“and into the woods i go to lose my mind and find my soul.” john muir
the green makes me breathe differently. the scent of the underbrush, of towering pine trees, of the breeze brushing by me, whispering sweet nothings. the sounds of rustling leaves, of birdcalls, of the crunch of my feet. the green.
entering a different space entirely, i succumb to the green. my mind slows down a bit, my pulse in tandem. my steps are less frantic; frenzy is left at the side of the gravel, at the side of the dirt worn down by the tread of other soul-quenching-seekers. this is the lure of the trail.
“in the woods we return to reason and faith.” ralph waldo emerson
the green makes me think differently. we are silent. we talk. we review. we ponder. mostly, we take one step after another. in beauty. we remember this place, this earth, this universe. we remember it is simply on loan to us. just for the briefest of times. our tiny flash of star is ephemeral. and, simultaneously, it is on loan to billions of other people, all just as deserving of the green as we are.
“each and every one of us can make changes in the way we live our lives and become part of the solution to climate change.” al gore
we simply cannot deny climate change any longer. the apocalyptic weather events across our nation point their – rightfully – accusing fingers at this nation, a nation financing the denial of this climate crisis. this place, victim to colossal weather events, massive wildfires, eroding shorelines, calving glaciers and shrinking arctic, human-contaminated air and water, disregard for the preservation of natural resources, big-money-agenda-ized lands. we have a responsibility to this good earth, which has nurtured and fed and watered us throughout our lives. we need preserve it. there will be those who follow. they will need the green.
“i don’t want your hope. i don’t want you to be hopeful. i want you to panic and act as if the house was on fire.” greta thunberg
shall we all participate in the evanescence of the green? or shall we all fight for the sustenance of this mother earth?
“now i can be really vicious,” the loving and enthused words of the [impeached] president of the united states at a rally saturday evening.
“vicious” is not a word you would associate with the behavior of the leader of the free world. “vicious” is not a word used by empathetic, compassionate, caring presidents about how they plan to treat their populace. “vicious” is not a word used in fair, properly and factually prepared, carefully articulated, mature campaigns. “vicious” is not an adjective used by politicians who are trying to unite, to heal, to raise awareness of inequalities, to thoughtfully bring health back to a nation, suffering from layers of dis-ease.
no. let’s face it: “vicious” is not even a descriptor used about dogs you want to be around.
and yet, there are people screaming for more at these rallies. there are people screaming on facebook, on twitter, on message boards, on signs, from stages and pulpits and country club dining rooms and the house-of-white. “vicious.”
where do we go from here? this president has given gross permission for people to be as base as possible, as vulgar as possible, as nasty as possible, as deceitful as possible, as mercilessly unremorseful as possible. he has conquered the heightened epitome of divisiveness, the “no” in no-moral-compass and has created seemingly insurmountable animosity in a country now brewing unrest between its citizens, its families, its friends, its colleagues, its communities, its states, its every-category.
“american decline” was graffitied across the bottom of a freight train. we sat and watched the cars go by, the xb in park just in front of the tracks. it was a long train, car after car, coal hopper after coal hopper, tank car after tank car, stunning graffiti on pretty much each one. it went by too fast to grab a phone to take a picture, but there it was – american decline – spray-painted across the bottom of the car. we read it aloud and then sat quietly.
what is there to say?
“at no time before has there been a clearer choice between two parties or two visions, two philosophies, two agendas for the future. there’s never been anything like this,” read this president at his narcissistic-ego-stroking-power-quenching-non-masked-socially-close-up-and-personal-maga-hat-wearing-rabid-fist-pumping-non-fact-checking-fear-mongering-descent-into-delusion-via-hook-line-and-sinker rally, a rally with an appalling lack of regard for the 194,000 people who have died of the pandemic that still rages across this country…the same pandemic he knew about in february and brutally lied to the public about. the same pandemic that has ravaged the lives of over 6.5 million families: their health, their work, their homes, their security, their futures.
there has never been anything like this. how true is that. it’s vicious.
guess what name i was called. it doesn’t require a knowledge of rocket science or even a working articulate vocabulary to come up with this one. “asshole.”
i thought about retorting, “is this a conversation starter or a conversation closer?”
or “sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me.”
or “did you skip kindergarten altogether?”
or “why is it that anytime facts are presented and conversation is possible the choice is made to resort to ugly name-calling instead?”
or – nothing.
