sweet

I've been hoping to get up to Carmel, New York this Sunday to finally, finally attend a Reiki workshop led by my friend Kristen, whose skills I've experienced and trust. She's been offering free Reiki treatments at various places for victims of trauma including those grappling with the aftermath of 9-11. She hooked me up with a ride for Sunday, but the man, kind as I'm sure he is, hasn't gotten back to me. For all I know he was on flight 1549. So I'm getting worried. To get up there by train I need to be at Grand Central at 7:40 am.

This morning I told my husband about it and instead of ridiculing my new age predelection he considered driving me up and said, "Well, is there anything up there we could all do?" Wow. I wonder if there is. They can see the statue of 16-year old Sybil Lundington, the "female Paul Revere," who rode her horse through the hills and valleys upstate in 1777 warning of the British invasion. She's posed freakishly, neck strained, mouth wrenched open, the stick in her right arm raised high over her head. The name Sybil means prophetess, and here's one who I'm sure did not get the Cassandra treatment, which I think we've all experienced at one point in our lives, or we wouldn't have the phrase "I told you so."