4212 Olive

A lot of people out there have a lot of time on their hands. If you halfway pay attention I think we can all agree on that for lots of reasons. Your reasons, my reasons, religious reasons, political reasons, Q-reasons, influencer reasons, movies, TV, books, financial … what did I miss?

How much time does it take to write a book, a movie, a television series? How many words and pages? i don’t know. 

I write pretty much every day. And have for 30-40 years. I have 4,701 notes in Notes. I have 72 documents save in a folder. One is 129 pages with 45k words. And I have this site and one other. That’s not counting the hand written journals I have in storage. There is probably a lot of cross over, but still.

The Epstein files contain approximately 3 million pages of documents, along with 2,000 videos and 180,000 images. While the Department of Justice acknowledged a total of 6 million pages might technically qualify, they deemed the January 2026 release to be the final one.

Some say this is a hoax. Six million pages. A hoax. 

So tell me, who and what army had the time, resources, imagination, creativity, whatever you want to call it to write these emails, letters, FBI reports, gather receipts, evidence in criminal cases, flight logs, contact lists, take photos, videos and amass 6 million pages of content. 

Who?

What is this grief? A grief I’m not sure it’s origin because it happens when I see things that while happening, aren’t happening directly to me. 

I haven’t been pulled out of my car, zip tied, thrown into a van and driven to a center filled with others who were also pulled out of, going about normal every day tasks. My sister or friend were not shot and killed. Then with no investigation,   

“…without engaging with all of the stories of that place, and that person the consequence of the single story is this it robs people of dignity it makes our recognition of humanity difficult.”  (~Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie)

I hear songs or watch someone sing a song I’ve heard a hundred times, and this time I see them sing the words and see them in a place maybe they had hoped to hide.

I read the words written by one I don’t know and maybe for a second time, an emotion comes from familiar and unfamiliar places. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with either. Or the second time the words settle in a different place entirely.

I listen to the words of another talk about grief. “Why did no one tell us that to die is to be reincarnated in those we love while they are still alive.” (~Andrea Gibson) Not being able to imagine any other way through it, put to open it up. Again and again. To not shut off the channel to joy. Yet both are needed, you can’t have one without the other.

What is it that I am mourning this far past actual loss? 

The page to the left on the screen distracts me. I click and see a friend post, “My mama passed 23 yrs ago today. Miss her daily.”

Below that the string of response and reaction to a missing Mom, 84 year old Nancy Guthrie. So strange, heartbreaking and sad. The latest words from a broken insecure man who is lost, weak, in the only way he knows to prop himself up takes everyone down. Down with disparaging words that cut deep. Words that echo in his head from childhood. Knowing no other way to make himself known, he is literally the classroom bully and the bull in our china closet. So sad.

When differences become personal, rather than a curiosity or exploration of imagination for the greater good, they become small weapons that do the most harm.

Then, probably the only Olympic coverage I’ll watch or see. A short clip from the opening ceremony and the words of Nelson Mandela read by Charlize Theron;

“Peace is not just the absence of conflict; peace is the creation of an environment where all can flourish regardless of race, color, creed, religion, gender, class, caste or any other social markers of difference.”

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to your neighbor. Peace

Grief is not a problem it’s something you live with. E. A. Hanks