Sunday, July 28, 2013

Justice

noun
  • just behavior or treatment
  • the quality of being fair and reasonable
  • the administration of the law or authority in maintaining this
  • (Justice) the personification of justice, usually a blindfolded woman holding scales and a sword.
  • a judge or magistrate, in particular a judge of the supreme court of a country or state.
Origin:
late Old English iustise 'administration of the law', via Old French from Latin justitia, from justus

http://oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/justice
___________________________________________________________
Devin Therese Trego
 

“Justice? – you get justice in the next world, in this world, you have the law.”
William Gaddis, A Frolic of His Own

“I do not pretend to understand the moral universe. The arc is a long one. My eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by experience of sight. I can divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends toward justice.”
Theodore Parker, a sermon, 1853



 
I sometimes suggest to my clients that, for the sake of their own sanity, they stop using the phrase “the justice system,” and begin to use “the court system.” To do otherwise is to open themselves up to unhealthy levels of cognitive dissonance. The fact is, the court system as it is accessed by the vast majority of litigants has precious little to do with justice. Instead, trial courts apply admissible evidence to relevant law, hoping that the myriad rules and laws that they are bound by will in the end land them somewhere tolerably near a just result. Technical arguments about rules of procedure and evidence are the trees for which the forest, justice, is unseen.

Only a tiny fraction of cases ever go beyond the trial court, meaning that almost every participant in the court system never gets the opportunity to truly address the larger issue of justice as it applies to their case. Even at the highest level of appeal, the law is not judged primarily on how just it is, but on its adherence to other laws and the Constitution, a document that is undoubtedly great, but also flawed. A verdict or opinion that is ostensibly within the bounds of the law is not in and of itself just. The law is merely a tool – an often imprecise and consistently manipulated tool – that at its best points us toward the most just result.

On the day before the Supreme Court struck down the so-called Defense of Marriage Act, a law which directly perpetrated injustice, that same Court invalidated key sections of the Voting Rights Act, a law which directly addressed injustice. Moments after the VRA ruling came down, states that previously had to seek review before making changes to laws that would affect voting rights began the process to pass the very same laws that were previously denied under that review. Moments after the DOMA ruling, a judge in New York halted the deportation hearing of Steven Infante, based on the fact that his New York marriage to his partner of nearly ten years, Sean Brooks, once recognized by the federal government, could qualify him for a green card as the spouse of a U.S. citizen. The moment these decisions leave the legal world of argument and procedure, they have immediate and profound real world effects. The law, imperfect and insufficient tool that it is, is also one of the most powerful. Taking every joy and every pain in stride, we must use it to pound away at that long arc of the moral universe to keep it bending, even if only slightly, toward justice.


 

Devin is an attorney for a domestic violence and sexual assault program. She represents survivors of domestic and sexual violence in protection from abuse and family law matters. She roots for the underdog in everything except baseball, where she roots for the New York Yankees. She lives in Northeastern PA with her cat and two dogs.



_________________________________________________________________________
 
Grace Clancy Riker
 

Just us.
No we can't do it alone Though sometimes it feels like it's Just us.
Just us against the world- a wall of gospels and what is "right" When were just fighting for what we believe in and what is truly right of heart.
Just us fighting for future ones so that their determination of love may not be condemned As ours once was.
Just us - the lovers, the fighters, the 'sinners' loving with open arms and hearts - desiring to be heard and understood.
Just us - our tears and our many messages ignored.
Just us - for Justice.
 Grace just graduated with her Bachelors in English from Misericordia and is continuing Graduate School at The Queens University Belfast in Ireland for Drama and Performance in September.  She is an avid Gay Rights Activist and Brain Aneurysm Awareness supporter.  For Grace, Love is Love and life is too short to worry about anything else in the world.  She is a friend to all. Writing is her outlet and the place for her brain to explode all of the little bursts of thoughts that she thinks throughout her day.

