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One year, 1 month & 11 days in -- a quick solstice greeting

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Two quick announcements:

a) Jonell Mosser and her amazing band, Enough Rope, are doing an early evening show on Saturday night (December 23) at Third and Lindsley. The show starts at 7:30 pm and should be excellent. Rumor has it that at least one gray-haired gentleman (no, not Santa, but maybe (just maybe) your favorite felon) may make a brief appearance. Hope any of you in middle Tennessee can make it to hear my muse and dance to her music.

b) I am allowed out for another 12 hours on Christmas day and will once again fire up the sauna on my farm for an all-day sweat. If any of you are at a loss for something to do on 12/25, email me for directions to my farm and join me there. The sauna will be hot by 9:00 am and I'll be able to be there until around 4:30 pm (though you folks are welcome to stay later.) We will also hike up in the berries, past the pond, and through the woods. Build a bonfire, listen to the creek, share poetry and laughter. Come if you can. If not, make plans to join me there on May 11, when I am free (sorta) again.
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This will be a short note (my Christmas gift to you) to give thanks for all the gifts I have received over the past one year, one month and eleven days (but who's really counting.) I never would have imagined how much could be learned -- both heart magic and life tools -- by this cheap spa experience. But we have
all witnessed the lessons together, and that makes it all even more worthwhile.

I have learned new social skills: never ask anyone what their crime was, just how much time they have left to do; never pass your arm over someone else's food; always call out you're flushing the toilet to avoid scalding anyone in the showers.

I now know that I can sleep in noisy places, if only for a little while. And that after three days of little sleep, nothing will wake me up on the fourth night.

I know how to rotate back-stock on a grocery store shelf (though I still don't know how to give a refund.)

I've learned just how engrossing a small, raised bed garden can be to four year olds, and newly-wed young urbanites, and smiling oldsters who remember their own, or their parents' and grandparents', gardens. And that robin's eggs hold their own soft blue magic, and life lessons, for earnest young men like Raleigh. And that "scare flamingos" and "guardian fish", donated by my favorite four year old munchkin Piper, really do keep small gardens safe from city rabbits and east Nashville crack-heads. ("37206 -- we'll steal your heart and your lawnmower.")

I've learned that, when it comes to saving our democracy and restoring free, fair and verifiable elections in this country, if we never stop fighting, we cannot lose. We have gone from a few insistent voices in the electoral wilderness to a cast of millions who now know our elections are unsafe and who made them that way. We haven't won this battle yet (the orcs still control the process in the Orange State and too many other places), but we are getting there. Maybe, just maybe, if we keep on keeping on, I will be able to vote on a paper ballot when next I get the chance (and the right) to vote.

I have learned that I am surrounded by friends, who surprise me with kind emails, who hold my hands in prayer in the sanctioned (and unsanctioned) 12-STEP meetings I attend, who lick my face on Thanksgiving day (or in my salty-sweet dreams), whose thoughts and prayers are the best medicine and the warmest
quilt. Who send scents of sage and pinon floating to me on the western wind.

This past Wednesday night, I was unable to attend a Christmas party of my Gathering To Save Our Democracy friends and fellow freedom-fighters. So, at the party, they drew straws and four of them paid a surprise visit to me at the "house". The visit by Dick, Holly, Thelma and Phil was a real, unexpected
treat. Thanks to all for the snacks (which I ate) and the peanut butter pie, which I shared with the other residents of the "grown men's dorm" and a few others who caught a glimpse of the gooey richness on my dormies' plates. But the best thing was seeing four smiling votesters in the "house" at visitation time. I introduced the four to the two CMOs at the desk as a few of the people responsible for the election reform work that those two guards had learned about when I lent them my copy of David Earnhardt's "Eternal Vigilance" (which both guards believe should be shown on HBO, if not CBS, as soon as possible.) Maybe that's why they let my guests stay fifteen minutes longer than everyone else. The two guards strongly applaud our work and since they are both from third world countries, they know the stakes better than most.

But the biggest surprise came when I opened the Christmas card left behind and found a check big enough to replace my stolen laptop computer. Guys, I just sat there in happy disbelief. Lord knows, you folks know just how dangerous I can be with a computer in my hands. Thanks (from the bottom of my heart) for re-
arming me!! And for returning to me my Sunday afternoons of writing and reflection by myself, locked in the conference room on the quiet end of the "house". The time will pass much faster as a result.

By the way, I have said before that I have tried to maintain my sanity by not keeping count of how much time I have left here. Last Friday, I discovered that I have been mis-estimating my leave date. Instead of April 11, I cannot leave before May 11. And since my attorney has decided not to apply for an early release (saving our energies to ask the judge to allow me to travel for work purposes after I am released), I will do all my time. But if the gifts of the past year are any indication, it will be more good time.

Here's hoping for a peaceful solstice to all of you. If you're not doing anything on December 23, go hear Jonell -- no one sings the blues (nor drives the blues away from me) better than she. And if, on Christmas day, you find yourself in need of sweaty adventure, join me for an all-day sweat on my farm. (Email me for directions.)

My respect, affection and love to all of you; from your favorite felon.

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