right now is – most definitely – the right time for prayer flags.
we had one set – brand new from the high mountains in colorado – and it was time to hang them.
and so, the day after the election, after adding blue lights to the tree branch on our deck, we hung the prayer flags.
it is not the first set of prayer flags we have hung. we had another set in the same place – flags that – after much wind and snow and ice and rain – disintegrated into the wind, spreading our prayers far and wide. we have another set that used to hang by our littlehouse on island – those are inside in our sunroom now. and then, this set.
this set was waiting, it seemed. waiting for a moment in time when it seemed an imperative to continually have prayer lifted up, sent into the universe with fervor.
and this is the right time.
so here they are – stretched between the back corner of our house to our garage. here they are – in bright sunlight under a big sky unblocked by the overhang of trees. here they are – in the space that receives the windiest west winds. here they are – over our pathway to our driveway and our cars, under which we walk every day. here they are – for all to see.
here they are – asking for peace, for unity, for freedom, for democracy, for accountability, for compassion, for goodness, for an end to the cruelty and evil destruction of our nation.
there are little green cherry tomatoes stilllll on the plant and i’ve been waiting to pick them until they are at their most ripe-green stage. after that, i’ll put them on the counter and let them ripen (or in a brown bag)…i guess i will look that up. anyway, there are probably about twenty of them or so and i want to make a pasta dish with the last of our sweet harvest.
and then there is this squirrel. i’ve been referring to it as “him”, though it could be a “her” and i suppose i could just say “they” because i have no problem using inclusive language. but that is off-topic.
this squirrel – let’s assume her for now – i read maybe it is a lactating female who is trying to stay hydrated and will eat the less-than-ripe cherry tomato as a source of hydration (though i would also point to our oft-visited birdbath or the pond in our backyard as other options…)
this squirrel jaunts down from the trees onto the wires and into the garden next to barney. it climbs up barney and then scoots along the top of the fence, stopping to [what looks like] stare in the window at me, grinning. then it promptly hops down off the fence onto the empty potting stand and saunters over to the tomato plant to triumphantly choose which little tomato it wants.
the other morning i walked outside to see this cherry tomato picked, its top plucked off, a wee-little-bit of the inside eaten and then left in a really obvious place on the deck railing for me to find. “i was here,” the cherry tomato announced for the squirrel. i laughed and took a picture, leaving the tomato for whenever the squirrel wanted to finish it.
in the meanwhile, it got me to thinking.
this squirrel – male or female – lactating or just downright feisty-hungry – took what it needed. it left the rest for – well – another squirrel or another time or some other critter that might want some green tomato.
in these times of this very, very blue wave – in these first few days post-tide-change – i have taken hope and light from this election. i have allowed myself to breathe, to lessen the knot in the back of my neck a tiny bit, to hope that maybe goodness is rising – forcefully and with intention.
i have not relinquished a sense of caution nor have i thought – even for a minute – that the fight is over. and the current vile administration has since made it clear that learning anything whatsoever from this pushback wave is impossible…as is caring and concern for the american people.
so we take what we need – a breath, some hope, a little bit of light, a refreshing glimpse of decency – and we continue on.
we leave the literal (and figurative) green cherry tomato on the deck rail for others to grab a breath, some hope, a little bit of light, a glimpse of decency – or – at the very least – some hydration – and we keep on keeping on.
we won’t be taunted by this squirrel’s adorable antics. they are harmless, following the north star lessons of mother nature, and we are people who care about the critters out there.
and we also won’t be taunted by this administration’s inconceivably pathetic and desperate attempts to make this country an authoritarian state. extremism and cruelty are their north stars. and that is – most definitely – not who we are.
anywhere we go now – the home improvement store, costco, various other sundry-type stores – it has become the holiday season.
frankly, this year i understand it. i could even go so far as to say i embrace it.
people are looking for light and walking through the doors into a winter wonderland of decorations and holiday hoopla is most definitely somewhat spirit-lifting.
in our sunroom, on top of the little wooden cabinet that holds espresso cups and cloth napkins, right next to the nespresso machine, is a little stack of wooden boxes. the bottom box is a cigar box that was my grandmother mama dear’s. it has a magic marker letter Z on it because she, an amazing seamstress, stored zippers in it. next is a wooden box with a sliding lid – from my poppo’s workbench – that held bolts and now holds vintage clothespins. then – on the top – the piece de resistance – is the old wooden box-joint/dovetail cornered bakery crate from the mid-1900s. hanscom’s bakery was in philadelphia and used these wooden crates for their popular holiday fruit cake.
now, i realize that fruit cake will elicit a wide spectrum of visceral responses. i think, actually, that most people do not like fruit cake – rum and brandy soaked with sweet fruits and nuts and citron topping. it’s likely a texture thing. or a sweet fruit thing. or the fact that one piece could keep an army of people full for a very long time. nevertheless, i grew up on fruit cake.
my sweet momma would buy them in those familiar metal tins and we’d each have a chance to, well, at least pretend we were enjoying it. in later years, she gave each branch of the family a fruit cake of their own. it sort of marked the beginning of the holiday season, like poinsettias and wreaths.
anyway, the wooden box is exquisite and was also in my dad’s garage workshop and is one of my inherited treasures from him. and right now, i am delighted that its presence in our sunroom – where we are spending sooo much time with – and helping – our sweet vestibular-syndromed-dogga – might mark a start to a holiday season of light.
in the rest of decorating, we will wait a while. i’ll try to hold off until thanksgiving so as to relish the rest of fall, my favorite season.
but then, all bets are off. and i will join with the retail world in the hype – even perhaps overdoing the joy.
because, heck, we sure could use some more joy now.
