I talked to a woman today who had a premature baby 21 days ago, in jail. I talked to another who told me the officers and staff are sneaking into her cell to put snakes and worms in her bed and they are meddling with her food and that’s why she has an infection, but because the dentist is in on it she didn’t want to go to the clinic when they called her. I talked to a third who had an episode because she’s bipolar and has now been fine but stuck in the mental observation unit for months and a fourth who told me the nurses are really nice and she’s somehow grateful to be inside. I did breath work and meditation and even some movement with each of them and some more. This work can take a lot out of me. But I get to leave. Go home. See my loved ones. Play. Rest. Make choices that support the way I want to be in the world, even when they are not the most skillful. Sure, I didn’t kill anyone, not even in self defense. I don’t sell drugs, not even the legal ones. I don’t steal, because I don’t need to. I go to therapy and have resources and if sometimes I make you uncomfortable because I tell you weird stories just know that I appreciate your ability to hold some of the weight for me. Because that’s what we do: we share the load because it makes it easier to carry. We share because “that” is “this”. The multiplicity of oneness.