the really hard thing here is that my own beloved sister “liked” that this third person called me this name. wow. i must say i would never publicly call my sister or any relative a derogatory name. there are some things that being related stops you from doing. well, at least in my opinion.
and so.
and so, what?
i don’t know.
i guess it is time to stop worrying. it’s time to stop encouraging fact-checking and critical thinking. it’s time to cease pointing out discrepancies, inequalities and bigoted, prejudiced sways. it’s time to no longer attempt to ask questions, have conversation, communicate about differences. it’s time to turn a deaf ear to the vitriol, rhetoric and hatred spewed in the name of patriotism. it’s time to step back and let the chips fall where they may and then not step in them.
or maybe not.
i don’t know.
but i guess it’s time to realize that, yes, it could have been worse. i could have been called a cupcake or a snowflake or, worse yet, infantile. oh. that’s right. been there, done-been-called-that.
yup. intellect and intelligent discourse are at a premium these days.
two people in a facebook thread LAUGHED (with the convenient use of laughing emojis) at a post i wrote responding to someone’s perception that there wasn’t a lot of peace and love going on in my town and to a comment about kenosha and what “BLM and rioters have done to beautiful cities” and that “denying that it exists [wouldn’t] make it go away.” i was sincere and fervently hopeful, while recognizing realities:
“here, with a house full of smoke from the fires, within hearing distance of the militia shots in the street. we could hear the blasts of tear gas, the yelling and chanting. we had a visceral front seat. but we also see many, many, many people coming together to try to address a long-standing (forever) problem of this nation. denying systemic racism exists will not make it go away. it is incredibly sad that conversation has to be aggressive and pointed, rather than generative and mindfully intentional. cities can be rebuilt, but lives are lost forever. i don’t want to live in a city that looks beautiful and is ugly underneath.”
and they laughed. LAUGHED. i had to step away to catch my breath before i could respond. what is becoming of human decency these days?
yes. kenosha painted boarded-up windows and painted over graffiti of negative messaging. yes. because, connectivity and love are the beginning. and reminders of those can only help. each positive message – in a city boarded up and burned and looted – reminds us of the most basic of emotions: LOVE. each positive message reminds us – as we walk about in this raw wound – that we are incomplete, we are flawed and we have much work to do. we need listen to each other, without overtalking. we need speak, without animosity. we need respect, without exception. we need conversation. we need connection. each positive message reminds us that hope exists, even in the tiniest brush of paint on wooden board.
this is a time of division, to be sure. day after day i am confronted with this reality and with peoples’ brazen attempts to undermine relationship with rhetoric and falsehoods, misplaced loyalties and inaccurate assumptions, and, worse yet, words of aggressive animosity and actual hatred. i wonder what the fallout will be. will the silken gossamer threads of connection sustain? will empathy fall by the wayside? will love of humanity – in all its shapes and sizes, genders, races, ethnicities, socioeconomic positions, religious affiliations – all its anythings – prevail?
“we live between the act of awakening and the act of surrender.” (john o’donohue) the question is always, every single day, how will we live? how will we spend that time? who will we be?
realizing the vast array of wise words that would also be appropriate alongside photographs we’ve taken in kenosha, i chose to post these words of dr. martin luther king jr., “darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” and i added this in answer to derisive comments about protestors:
“one of the foremost protestors in this land was dr. martin luther king jr. the thousands of people who walked in peaceful protest here, even drove and marched right by our house, were walking in that spirit. there have been rioters and looters in each city of unrest. they are spurred on by the vitriol and angry words of the current president, who seems to revel in discord and chaos. the fact is, the vast majority of people who are protesting in this nation are protesting in peace. just like in kenosha. this nation needs equality – the only way to get there is to listen to those who speak, listen to those who protest. their words count.”
and then, in a fine example of what conversation has defaulted to, i was called a “cupcake”, a “snowflake” and “infantile”. wow. i beg your pardon.
“while some will see the pied piper and his power as the devil, an evil entity that lures innocents away to their death, other interpretations see something entirely different: a christ-like savior.” (aimee h)
and there we have it.
this country has its very own pied piper. and in no way can this be a good thing.
