When we get a part along the way, feeling thankful is appropriate and then taking center stage is dignified. Push aside the dialogue, the cluttered rhetoric and own your role. In 2007 we saw a movie directed by the artist Julian Schnabel – The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. The movie tracked the story of Jean-Dominique Bauby, editor in chief of the French fashion bible Elle Magazine. At the age of 43 he had a devastating stroke which damaged his brain stem. He was left bearing the sentence of a condition called locked in syndrome. He was almost completely paralyzed except for the singular ability to blink one eye. His mind was in tact and thinking and feeling his blessing and curse. We watched him suffer thru a living under water like state. He suffocated in body and mind. At the time we saw the movie my mother was dying. I sat there with one eye closed, writhing in emotional distress. My artistic license saw this through my mother’s eyes. I too closely related to this stagnation through strangulation. We left and I was drenched in mind and body. The idea of never being able to act on impulse , click our heals together and leap to our next activity –a form of death beyond imagination. When our spirit is stifled and our ability to grow exists only in concept we are anesthetized and left numb. With no hope in sight and the view of our plot terminal, it is then that we redo the metrics and doggy paddle our way out from under. Ah, freedom! In thru your nose, out thru your mouth.Fast forward to last nights victory speech. Distinguished with the countenance and bearing smacking of Madame President, Hillary took over center stage. With a fervent stance she portended the prototype of “temperamentally fit.”

Fair and square, no air brushing, no fixed numbers at the polls and no competition Hillary dazzled us with no bull–. Sighing relief, we marveled in the sincerity, fluidity and kindness of her words. We blinked both eyes and started gaining our visions back. Looking ahead with foresight, we could see the final act of debate ending. The curtain closed on this Wagner opera. The Macbeth of politics was circling the drain. She hugged her daughter and “presumptive”grandchild. Bill mouthed of his pride for her. “Forgive us Our Trespasses.” Religion and Politics and there we are.