____________________________________________________________________________

David Doty

“Justice:  In Search of Meaning”
With Apologies to
Viktor Frankl, Bruce Geller, John Godfrey Saxe, and Lewis Carroll  
Once upon a time last week in the “The Land of Presumed Righteousness and Supremacy” five students from the Hallowed Halls were dispatched to complete the task of filling their cups with knowledge, marketable skills, and, if possible, a small measure of wisdom.  “Your final assignment” challenged their esteemed Mentor “if you accept it, is to learn the true meaning of the most commonly used and abused word in our language” 
 
“Surely such a word must be silly and irrelevant.” the students protested.  “All the important words and concepts have been thoroughly studied and analyzed over the centuries by brilliant scholars such as you.   Any word so overused and misunderstood would certainly not be a worthy focus for our final Rite of Passage.  What trivial word would you have us analyze?”
 
One by one their Mentor locked her challenging glare like a laser on each of them.  She methodically closed and picked up her folder.  As she turned and deliberately walked to the door, one word echoed throughout the lecture hall.
“JUSTICE”
Thus went the five with determination etched on their faces and confidence worn on their sleeves.  They would search the corners of the world for the true meaning of this simple, oft-used word.  Each returned on the appointed day and hour to share their new-found wisdom with their Mentor and their fellow soon to be graduates.
 
The First smugly boasted that he had secured audience with the world’s most esteemed philosophers, both past and present.  “I learned that Justice is an authoritative commandment of God.  As such it is a pillar of divine or natural law.  The principals of Justice are objective and self-evident, but only to those expert in the world of philosophy.  Common folk must trust these philosophers to navigate the Ship of State for them.   The Mentor scoffed “It would seem that you have simply concluded that Justice is like a fine wine.  Your philosophers cannot define it, but they know it if and when they see it. I’ll not have you guide my ship.  But I would gladly share your selection of a dry Merlot.” 
 
The Second proudly declared that she had taken a more pragmatic strategy choosing to dwell in the midst of those who administer justice for society.  “Those that truly understand justice, practice it.  Those that don’t, simply talk obscurely about it.  I observed and took part in the rituals of those chosen to judge the innocence or guilt of the accused, as well as to determine the most  just punishment for the guilty.   Their creed is “The Punishment Shall Fit the Crime;   Indeed, when a murderer has been executed, these Administrators of Justice reassure themselves by declaring that ”Justice has been Served.”  The principal of “An Eye for an Eye” has been promoted for thousands of years, and has stood the test of time.  I submit, therefore, that retribution and retaliation are central to the meaning of justice.  The Mentor smirked.  “Do you not find it a moral contradiction to punish a murderer with murder?  Does the commandment say, ‘Thou shalt not kill, but we may kill you’?  The student opened her mouth to speak, but could find no fitting words.   
 
The Third, having observed the embarrassment suffered by his colleagues, made a more cautious presentation.  “I sought the meaning of justice, Madame Mentor, by interviewing hundreds of victims of crime and their loved ones.  It soon became apparent that, when they spoke of seeking justice, their true intent was revenge.   Yet, when the verdicts and the offenders had been executed, they had seldom gained satisfaction.  Revenge is but an empty promise.  After a murderer has been put to death, the victim remains dead.  It would seem I learned more about what justice is not, than what it is.  “Wisdom gained nonetheless” the Mentor reassured him.
 
The Fourth, pumped up with renewed confidence, spoke of seeking wisdom in the bowels of the world’s most renowned libraries. She boasted of spending long dreary hours digesting treatises on “Justice” both ancient and modern.    “My critical analysis has convinced me that Justice is but a synonym of ‘Fairness’.  In matters of civil and criminal dispute alike, the crux of the matter is not the outcome but the process.   The “veil of ignorance” encourages us to ask if the dispute resolution process was truly ignorant of and blind to the social status, ethnicity, gender, age, and other characteristics of the disputants.   “An admirable goal indeed.” conceded the Mentor.  “But how often is it attained?  Is it a reality or an illusion?” Looking defeated the student conceded “Seldom at best.  Justice and Fairness are illusory dreams to be sure.” She sank back into her chair deflated of her earlier confidence.
 
The Fifth and final student  blustered  that he had pursued his search in a much larger and more meaningful arena than those chosen by his misguided fellows.  “I broadened my scope to analyze the justice evidenced by society as it distributes among its members its crucial resources, such as wealth, power, respect, etc.  I discovered many theories of  distributive justice.  The most noble by far simply asserts:  ‘From each according to their abilities;  To each according to their needs’.   Once again the Mentor brought her student back to earth asking “Reality or illusion?  Have those hallowed principles ever been successfully implemented?”  The student’s shoulders slumped and he silently averted his gaze to his shuffling feet.
The Mentor then challenged her students to defend their positions in debate.
And so these budding academes
Disputed pompous and long,
Each advanced  his or her own view
With words both bold and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!
“Take heart!” the Mentor consoled them.  “Your assignment was much more challenging than you knew.  A famous cat once wisely said ‘If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.  And if our goal is simply to get to ‘any somewhere’, we are sure to do that if we only walk long enough.  But how will we know when we arrive?’
 