“the term “pied piper”: … someone who, by means of personal charm, entices people to follow him or her, usually to disappointment or misfortune.” (maeve maddox)
without evidence nor using factual information, as is his unfortunate and biased practice, back in the early stages of this pandemic, the president of this country belittled others for wearing masks, and did not publicly himself wear a mask until mid-july, despite his presence in public places amongst citizens of this country deserving of respect and safety. his failure to make mask-wearing a national mandate in those earliest days of disease undermined the efforts of pandemic-fighters-treaters-sufferers across the country.
thus set the stage.
he pied-pipered his way all over fox news and media-biased outlets; he tooted his pipe into conspiracy theories, never taking responsibility for the safety of his populace. instead he led millions of people over the cliff and almost 190,000 people into death, simply by denying the very thing that could have minimized loss: a mask.
wearing a simple piece of cloth across your nose and mouth seems a small price to pay for a significant amount of safer passage through this time of pandemic. so it seems ludicrous and disgusting to go to the local grocery store and watch people arrogantly walk about with their masks firmly planted around their chins, just begging for someone to ask them to wear it properly. yes. the declining vigilance of the public.
the pied piper’s acolytes are everywhere and his followers are marching, goose-stepping toward what? the story of the pied piper relates that the followers – in the piper’s return to the village – were children and that those “children died of some natural causes such as disease or starvation and that the piper was a symbolic figure of death.” in easy metaphor, our very own piper, without evidence, has distilled the importance of masks to the point of dangerous disregard, pitting side against side, blather against facts, non-actions against actions, subjugating the very economy to disaster, costing jobs, homes, safety, the feeding of families, and has led this country to the brink of death.
is it his personal charm? i think not. the anger he has unleashed, the lack of moral compass, the lies, the rhetoric, the violence…his pipe-tooting seems limitless. instead of unity he chooses division. instead of health he chooses disease. instead of love he chooses hatred.
the pied piper, a self-described rat-catcher, piped to eradicate a poor town from an infestation of rats. ahhh. the metaphor continues. for, tucked into his own house-of-white, while tooting the ever-increasingly-ironic “draining of the swamp,” he and his minions have the best of the best pandemic tools and aids at their bidding. the 2000 people at the lawn rally bestowing accolades upon his every word and gesture have, likely, slightly fewer tools and aids. the millions of those watching fox news, tucked into living rooms across this country, have, likely, far fewer opportunities and far less resources to avoid or combat this coronavirus, this disease, this death.
but the one thing they could have? the one thing that is accessible to most anyone? the one thing that thousands of people sat in front of sewing machines making in the early part of this year, that are available most anywhere, from organizations or religious institutions or individual donors? the one thing that could have saved thousands of lives to date? the one thing that purportedly could still potentially save hundreds of thousands of lives?
masks.
please – vigilantly – wear a mask.
because the pied piper truly does not care if you live or die.
pied piper (noun): the hero of a german folk legend, popularized in the pied piper of hamelin (1842) by robert browning. a person who induces others to follow or imitate him or her, especially by means of false or extravagant promises.
one of my sweet momma’s favorite stories to tell me, about me, was when i used to stand in place and bellylaugh. she said i would put my tiny hands up in the air and then deeply bend at the waist and bring my hands down, up, down, repeating over and again, all while laughing heartily. it made everyone nearby laugh, hearts-open. it made her giggle to tell me this old story. and each time she told it i felt deeply loved.
i remember my first baby’s – The Girl’s – bellylaugh. it was extraordinary hearing this wee child, knowing little about the world, laugh. it felt like the same miracle when it was my second baby’s – The Boy’s – turn to chortle with all his little body. their giggles made everything in the moment alright. they are deeply loved and their giggles still to this day make everything in the moment alright.
so perhaps that’s a good place to start in the quest to be better humans. perhaps bellylaughing first about the sheer unlikeliness, the improbability, that you get to live this very instant, in this very place, at this very time. nevermind the division, the hostility, the challenges, the histrionics of forces-human-designed. you are here. i am here. no matter how same we are, no matter how different we are. we are in this together. that’s a start. now commence betterment.
