i wish they had been my size. but they weren’t. and so it seemed right to hand them down – these peace-sign-high-top-converse i had given my dad. and 20, well, he was cinderella in this equation. his feet fit.
he wore them for our wedding. he walked me up the aisle to join david, who i would stand next to for our ceremony and our life. he had tears in his eyes as we walked together. it was one of those moments, when long-term friendship and all its challenges and rewards come to the tippy-top and love of chosen-brother-sister rises above all else.
i love it every time i see 20 wear these sneakers, especially when he tells me about people who comment on them. i’ve never seen another pair.
i have hand-me-down converse high-tops from my girl’s closet; they are solid pink. there’s a second pair that are kelly green, loaded with all kinds of pen-doodles. i wear the pink ones – they make me happy because they were hers. yes…no thread escapes my attention.
but these? these peace-sign-high-tops? right now – in the toxic climate of this country – in this precarious world – if they were my size – i would wear these converse every day.
she said it so often i wanted it to become a part of my own everyday vocabulary. borrowing from the french, “vis-à-vis” means in relation to or compared with or refers to a counterpart.
finding hearts – everywhere – merely stepping into the hall – a tiny tissue heart – and a quiet reminder: love one another. it prompts me to think of my relationship vis-à-vis the world. do i lead with love?
by the time you are reading this, the third no-kings protest rally will have taken place over the weekend. we will all publicly acknowledge our tolerance or intolerance of this administration’s regime-like policies and cruelties. we will publicly show our feelings about the current state of our country. we will push back on corruption, on explicit authoritarian advances, on extremism, on downright mean-spiritedness. we will stand for goodness and the republic this nation was meant to be.
my vis-à-vis and i will express ourselves vis-à-vis this country and its subverted stance vis-à-vis democracy.
the hawk didn’t move even as we rounded the bend in the trail. it stayed in the tree – watching – its clear vision taking in all that was below it, the lay of the land, so to speak. not swayed by anything other than what was true, it quietly watched, consciously aware.
it is what is striking about these times in our world. the amount of conscious avoidance – the ignoring of what is happening – the lack of question or research even in the face of the obvious – acting with eyes wide shut.
it is reprehensible that so many people deliberately ignore all of which is destroying this country, closing their eyes, not taking any responsibility for their inaction and for their complicity, their lack of seeking to learn the facts, their willful blindness.
it takes my breath away to know that people i know and love are consciously avoiding the truth and, thus, supporting the immense chaos that is now this country…even though every – suspicious or otherwise – single thing that has happened or is happening would confirm the existence of that very chaos.
we went around the bend and stopped. we looked back at the hawk and i took a few photographs, wishing i had a stronger telephoto lens.
and then the hawk – which had remained relatively motionless as we approached and stood underneath the tree in which it was perched – took off.
flying over the meadow and marsh below it, it was clear to us that it had set its sights on something, its focus zeroed in as it flew.
the hawk landed on a branch across the marsh from us. still laser-focused on its prey and the ground below, it had the tenacity that comes from clarity of vision.
with wisdom and power, this hawk had an instinctual plan based on being aware.
how is it that there are a plethora of people in this country who fail to function even at the level of a bird?
it was even before the windstorm. before the tree fell in a yard behind us. before the tree – landing on the wires – snapped the utility pole. before the utility pole put intense tension on our electrical wires. before that tension severely bent our electric mast. before our quadrant in the neighborhood lost all power for two days. before the house was aching-joint-cold inside. before the angst of the last-minute – very pricey – ultimatum of having to have a new mast installed – on a weekend – before we could get power restored to our home. before.
because there was plenty before all that that required comfort.
and it was most definitely a pasta day.
had we had power, each of those next days were also pasta days.
it was dang cold in the house. everything slowed to a standstill. no power, no heat, no internet, not a lot to do but watch out the window and wait for any sign that the power company was coming.
our friends and neighbors – we all kept in touch. they rallied around us with offers of help, our turn for the concern of those who care about us.
when the power company did arrive and we saw them out back, it began to raise our spirits. we knew they had a lot to do – the downed tree, wires all enmeshed in bushes and tree branches, a snapped pole in a difficult-to-get-to place, placing a new pole, restringing wires. a ‘hood without power. our comfort lay in their hands.
and these guys – in windy conditions and cold temperatures – and eventually – snow – were out there, diligently getting it done.
at the last minute we were told they couldn’t safely connect us without a new electric mast. 4pm on a saturday.
in high gear, we feverishly placed calls and texts to electricians and our friends and electricians of our friends. we knew it might not be easy to get someone – with a mast in their back pocket – to swing by and install it – at that very moment.
the young electrician who’d done work for us before came through. and it was no small comfort we felt knowing that he and his colleague were out there installing our shiny new electric mast. in texts our friends cheered them on.
the power guys were finishing up when our guys were juuuust about done. knowing the weather that was due to arrive the next day – a blizzard and, subsequently, negative windchills – they worked together to make sure we got connected – the only house with a damaged mast in this particular wind-tree-wires-pole-wires-mast fiasco. comfort.
i walked back into the house – with all the layers on that i had worn for the entire day – and the lights were on. i could hear the boiler as it worked to start warming up the radiators, which had a long way to go from in-house temperatures in the 40s.
d and i stood in the living room, staring at each other, tired from the worry and the cold.
we both spoke generous words of appreciation for the workers who had restored power – that basic of which we all take for granted. we both spoke generous words of appreciation for the electricians who dropped everything and accommodated our need. we both spoke generous words of appreciation for those people who had reached out to virtually keep us company. we both spoke generous words of appreciation for keeping relatively calm in what had become increasingly angst-ridden.