Please, dear students, give careful consideration to the perspective that justice is in such short supply simply because we cannot agree what it is.”
 David is semi-retired which translates to mean he is busier than ever. He serves as Coordinator of the Interfaith Center for Peace and Justice in Wilkes-Barre and as a member of the Founding Board of Café Grace, which will be a “pay what you can afford” café. He is nearing completion of his first novel, “Promises to Keep”, which has a central theme of social justice. Stay tuned.
__________________________________________________________________

Virginia Grove

...for all...

Through fifty-two
letters or primary
colors their tertiary
hues or major
notes and minors
the bars and lines
written or spoken
drawn or painted
sung or played
curled or pounded
this language
this expression housed
in story born of story
or experience
born of life
stretches forward
momentous momentum
moving those
who dare to be moved
into links,
holding where
each touches each,
where connection
roots us in a field
we've always shared
though we are
frequently focused
fully above
ground, lacking full
understanding
of this structure
holding us up
these fields where we,
crops to fulfill
more crops, cut
other crops down,
pull out roots
biology,
history,
and toss ones
deemed less

 
But for all,
we hear, for all,
is liberty
and justice
for all
we know
forward exists through
us, recognition of
commonality, wonder
with difference,
each responsible in the field,
or bar,
on the line,
in speaking
or writing
or drawing
or painting
or playing
or singing
songs sutchering
wounds
in various stages
of healing,
each responsible
for all




Sunday, July 21, 2013

Point

noun

  • the tapered, sharp end of a tool, weapon, or other object
  • Archaeology a pointed flake or blade, especially one that has been worked
  • Ballet another term for pointe.
  • Boxing the tip of a person’s chin as a spot for a blow.
  • the prong of a deer’s antler.
  • a dot or other punctuation mark, in particular a period.
  • a decimal point
  • a dot or small stroke used in the alphabets of Semitic languages to indicate vowels or distinguish particular consonants.
  • a very small dot or mark on a surface
  • a particular spot, place, or position in an area or on a map, object, or surface
  • a particular moment in time or stage in a process
  • (usually the point) the critical or decisive moment
  • (the point of) the verge or brink of (doing or being something)
  • [usually with modifier] a stage or level at which a change of state occurs
  • (in geometry) something having position but not spatial extent, magnitude, dimension, or direction, for example the intersection of two lines.
  • [with modifier] British a wall outlet or jack
  • a single item or detail in an extended discussion, list, or text
  • an argument or idea put forward by a person in discussion
  • (usually the point) the significant or essential element of what is intended or being discussed
  • [in singular, usually with negative or in questions] advantage or purpose that can be gained from doing something
  • relevance or effectiveness.
  • a distinctive feature or characteristic, typically a good one, of a person or thing
  • (in sports and games) a mark or unit of scoring:he scored 13 of his team’s final 19 points against Houston
  • a unit used in measuring value, achievement, or extent
  • an advantage or success in an argument or discussion
  • a unit of credit toward an award or benefit.
  • a percentage of the profits from a movie or recording offered to certain people involved in its production.
  • a punishment imposed by the courts for a driving offense and recorded cumulatively on a person’s driver’s license
  • a unit of weight (one hundredth of a carat, or 2 mg) for diamonds.
  • a unit of varying value, used in quoting the price of stocks, bonds, or futures.
  • each of thirty-two directions marked at equal distances around a compass.
  • the corresponding direction toward the horizon.
  • the angular interval between two successive points of a compass, i.e., one eighth of a right angle (11° 15ʹ).
  • (points ——) unspecified places considered in terms of their direction from a specified place
  • a narrow piece of land jutting out into a lake or ocean:the boat came around the point [in names]
  • Printing a unit of measurement for type sizes and spacing, which in the US and UK is one twelfth of a pica, or 0.013835 inch (0.351 mm), and in Europe is 0.015 inch (0.376 mm).
  • Basketball a frontcourt position, usually manned by the guard who sets up the team’s defense.
  • Ice Hockey either of two areas in each attacking zone, just inside the blue line where it meets the boards.
  • (usually points) each of a set of electrical contacts in the distributor of a motor vehicle.
  • a small leading party of an advanced guard of troops.
  • chiefly North American the position at the head of a column or wedge of troops
  • chiefly North American short for point man.
  • (usually points) the extremities of an animal, typically a horse or cat, such as the face, paws, and tail of a Siamese cat.
  • Hunting a spot to which a straight run is made.
  • a straight run
  • (usually points) historical a tagged piece of ribbon or cord used for lacing a garment or attaching breeches to a doublet.
  • a short piece of cord for tying up a reef in a sail.
  • the action or position of a dog in pointing:a bird dog on point
  • Music an important phrase or subject, especially in a contrapuntal composition.