“so, i wanna laugh while the laughin’ is easy. i wanna cry if it makes it worthwhile. we may never pass this way again. that’s why i want it with you.” (seals & crofts)
he spoke about humans today. how it all really boils down to a measure of how we live in community that is the important stuff. the never-pass-this-way-again moment-after-moment-ness of how we help each other, hold each other, support each other, raise each other up, love each other, regardless of the each or the other.
momma loved the verse “i shall pass through this world but once. any good, therefore, that i can do or any kindness that i can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. let me not defer or neglect it, for i shall not pass this way again.”
maybe the beginning of being better humans is that simple. let’s share this moment. let’s be amazed we are in it together. let’s be amazed we are in it at all. let’s learn how to be in community together. even in the hardest stuff. it’s a worthy exercise to see two people or two disparate groups defuse a hot and angry moment communicating with humor, to temper down with a lightness of spirit, to divert what could divide them forever, instead focusing on how to move forward with generous hearts.
maybe “let me drown in your laughter” (john denver) is a good start. maybe love will take shape in the pause of anger overtaken by a wave of kindness and gentle temperament, an intentional defusing of heat. maybe then grace will flow in like the tide of change. maybe then we can recognize what we have been, what we are, where we want to go, who we want to become – together. mindfully knowing “we all do better when we all do better.” (paul wellstone) maybe then we can – together – have the real conversations, sob the gut-wrenching and worthwhile cries, see our human failings. and we can take a tiny baby step toward being better humans.
yesterday a small peaceful protest drove and walked by our house. we live on a street perpendicular to the more important streets, the more likely avenues for protest. yet, right in front of us, right in front of our house, was this marvelous group of people marching and driving, chanting and beeping. we stood and clapped, joining their enthusiasm, echoing their pleas, and couldn’t have been more proud to see them go by. and we laughed in those moments of living, joining, hearts-open. not bellylaughs, but audible smiles, exulting in the baby steps, right here, right now.
my sweet momma would say, “teasing is a form of affection.”
in fourth grade it was a thing for boys to run after the girls on the playground, catch their arm and hold it with one hand while twisting their wrists in a move that had a terrible politically incorrect name. it was painful and undeniably punishable. no matter the circumstance, it was not defensible. tommy a. always chose me and i would go back into the classroom after recess with a reddened wrist, tears in my eyes and an infuriated heart. my teacher would tell me that tommy really likes me; my classmates would sing the “kerri and tommy sitting in the tree….first comes love…..” song. but tommy’s aggression was never a question. no, in this case, teasing was not a form of affection.
the metaphoric wrists of our country’s populace are being twisted day in and day out these days. have you not yet wearied of the rhetoric that, with no effort to quell it, is permeating the soundtrack of our lives? the sad thing is the gross advancement of this kind of muck, excrement of lies, wildly distorted narratives, convoluted lawlessness.
this is not the stuff of a fourth grade boy. indeed, this is the stuff of the president of the united states. the most powerful man in the free world.
weary doesn’t capture it.
how is this behavior acceptable, this distortion of truth, these made-up stories, this bold vitriol of violence, of division, this self-riddled agenda, this absolute hatred of the premise of equality in the entirety of this country based on one-and-all-regardless-of-gender-race-religion-socioeconomic-status?
the wrists are twisting in his party and they are doggedly, obediently following along, quietly rubbing their red wrists, checking their bank accounts and stock market holdings, gripping their offices with nary a glance to the physical, emotional, financial well-being and safety of their constituents. is this the reason to defend the indefensible?
tommy a. would invariably get in trouble. even in fourth grade, he was held accountable for his misdeeds. he was directed to apologize to me and to any other girl (or boy) who he had hurt out on the playground or the asphalt. his repeat offense yielded further punishment until he no longer equated his aggression with a “form of affection”.
when is it that these repeated offenses by the president of the united states and his pandering minions will yield punishment? when is it that this aggression will cease?
our country sits in the middle of a global pandemic that has killed over 185,000 americans. are you ready to die for the furthering of this president’s agenda? defend the indefensible.
our country sits in the middle of social, racial, gender injustice, a system broken and drowning in evil inequality, furthering the chasm between peoples of this nation. are you ready to be divided from family, from friends, from people you love, from neighbors for the furthering of this president’s agenda? defend the indefensible.
our country sits in the middle of the playground, its shores are disappearing, its forests are burning, its air is unclean, its water is toxic. are you ready to sit back in a lawn chair and watch as the world self-destructs for the furthering of this president’s agenda? defend the indefensible.
is this his form of affection? is this the way he shows love for this country?
“neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.” (desiderata, max ehrmann 1927)
i would venture to say that, for many, this is a time of spiritual aridity and woeful disenchantment. unconsolable worry, uneasiness, disillusionment, fear…pervasive as the humidity of early morning summer fog, the dew of late evening. we wait for the breeze to start to blow off the sticky and cool us down.
we speak up, for the winds of change will dispel our disease, our unease, our social injustice ill-at-ease. we stand, with love, at the ready to make it happen. we confront that which is not true, that which is harmful, hateful, that which is fear-mongering, that which incites violence and inequality among any and all people. for this we reap not benefits; instead we accumulate pervasive pushback, accusation, derision.
but love is, truly, as perennial as the grass. love will always lead the way out of aridity and disenchantment. love waits on the sidelines of the arena filled with division and hatred, ready to flow into the cracks. it’s our job as decent humans to create the cracks.
“and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. with all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.”
the “noisy confusion of life” punctuates our day with its rat-a-tat of false information, its innuendo, its delivery of agenda, its acrimony, its selfish serving of egos. the “sham, drudgery and broken dreams” are all around us.
and so is this beautiful world.
we walk past the pond, the wind on our faces. the grasses on the side beckon us to peek through. water lilies polka-dot the clear water. perennial as the sun, the morning and the dusk, the water lilies aerate the pond and keep the algae on the surface at a minimum, peacefully offering shelter to smaller sized fish.
but like many things that might look good on the surface, that might be aesthetically pleasing, that might speak to your individual soul, it is wise to be aware of the true qualities of water lilies and the perennials pondweed or yellow floating heart, plants that closely resemble them. many shockingly invasive, they can quickly take over, without others even noticing, choking out the life of the pond.
…this global pandemic is just that – global- and is not discerning of your privilege (or lack thereof). it does not care. it can take anyone. and so we weep.
if there is a painting that depicts the face-holding grief and prayerful yearning for hope, it is this painting WEEPING MAN.
i wonder if he weeps for those who have fallen ill, those who have died. i wonder if he weeps for those who refuse to acknowledge the seriousness of this pandemic. i wonder if he weeps for those on the front lines, helping. i wonder if he weeps for those who have hidden in extravagant bunkers underground in far away countries. i wonder if he weeps for our isolation. i wonder if he weeps watching people intolerant of the isolation that will protect others, people who are selfishly and arrogantly protesting stay-at-home orders. i wonder if he weeps for the unrelenting non-discrimination of this contagion or if he weeps for the divisiveness of responsibility-taking, the it-doesn’t-affect-me attitude. i wonder if he weeps for the continuance of humanity. or if he weeps for the loss of humankind. or, if he weeps for the lack of humaneness. i wonder if he weeps because, in the middle of this trying and profound now, Next will come. i wonder if this painting is tomorrow’s tomorrow and he weeps with relief and hope.
today:
i am outraged.
where have we come since april 23 of that writing? we have been cautioned. we have been advised. we have had the benefit of science, the benefit of research, the benefit of funding, the heart-wrenching benefit of experience.
we have lost 150,000 people.
and we stand to lose many more.
the shifting quicksand of the pandemic threatens to overwhelm our nation, this country fraught with division and a dedication to entitlement. people argue for their “right” to do-what-they-want because, well, they want to. the “we-didn’t-get-to-do-this-so-we-get-to-do-that” mode of thinking. a warped sense of deservedness, i’ve heard it time and again. to hell with masks, with physical distancing. to hell with recommendations about gatherings. to hell with self-sacrifice. to hell with responsibility. to hell with leadership, with facts, with example-setting. to hell with it all. people-living-in-a-community-called-a-country are left-and-right touting their deserved-rights to live as they wish, to gather as they wish, to travel as they wish, to do what they wish. and the overwhelmingly whiny justification-among-justifications is because they didn’t get to do what they originally wished or planned or wanted. wow.
and the pandemic continues.
and the people-living-in-a-community-called-a-country live as individuals more dedicated to their own desires than to the actual good of the country. to hell with all those people dying. to hell with all those sick. to hell with the sanctity of each and every living human being. to hell with all those lasting repercussions of this disease. to hell with a spirit of helping. to hell with a spirit of community. whose idea was that anyway?
and so we continue to destroy ourselves – in so many arenas. and the weeping man watches from the sidelines as the divided people lash it out in the stadium, gladiators of precisely what?
creativity is not always a serious thing. songwriting isn’t always serious. today we offer you the attempt we made on washington island to record our brilliant and profound song SITTING HERE IN THE SUN. we understand, with 7 takes, if you can’t bear to watch it all. and we understand if you are underwhelmed by the song (not to mention the angle of video recording) – when you finally get there. but right now – at the very beginning of a new year and a new decade – we are thinking maybe the laughter is the most important song of all.
reverse threading 