“symbolizes wisdom, intuition, and the ability to see beyond deception or hidden truths.” (google)
it was on our way back on an out-and-back trail. we had already had the good fortune of hiking in the sun, our shadows falling on reedy marshes and fallowed underbrush of the forest, deer crossing our path.
the trail was muddy. i was watching where i was stepping.
and there it was.
a solitary feather.
a search told us it was an owl feather.
though there are resemblances to hawk feathers, i’m not minding the idea of going with owl – particularly since the symbolism is timely.
so, let’s go with that. (of course, i do welcome any birder’s opinions on this.)
we left it there, on the trail.
but we carried with us the good news of its symbolism, the wisdom, intuition and ability to discern truth. heaven knows we all sure need that right now.
in these times of unbelievable chaos, unbridled deception and grift, rank, depraved cruelty, a country being unconscionably deceived by its appallingly incompetent leaders, we are certain to need to stand in earnest wisdom with clear-eyed views of what is real versus what is propagandized or outright lying. we need to move with grace through all these challenges, protected against vast negative energy, step by step toward transformation and renewal in our country.
maybe we should all carry a virtual owl feather in our back pockets as we walk through these days.
so we are in the habit of celebrating. not just the big stuff.
particularly in this time – when all the world is in chaos, when we all have no idea what horrific thing will happen next, when there is so much trepidation about losing this country’s very democracy, we – now – celebrate the little stuff as well. and, as you can tell by this photograph, we -big-time – know what we’re doing when it comes to celebrations.
we know that most people choose to, well, maybe go out to dinner as a celebration, or maybe go away on a trip or to an event of some sort, maybe go shopping and splurge on a purchase of something long-awaited for.
we tend to be a little lower-key than all that. but even our most modest celebrations are still celebrations.
it doesn’t take much. in our zeal, we hiked two loops of our river trail. though suddenly exhausted from the toll that anticipation takes on adrenaline, happy kept us going, step by step. breathing the fresh air and feeling the sun – warm enough to take off our jackets – was its own cause for joy.
yes…on this particular day – last week, i might point out – we were beyond excited. our celebration was actually quite thrilling and filled our hearts.
and so we splurged on a $2.79 bag of munchos (on sale at woodman’s) and poured two glasses of wine. we pulled two adirondack chairs from the garage and sat in the 50-plus-degree-sun out on the patio and clinked. when the clouds covered the sun and the wind picked up we went inside, to sit at the bistro table by the window in our sunroom. with dogga on the rug at our feet, we lit a new gift, a soy candle in beautiful cut glass.
and we settled into festivity.
“enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.” (robert brault)
it was his birthday this weekend. he turned 65, a big-deal-birthday. my sweet momma always paid special attention to those big-deal-birthdays – especially the ones that were divisible by 5.
we had plans for friday – particularly because his actual birthday falls on busy valentine’s day – it just figures he is a valentine’s day baby! we were going to go to the milwaukee art museum and then to the public market, to sit at the counter and lunch on divine gumbo.
dogga woke us up early, not feeling well.
and that changed everything.
for this man – this man full of heart – whose very heart aligns with mine – with whom i have mutually – side by side – endured all matters of life for years now – decided he’d rather stick close to home, to be by our dogga so we can keep an eye on him and love on him.
in years hence, it will never matter to either of us whether we went to the art museum on friday, nor will it matter if we had gumbo that exact day. what will matter is that we let our love of our beloved dogga lead us and we prioritized with him in mind.
and this is just one of the reasons i know that “i don’t care about any words on the map besides you are here.”
some stuff just doesn’t matter. and where we spend time together is one of them, for anywhere on the map together – is home together.
i grant you – yes – that we would love to tool about the country – heck, the world – and explore and hike and photograph and write and paint and play music and create joy as we go. we’d love to immerse in places near and far – and feel the actual place, its actual culture, its energy, its gifts – for all places have innumerable gifts to offer.
but at this moment in time, we are happy – content – to be home in our old house, to be sharing our home with each other, to be sharing our home with our old dogga.
there will be other moments. there will be other places to see. there will be maps-with-words and plans and adventures.
right now here – with each other – is the most important place ever.
i tore out the page from the stio catalog because the words spoke to me: “chase bliss”.
a few days ago we spent some significant time in the emergency room. i told the youngish doctor there that i could count the number of times in my entire life that i had been to the emergency room, likely on two hands. i do not take going there lightly and i trust that the brilliant minds gathered there – in that tiny ecosystem – will help me…not only in my pain and confusion, but in my fear as well.
