Mommy, Who's Terry?
"Mommy, who's this person Terry?" asked snicholson of snichols on a hike in the Nisene Forest near Santa Cruz today.

"Terry? Terry?" said snichols.

"Terry! The person Congress kept talking about on the Daily Show--'Terry. Terry. Terry.'"

"Hmmm, was it that guy that used to play Produce Pete that left and now is back and has some big show?" snichols wondered.

"No! Terry! that Congress was talking about!" screamed snicholson, totally frustrated with his clueless mother.

Suddenly it hit her.

"Oh! Terry! Terry is the person who Congress won't let die."

And then snichols had to explain the whole thing. The feeding tube and all the people who care about Terry, the husband, the mother...Congress.

He thought it was so dumb.

"That's ridiculous. They should just do what her husband thinks. Doesn't he know best?" he added.

"Congress," said snichols,

"has no respect for the sanctity of marriage."

The Minnesota Tragedy
It has reached snichols attention that another terrible shooting in a school has transpired. In interviews today with NPR, the principal of the school described in detail the precautions the school had taken to prevent just such a tragedy from occurring: security guards, weapons detectors, security cameras.

Other people better qualified than snichols will comment on the horror of the shootings themselves. But it occurs to snichols that there is another tragedy that this shooting uncovers, the tragedy that society would turn to security guards with guns, weapons detectors and security cameras as a way to protect our children.

Surely the Minnesota event shows us how illusory this "protection" really is--the rampage happened in spite of these measures.

Indeed, it would seem quite the contrary: having these "systems' in place sends a potent message to our children: you live in a world of violence; there is nothing you can do about it but station men with guns around your perimeter and scrutinize everyone's every move. This invites violent and desperate thoughts in everyone; it fosters hopelessness and fear.

How would it be if school leadership instead fostered a community spirit, where every person in the school was responsible for the success of everyone else? Where everyone cared about everyone else and each child's life was important. Wouldn't that be something? Wouldn't that be more likely to lead to real security?

What Change Means for Snichols
A number of readers had strong reactions to snichols' posting about change sneaking up on her. Some were enlightened. Many were frightened. A few wondered whether snichols was stating that change was good or bad, in short, what did it all mean?

At the risk of belaboring a topic that may bore her less metaphysically-minded readers, snichols will attempt to answer these questions. Although she thought it was implicit, snichols can assure you if you like that the change is good. But then people today are fond of saying, "it's all good" (a phrase which, at first few hearings, snichols hated, until she thought it was merely someone paging her to tell her that yet again, it was David Allgood on the phone).

The good truth is that it is all good. It's really not a matter of changing one's habits. One needn't meditate daily (although it helps) or slow down (although that helps too). You can truly sit at your busy desk in the middle of your busy day, with Allgood holding on line two, and all good on line one--take both calls, and breath.

Change snuck up on snichols
Lately snichols has realized that she's genuinely changed since she quit her more gainful employment some two and half years ago. She moves slower; she's less excitable; she likes to be alone more.

Prior to "retirement," snichols was in almost constant motion. She got her first job at 15. After that she worked evenings, weekends, any time she wasn't working she was rehearsing for a play or studying. The same in college, pretty much. And after college, work, law school, more work. It really never occurred to her to do otherwise.

Throughout it all, when she played, she played hard: drinking and dancing when she wasn't powering through novels or watching soaps (her not-so-dirty little secret).

With it came a high gear personality suited to the work: snap decisions, snappy answers, quick to anger, quick to forgive. snichols was moveon.org before there were dots and orgs.

Now she meditates every day. She is thankful for such things as children's handprints on glass doors. She spends large portions of her day talking to no one. She watches very little broadcast television; listens to almost no music. She reads almost exclusively non-fiction, mostly philosophy or spiritual in nature, but still follows politics.

snichols no longer constantly craves wild social abandon. snichols no longer panics at stretches of time by herself, indeed, she welcomes them. snichols is slow to anger, and oddly slower to forgive. When she forgives, she does it better, more meaningfully.


In short, snichols has completely changed her life.