Bernie Slutsky

  It is grey, damp, cold and I'm walking on a trail around Wirth Lake Princey, my adorable black, furry companion, is sniffing the terrain Enjoying the adventure  Having no worries Joyously trotting from one spot to another As I am gazing at the bare trees and grey sky I am struck by a jolt of anger They voted for him Not because they are working class people who feel screwed Plenty of working class people didn't vote for him They chose him because they bow down to White power They laugh, cheer for him, and they catcall anyone that challenges their bigoted and racist universe They feel strong and intoxicated  They feel they are finally somebody and belong to something They are loyal, and dedicated and will sacrifice their bodies and souls to be in this club Because they drank the potion of White power  And it tastes victorious They are on the precipice of the highest peak Everyone else is below them And their job is to keep outsiders down  By stepping on their necks Shooting th

  The email said she would like to schedule an appointment for counseling with me. She really loves my approach. She wants to work on relationship issues. I made the decision to stop seeing clients the end of April which is five months away. Why is it so hard for me to reply to this person? To tell her I can't see her. On one hand it feels like I'll be rejecting her.  On the other hand it feels like I'll be shutting myself down. And maybe that's what it is. For so long I've been answering emails and phone calls to schedule old and new clients. There were periods of time where a fair number of requests poured in. And there were times where it was pretty thin. Here it is again one more request.  But now it feels like I will be shutting the door and locking it if I tell her I can't see her. The image of turning the key, locking the door, closing shop lands in my gut. There is a sinking, finalized and empty sensation in the middle of my abdomen. It is a grief, a sad