In the context of my anti-oppression work—or more positively, my work toward liberation and human rights—I've been thinking about what I do. Although I don't tend to walk in the door announcing that I'm an educator and a writer, that's actually how I think of myself and what I do. What's interesting is how long it took for either of these deeply held impulses—intertwined loves, I would even say—to come to mind as something I could offer in my commitment to everyone mattering.

My one night in a hospital, appendectomy included, came to $35,000. My share came to $6000. I felt really pouty about this; outraged, actually, and definitely deserving of financial assistance. As I filled out the hospital's aid application though, a few minutes of vulnerability math tempered my sense of entitlement. Over 60 + Jewish + a cancer survivor + female = a really low vulnerability to oppression score.

The term 'social justice steward' is new to me, and I'm intrigued. It sounds more appealing than 'social justice warrior', a term that to me evokes a picture of someone so dedicated to a movement that their commitment becomes a detriment to their well-being (physically, emotionally) and relationships (family, others in their movement). While warrior evokes a combative posture, steward makes me think of the tenderness I felt when raising my kids, or about the three very small trees I recently planted.

Many years ago I met a mindfulness teacher/nutritionist/improv artist who shared my love of games. Parlor games, board games, crafty games, running around games, word games. I mentioned that for me, there's nothing like the feeling of joy, exhilaration, and embodiment I experience when I play. She explained, "Games hold our attention. When we play them, we give them our singular focus, like in meditation. The benefits are the same."