Mermaids, Emily Bronte, Winter Solstice, and Cannabidiol

via Mermaid Musings

Yesterday, Sophie and I visited a new doctor who will be guiding us as we continue to give Sophie the CBD. I haven't mentioned it, but last Sunday at a Realm of Caring - California informational meeting, the powers-that-be announced that the first twenty people on the waiting list would finally get Charlotte's Web. Sophie was one of them. I should put an exclamation point on the end of that sentence. Sophie is one of them! Maybe two or three. Sophie is one of them!! Since I wasn't at the meeting, I don't yet have the product in hand, but we're ready to go for sure, now, and the doctor we visited was fantastic (no Charles Dickens character like the one described here). The Charlotte's Web from the recent California harvest is a 51:1 proportion of CBD/THC, and we will be getting it this weekend. The doctor patiently went through the science of cannabis and cannabidiols and cannabidiol receptors in the brain, and while flickers of anger flared up in my primitive brain (why the hell isn't this a treatment BEFORE anti-epileptic drugs), and flickers of despair in my evolved one (what would have been the outcome if Sophie were given this nineteen years ago?), I was grateful to be sitting in that seat in that office in that city at that specific time, Sophie next to me, humming and making good eye contact with the doctor, perhaps holding shells to her ear in her mind, the ocean's vast whoosh, her tail's swish.

We're nearing the winter solstice, and even Los Angeles' days are shorter and darker. My mood has been low of late, but I shake it off, whoosh, swish.  As the great Emily B. said,  I will not, cannot go.

The night is darkening round me

The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow;
The storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.

Emily Bronte