verb

  • [no object] direct someone’s attention to the position or direction of something, typically by extending one’s finger
  • [with adverbial of direction] indicate a particular time, direction, or reading
  • [with object] direct or aim (something) at someone or something
  • [with adverbial of direction] face or be turned in a particular direction
  • [with adverbial] cite or put forward a fact or situation as evidence of something
  • (point to) (of a situation) be evidence or an indication that (something) is likely to happen or be the case
  • [with object] (of a dog) indicate the presence of (game) by acting as pointer.
  • [with object] chiefly Ballet extend (the toes or feet) by tensing the foot and ankle so as to form a point.
  • [with object] give force or emphasis to (words or actions)
  • [with object] fill in or repair the joints of (brickwork, a brick structure, or tiling) with smoothly finished mortar or cement.
  • [with object] give a sharp, tapered point to
  • [with object] insert points in (written Hebrew).
  • mark (Psalms) with signs for chanting.
 
___________________________________________________________________
 
Over the past three or so days, I've spent time contemplating how one lives in the present moment at an event held on a local college campus.  The Gathering, as it is known, is held every year and the topics have varied widely.  You can read more about the event here: www.thegatheringatkeystone.org.  This year's theme was The Art of the Living Moment. 
 
Thursday evening, the event opened with a ceremony conducted by the lamas of the Drepung Loseling Tibetan Monastery, in which they consecrated the space where they'd create a sacred sand mandala. For those of you unfamiliar with mandala, it is a Sanskrit word which means "circle" and they have been used in a number of different traditions throughout time.

Friday and Saturday I attended lectures and workshops, four hours yesterday of which involved creating a personal mandala.  After an opening meditation in a hot, incense-filled room, we learned more about mandalas, discussed the materials we'd be using, and began to answer a series of questions in which we'd identify those things most important and most uniquely our own.  The process then began to translate these words and concepts into a representative symbol, after which we began to plan and then paint our mandala utilizing the symbols identified.
 
As I answered questions--little, pointed questions--I watched the stars they tossed one by one into the air above me.  Several of these points of light caused my eyes to tear.  And as the words, as the points, as the stars connected, threading together an understanding of myself I'd never quite had before, the images came as though they were constellations.  Points connected.
 
Yesterday ended with a talk given by one of my favorite writers, Diane Ackerman, author of numerous books of poetry and prose.  This morning, Diane and author Whitney Stewart held a conversation for about an hour and while I wrote down numerous points I will return to when the time is what the time need be, it was the discussion Diane offered in one short phrase which turned the experience of the conference into something extraordinary.  It shifted perspective.  It was the point.  She said, in talking to Whitney regarding a challenge in writing, that you must look for the access point into the story. 
 
The access point.
 
Into the story.
 
What is your point?  What is my point?  How do we enter ourselves in a way that we can start to lay out the stars so that constellations will appear and turn bright enough that they might illuminate not only our own paths but the paths of others?
 
The final event of the day and of the conference was the completion, blessing, and subsequent dismantling of the sand mandala created by the lamas, symbolizing the transience of all things, even beauty.  I stood, listening to the sound of the instruments used to lay the intricate patterns and images of colored sand, and watched as the final line was laid. 
 
I sat in awe as the lamas blessed the completed mandala.



