Drowned in moonlight, strangled by her bra

Drowned in moonlight, strangled by her brafeatured

There are few people on Earth who are *enough* to carry the tagline actor, author, mental health advocate in addition to being a mother but, then again, Carrie Fisher was never just the princess she portrayed.

Remembering a woman of sardonic, self-deprecating humor, one who grew up a Hollywood girl, it’s easy to reflect back on her iconic iron bikini, or even the personal troubles that she wore so publicly for all the world to see.

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But Carrie was encouraging: “So as difficult as it seems like it can be, you’re ahead of the game. You’re doing more than I did at your age, and that’s courageous.” – from here

She was funny: “I’ve got to stop getting obsessed with human beings and fall in love with a chair. Chairs have everything human beings have to offer, and less, which is obviously what I need. Less emotional and intellectual feedback, less warmth, less approval, less patience and less response. The less the merrier. Chairs it is. I must furnish my heart with feelings for furniture.” – from here

She cared about people, even those she had never met: “Post me your address and see what you get. A stone, a leaf, an unfound door, some cliché flowers or perfume and a dress. Keep in touch. Good luck, and keep up with the gusto. I’m cheering.” – from here

She believed in keeping it weird: “There are three degrees of being weird. They are: (1) Salvageably weird. (2) Weird. (3) Irrevocably weird” – from here

And at the bottom of it all, she was human: “No motive is pure. No one is good or bad-but a hearty mix of both. And sometimes life actually gives to you by taking away.” – from here

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I woke up this morning, feeling so very strongly that I needed to wear my Star Wars shirt. Strange inkling and not my usual cup of tea, but just a few hours later, I felt that great disturbance when I, too, heard of the passing of the woman who portrayed the Princess and General Organa, and in her portrayal, gave us all one thing we needed: hope.

Carrie wrote once in one of her many books: “… I tell my younger friends that no matter how I go, I want it reported that I drowned in moonlight, strangled by my own bra.” And so it shall rest. And as you so elegantly wrote, Carrie, and thank you for this: “I had the time of my life–and the time of yours.”

About the author

Cassiopeia

Cassiopeia is a storyteller, working mama, and babywearing educator. Beginning her career as a K-12 teacher, she found her life hitting an utter standstill when her oldest son was born and, as a result of her motherhood experiences, became deeply involved in the babywearing community shortly thereafter. She now works and volunteers within the babywearing industry, and fills her teacher's bucket by offering workshops and classes on educational topics throughout Southern California.

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