i told him this because he kept cutting me off mid-sentence as i was trying to explain my symptoms and as i was trying to ask him questions. he acted as if i was undermining his authority. i was simply being a patient. the more he stopped me from talking, the more i knew i needed to advocate for myself. i told him that the first step in empathy is listening, to which he defended himself by telling me he had spent more time with me than anyone else, including “the guy in the next room who died and came back.” wow. we are not talking equivalencies here. we are simply talking good bedside/doctor-patient communication.
the moments when i felt inordinate and unexplained constant pain that i hadn’t ever experienced before were frightening. all i wanted to do on that gurney was try to understand it, treat it, feel normal and go home.
it’s now the next day, friday, a bit before this blog posts. i am sipping coffee. i can hear the birds outside near the feeder, black-capped chickadees, cardinals. i am grateful for the quilt, the dogga at my feet, d next to me. i am cautiously checking in on how i am feeling and giving thanks for much less pain, and – hopefully – an end to the crisis.
though not ready to spring out from under the covers, i am ready to chase bliss.
no joke.
it doesn’t have to be grandiose. it doesn’t have to cost money or require dedication beyond what i am capable of giving right now.
but bliss nonetheless.
i just downloaded a new book for us to read together. this is bliss.
we will fill the bird feeder again today and put seed on barney and the potting stand. this is bliss.
we will watch the flurries fall. this is bliss.
we are making dinner tonight for 20, a day late. this is bliss.
i’ll have a phone call with a beloved old friend this weekend. this is bliss.
next week we will gather with our dear friends to start watching the entirety of the seinfeld show together. this is bliss.
we plan to make irish guinness stew for the up-north-gang in our stew-agogo early in the week. this is bliss.
we will wander about in our old house, cleaning and cleaning out. this is bliss.
we will bundle up and traipse out onto our favorite trail. this is bliss.
have a little text exchange with the girl and the boy. this is bliss.
lay on the floor and hug dogga. this is bliss.
listen to george, mike oldfield, john denver, james taylor, arvo. bliss.
watch the olympics. bliss.
dance in the kitchen with d. bliss.
dream aloud plans for a little bit later. bliss.
breathe. bliss.
it’s not decadent. it’s not complicated. it’s different for everyone, everywhere, i know.
but in a world that is fraught, a world that seems to be listing toward the ruthless, the uncaring, the oppressive, the tyrannical – a harsh world – it doesn’t seem to be overstating that bliss becomes even more imperative than it already was.
to recognize it, to seek it, to freaking – and whole-heartedly – chase it.
why wouldn’t nature – in all its magnificent glory – wonder what in the hell is going on?
why wouldn’t nature – in its most minuscule and its most vast – its most discreet and its most deafening – stare down humanity, shocked at the impunity?
why wouldn’t nature – in its chugging-chugging ability to keep on keeping on – shake its head as the people, living within its generosity, destroy it?
why wouldn’t nature – working around its infinite challenges to maintain a healthy and centered balance – be infuriated at so many unresolved conflicts, so much bigotry, so much extremist agenda?
why wouldn’t nature – in its symbiotic synergy – be aghast at such lack of cooperation, such disregard to interdependence?
why wouldn’t nature – in its innate ability to BE love – drown in tears of devastated sadness?
“this is our moment … to meet a whole lot of hate with a whole lot of love.” (minneapolis mayor jacob frey)
truth be told – as far as i’m concerned – it is never NOT the moment.
i am horrified to see footage of the minneapolis neighborhoods under siege, horrified that – in these days in this country – homeland security is taking over the homeland and decimating any security people might feel, horrified to think about the actual people walking those streets, living in those conditions, horrified at the violence, horrified at the lies. our daughter went to the university of minnesota. she loved the university and minnesota, both. though i must say that i am grateful she graduated long ago and is not now in those terrifying conditions, i am heartbroken and enraged for those who are.
just as horrified as i am as i think about our son in chicago – walking the streets where this country’s government rabidly storms around, terrorizing anyone who falls in their particular we-hate-you list.
just as horrified as i am to think about family members who live scattered about this country who continue to cheer on and revel in the insanity and vileness of this administration, the brutality of the actions taken against real live people.
just as horrified as i am to think about relatives in finland, in norway, in spain, in the uk, anywhere in this world under the sun – people living in other countries, countries that are finding themselves targets of the abuse of this country – OUR country – who are astonished by the power-hungry attempts at changing the world order – with the potential of forever-devastation, at eliminating any peace that might exist between nations.
just as horrified as i am to think about my parents, both of whom now occupy a different plane of existence, both of whom i am certain are disgusted with the hideous regime at the helm of a country whose democracy for which they fought.
what in the absolute hell?
if you are one of those people who believe that hate – this kind of hate, any kind of hate – is the foundation upon which you build your house, please do not contact me again. you have lost perspective. you have lost the whole point of living.
reverse threading 