And as the closing ceremony moved forward, I began to cry as soon as the first swipe of a finger pushed away the sand, before a lama brushed the remainder into a pile in the center of the table.  I received a small bag of that sand, as did many others, before we processed behind the monks to the creek which runs through the campus to empty the remaining sand-- sand infused with the blessings for peace.

After I received my bag of sand, I walked to the bathroom.  In the bathroom, the art instructor from the previous day's mandala workshop dabbed her eyes dry.  I told her I was glad I wasn't the only one crying.  We both cried more deeply as we talked with one another.  It was in her workshop where the emotion that had been building slowly started to come out-- the questions-- the quick, honest, personal answers we have for ourselves when we need only answer them for ourselves.  Because in those moments, we aren't worrying about pleasing others.  Those moments are the point.

In a mandala, we learned, is a point called a bindu.  The bindu, Sanskrit for "drop", is the focal point of the mandala.  It is the center, the calm, the stillpoint. 

In the center of each of us, though sometimes it is difficult to remember, is this same stillpoint.  To get there, we need to create enough space in which we can see and hear and feel and taste and smell the reality of the world in which we move.  But we can be still.  And when we reach that point, we cry.  There aren't words.  There are tears.  And the tears are for all feelings--for joy and sadness and grief and happiness.  The tears are for all beings--for animals and humans like ourselves and unlike ourselves.  The tears are for all the ways we overlap-- in all the places where our own circles intertwine from that access point.

This week, ask yourself, what is the point of access for you into yourself, into your family, into your world, into your calling, into your emotions, into your work.  Ask yourself questions in the quiet space you deserve.  Feel the energy you distribute and ask more questions.  Answer in words and move words to images and then, when the images come, let the points of light create constellations in the darkness of the summer sky.




 


 
 
 
 

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Patient

adjective
  • able to accept or tolerate delays, problems, or suffering without becoming annoyed or anxious
noun
  • a person receiving or registered to receive medical treatment
  • Linguistics the semantic role of a noun phrase denoting something that is affected or acted upon by the action of a verb.

Origin:

Middle English: from Old French, from Latin patient- 'suffering', from the verb pati

http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/patient
________________________________________________________________________


Patient
patient waiting
Anesthetic fog
passing

"You
did great,
but no
sample."

Days
lift off
her calendar
fills

Another
surgery scheduled
Searching for
abnormal

"You
did great."
Patient patient
waits

"Did
he tell
you? It's
cancer."

This
fog takes
longer to
pass

Her
birthday lands
in the
middle
and
she curses
commercials playing
again--
the
'Official Sponsor
of Birthdays'
hurts

Celebrating
her birth
was hard
already
...always
had been...
her day
wasn't
worth
anything because
she wasn't
worthy

Patient
patient keeps
moving forward
through

Procedures
and appointments
dictate her
time

This
is when
she feels
OK

Scheduled
time is
a calming
norm

So
she rests
while drugs
flow

And
she writes
between her
naps

And
she trys
believing she's
worthy

 


Sunday, July 7, 2013

Wave


wave
Definition of wave
verb
  • move one’s hand to and fro in greeting or as a signal
  • move (one’s hand or arm, or something held in one’s hand) to and fro
  • [with object] convey (a greeting or other message) by waving one’s hand or something held in it
  • with object and adverbial of direction] instruct (someone) to move in a particular direction by moving one’s hand
  • [no object] move to and fro with a swaying motion while remaining fixed to one point
  • [with object] style (hair) so that it curls slightly
  • [no object] (of hair) grow with a slight curl
noun
  • a long body of water curling into an arched form and breaking on the shore
  • a ridge of water between two depressions in open water
  • a shape regarded as resembling a breaking wave
  • (the waves) literary the sea.
  • a sudden occurrence of or increase in a phenomenon, feeling, or emotion
  • a gesture or signal made by moving one’s hand to and fro
  • a slightly curling lock of hair
  • [in singular] a tendency to curl in a person’s hair
  • Physics a periodic disturbance of the particles of a substance which may be propagated without net movement of the particles, such as in the passage of undulating motion, heat, or sound.
  • a single curve in the course of a periodic disturbance of the particles of a substance
  • a periodic variation of an electromagnetic field in the propagation of light or other radiation through a medium or vacuum
http://oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/wave


______________________________________________________________________________
A reading of the following passage can be found here:



While she sleeps, she falls. Falling isn't tragic when the fall precedes standing up.