…and now, quite near the very tippy top of our tree branch out on the deck – the one with happy lights and a peace sign – the one where tiny birds perch to rest (and our branch smiles) – the one that was broken off our sturdy old tree in the front yard – now, there are blue lights.
because.
and so, the last two nights – wednesday and thursday – when we have looked out of our sunroom windows a shiver has passed through me.
it is a shiver of gratitude. it is a shiver of some relief. it is a shiver of pride. it is a shiver of anticipation.
there are no guarantees, but we – as a nation – from sea to shining sea – have spoken up.
we have clung to ideals of morality and decency and democracy. with our vote, we have lit up hope.
today is friday again and – for the first time in a long time – it has been a good week for the united states of america.
what is the future you choose – for you, your children, your grandchildren, the populace of this nation, the health and well-being of the entire world?
because perhaps – in exercising your citizen rights and duties – you should be as informed as possible.
because perhaps – in exercising your citizen rights and duties – you should balance what you have learned with what moral integrity actually means and determine where – on the continuum – you honestly stand.
because perhaps – in exercising your citizen rights and duties – you should seek the truth – not just the bandwagon hooplah of your political bubble, the one that excuses you from any other research.
because perhaps – in exercising your citizen rights and duties – you should maybe feel protective of your citizen rights and duties.
because perhaps – in exercising your citizen rights and duties – you should vote for that which will ensure you continue to have these citizen rights and duties.
when the fog lifts, we are hoping that our beloved dogga will be more himself.
it happened the beginning of this week. suddenly, for no apparent reason whatsoever, dogga collapsed. he was unable to stand, to walk, his eyes were jerking back and forth (nygastum) and he was dizzy and, clearly, terribly nauseous. it was pretty terrifying to witness this strong, vibrant dog suddenly incapable of movement, confused and scared.
vestibular disease (IVD) affects the balance system and comes on without warning. with symptoms that look horribly like a stroke, between reading dogcare sites, joining an online group and calls to veterinarians, we became aware of this syndrome (actually, a group of symptoms) we had never heard of before.
our world reduced to the sunroom.
we padded the floor with more non-skid rugs and cleared the room of extraneous stuff.
then we sat on the floor with our dogga and gently petted him, trying to ground him and keep him reassured.
we sat. and we sat. and we still sit…on the floor with him.
we moved an air mattress into the dining room (right next to the sunroom) and slept right next to him, waking multiple times during the night to help him move or to clean up from his extreme nausea.
for days now, we have not ventured further than the sunroom, though david carries dogga outside while i bring the big beach towel that serves as a sling to help hold him up.
we are learning presence and patience. we are leaning into hope.
when the fog lifts – and they say that sometime after 72 hours things should improve – we hope that he is able to be the dogga he knows he is, for we can see in his eyes he has no idea what has happened.
he’s been drinking water on and off when we hold it directly under him and on wednesday he ate the tiniest bit when i hand-fed him some chicken and rice. it is a very slow process and everything seems to be in slow motion here.
in a time when people are so divisive and angry and mean-spirited, i have found that there is a community of generous people whose dogs have experienced this who are out there, ready to help with reassurance and wisdom that comes from being through it. politics do not enter into the equation, not one little bit. instead, the opposite – compassion.
as i write this (on thursday) i remember late last night – also sitting at our little bistro table in the sunroom with dogga resting. last night we watched the milwaukee brewers win the world series and the fireworks went off in our neighborhood all around us. probably one of the worst days for dogga to hear fireworks, we both jumped back down to the floor to help shield him from the noise that frightens him. we tried to explain to him why people were so excited that they were shooting off fireworks. i could see what looked like a literal fancy firework display coming from just around the corner. it was an exciting night for milwaukee and wisconsin and it just took a few minutes to calm dogga back down while the fireworks eased up.
when the fog lifts – and dogga is past these crucial hours of this disease – we hope he returns to us as the dogga who jumps on the bed with his candy cane, who races in circles around the yard when the dachshunds are out next door, who noisily demands treats and happily follows us around the house. we hope the zillion words and expressions he knows are still present with him and that his confusion in the blurry world he is in right now begins to quickly wane. we hope that he feels better.
the thing we are sure of? when the fog lifts we will have spent every moment in the fog with him. and we wouldn’t have it any other way. we will walk with him out of the fog into whatever comes his way and will deal with it all one day at a time. dogga will still be dogga, regardless.
all things are possible – as long as he knows he is loved and we are right here with him.
and, geesh, isn’t that something we might all take into the rest of our lives?
reaching more than twice our height for the sky, these reeds populate the wetlands along the river trail. they do not bow their feathery heads, instead holding firm on seemingly delicate stalks, grouping together like a moshpit of band fans close to the apron of the stage with arms raised in the air.
their standing-tall is not compromised, not by rain or wind; they are resilient and there is nothing stopping them from their stance.
it is this way i believe that institutions should hold themselves – standing tall – with no reason to hide from or abdicate responsibility – with every reason to be able to proudly, resolutely be held accountable, to maturely shoulder the flak that will come their way for any wrongdoing, to answer to blame with humility and a determination to be better.
and yet – just like you – over and over, more and more now – particularly now – i find myself witnessing institutions that out and out refuse culpability, refuse to honestly account for the consequences of their actions or their inaction, cavalierly slough off any liability for things heinous.
reeds do their part in the wetlands – to help with erosion, to ensure natural water filtering, to aid in wildlife habitat.
institutions apparently do their part as well – with hypocritically and deliberate public faces of intelligence, reasonableness, compassion and integrity, way too many actually seek to avoid – at all costs – any true atonement of wrongdoing.