...she lays in the ocean, alone, her hazel eyes closed, her back supported by the waves. Not too close to shore, for sure she's never been, the waves rock her forward and back and forward and back and forward away from familiar.

This is how she moves.

This is how she's supported.

The tossing would be familiar, but this rocking is more gentle than familiar. The curling water licks behind her knees, cooling the surface of her skin and the veins and bones beneath. With her arms to the side, waving forward and back and forward and back she makes momentary angels whose wings imprint in water only for a second before being replaced by sea foam.

And then her salt meets salt water.

She's always been one to cry alone when crying was unavoidable. In the water-- whether it was a pool or a shower-- the tears weren't visible and even at 300 pounds she wanted to be, and in many ways was, invisible.

Crying in the ocean, though, Wildflower didn't feel the sting of the salt and she knew she wasn't alone. There were all the momentary angels she'd made as she bobbed forward and back and forward and back over the crests of curling water. There were are all the creatures swimming deeper than her. There was the sand that had once been stone and shells-- soft, giving beds of tan which, under microscope, contained far more colors than tan. The stone and the shells had protected before they crumbled-- before they cradled.

Cradling and rocking, forward and back and forward and back.

So she kept on crying and the ocean rose beneath her, tipping her up and nudging her toward the shoreline until, after months had passed, she arrived, and stood up. When she opened her hazel eyes, stars blinked back from the salt-purified sky. She saw no one there, heard no one there. And though her sea legs begged her to sit down, she remembered the list she'd kept of the impossible things she'd one day like to do before breakfast, because, like Alice, she knew there was a wonderland. With the Little Dipper big enough and close enough that at any moment she expected it to dig deep into the sand and toss the granules into the sky until they also became stars, she recited the list to the constellations...

Impossible things:
  • breathe without the weight of the past
  • fold the ocean inside
  • ask only questions which answer themselves or for which no answer can be found
  • turn the maddening sounds into music
  • color everything
  • remove me from me
And because she'd rocked back and forth, she thought she'd do the same with the list. So she started with the sixth thing, after which she'd rock back to the first.

It didn't matter that breakfast had long since passed, and with it the promise of morning. Nighttime was as good a time as any.
She looked around, still neither seeing nor hearing anyone, and walked wearily toward the lifeguard's stand-- a compact, tall, roofed, white structure in which, when more people were swimming, she knew the lifeguard sat, protectively watching the swimmers. And she wondered, for a moment, how that lifeguard had not seen her rocking forward and back and forward and back amongst the waves until she remembered, even at 300 pounds, she was invisible. Still, even though she knew she was invisible, she always checked for who was watching or who could possibly start to watch. Because everything good and everything bad always started from watching and if she could head off the on-lookers there, if she could truly be invisible, there wouldn't be any more bad. She knew that meant there'd also no longer be any good and that realization stood her tall, beside the lifeguard stand, taking off her layers.

The Little Dipper still watched, as did the sand that once had been stone or shells.  First she removed her salty clothing, before she removed her salty hair.  She thought of how as a newborn hair is sparse, and how, as people age, it also goes away.  She thought of losing her hair during chemo and wondered if the loss of hair was meant to remind her of how she'd grown up--how she'd aged--during the process.  So, one strand at a time, she removed her hair until there wasn't any to be found on her head or body.  Next, she began peeling off her skin, starting from the tips of her toes, up her legs and torso, over her head, and finally, as though removing a shirt, she pulled the remainder off her arms, and she stood holding the sheet of her skin in the muscles and tendons and bones of her hand. 

Wildflower laid the sheet of skin on the soft, giving bed of sand and she laid down on top, watching the moon move gradually.  She dug her feet into the sand, embedding granules into her muscles, and realizing now would be the time to fold the ocean in.

And so, though she'd decided a different item from the list would be next, she stood, leaving her skin sheet on the beach and she walked into the waves and swam, letting the waves rock her forward and back and forward and back and the burn was incredible as she let the ocean fold in and yet, she'd accomplished another impossible thing even though it was well after breakfast. 

But nighttime, she remembered, was as good a time as any.

And she rocked, forward and back and forward and back and forward...

...and when she woke, and sat up and touched her face and rubbed her eyes, salty sweat dampened the back of her hand and she knew her journey wasn't over.