we have been really cautious through all this time – years, really – trying to be respectful of and avoid getting covid.
but here we are…in our matchy-matchy red buffalo plaid flannel pjs, suffering together.
those who have been through this already know about the fever, the headache, the incessant cough, the intense sore throat, the congestion, the tightness in your chest, the exhaustion, the aches and pains and all that. it is one hellish virus. it’s somewhat stressful for me just knowing i have this. i can’t help but remember the early days of the pandemic and the heart-breaking devastation it wrought. we have been fortunate; we haven’t ever tested positive before though we have each had some of the symptoms.
but here we are…in our matchy-matchy flannels, complaining and whining together.
a good night’s sleep seems like a really good idea – until you are laying there, coughing your silly head off all night.
dogga doesn’t seem to mind how we look or sound – and we are ever-so-grateful to be home.
but we are a bit worse for wear.
so don’t mind us as we stay put – here in our house or out on our back deck…in our red buffalo plaids, sniffling and coughing and making our way out of covidland.
“there is nothing so american as our national parks…the fundamental idea behind the parks…is that the country belongs to the people, that it is in process of making for the enrichment of the lives of all of us.” (president franklin d. roosevelt, 1934)
it is impossible to stand in our national parks and not be filled with a pure sense of patriotism. the vistas of zion national park – and each place we experienced – sparked our “america, the beautiful“.
even right now, when the word “patriotic” presents entendre at best questionable, we could feel it…the heart-swelling kind, the proud-of-this-land kind, the we-are-so-fortunate kind. certainly not the nationalistic, extremist, exclusionary, divisive, white-man-only-drum-beating kind.
we were all trying to take a little time away from politics, from the news of the day, trying to immerse in the beauty and ignore the ugly.
but – i must say – ignoring the ugly in the middle of the beautiful seemed irresponsible to me. because just as our national parks are fundamentally ours – belonging to the people of this country – so is the constitution and the goodness of this country. and that, my friends, is in peril. and i could not forget it…even out in the sacred wild-ness of this land.
project 2025 – the playbook for maga – seeks to repeal the 1906 antiquities act – the first united states law passed for the purpose of protection of these national parks and places of national monument, protecting cultural and natural resources with historic or scientific value. project 2025 wishes to eviscerate these protections, giving that administration free latitude on decisions for all these lands.
standing in bryce, in zion, in arches, in capitol reef, in the grand canyon, we can only be too aware of the presence of the protections for these glorious tracts of land. we cannot imagine another fate for these places of intense beauty. this landmark law – the antiquities act – has safeguarded these places for the use and enjoyment of current and future generations – a law of responsibility and virtue.
the national park service pledge promises to the people of the united states “the owners of our nation’s parklands” – among other things: “to protect your right to experience the presence of superlative wildness and scenic grandeur, to communicate to all an understanding of the people and events that shaped these united states, to join with all people of this and other nations in conserving and renewing the total environment to keep this world a pleasure to live in…”
there was an older woman – likely in her 70s – heading toward us on the path. she was clearly enjoying her time at the park. and as she passed, she proudly wore a “womenfor –” maga hat on her head. i stared at her hat. every ounce of me wanted to stop her and have a conversation. i wanted to know what had happened to her in her life that made her wish for a man who demeans, abuses, detests women to be the president of this beautiful country. i wanted to know how she could – in all good conscience – wear a hat with the name of a convicted felon, a rapist, a liar, a racist, a misogynist, a grifter, an insurrectionist, an exceptionally narcissistic inward soul-less and pathetic old man. i wanted to know how she could support that candidate’s efforts to undermine the rights of so many. i wanted to know if she was thinking about any future generations. i wanted to know how she could justify that candidate’s desire for autocracy, for revenge, for a cruel and divided america. i wanted to know how she could walk on this sacred and protected land knowing that her candidate of choice doesn’t give a damn about it. i wanted to know how she could wear THAT hat.
i simply cannot wrap my head around it.
it was impossible to avoid. here we were – in the grand expanse of unspeakable and stunning beauty – and i was worried.
there is little time left before this election.
it is time to get patriotic – in the purest and truest sense of that word. protect the constitution of this country. protect the rights of the people. protect the land. protect your daughters and sons and grandchildren. protect the united states.
turn the page on this hideous candidate and the extremism of his ugly self-serving and incoherent, angry rhetoric, his vile intentions.
move forward. keep this world a pleasure to live in.
*****
patriotic: having or expressing devotion to and vigorous support for one’s country.
if it were possible to feel like a pine tree, this would have been the day.
in the vastness of this bryce canyonland, we stood on the edge – like this pine tree – and gazed over an incredible expanse. it was not merely beautiful. it was beyond words.
and, once again, i felt it in my heart – that wobbly feeling you get when you realize – truly realize – how utterly small you are in all of thissssss.
we celebrate our anniversary today. there is so much more to explore. there are many more adventures to be had. there are more uphills and downhills. there are more learnings and experiences and times to hold.
and there are more moments like this – where we are reminded of the tiny morsels of being that we are and the sheer gratitude for the chance to be here, to share this.
if you asked me to name one striking thing about our relationship, i would tell you that we are touchers. we hold hands, we walk arm in arm, we snuggle. there are exquisite moments like when he kisses the top of my head or unexpectedly rubs my shoulders.
this is not the stuff of the grandest passion of romance movies, but it is the stuff of grand passionate romance.
i will hold hands with this man anywhere, any time. for all time.
and so it started. surrounded by sagebrush and cactus, with the sun rising across this desert, unfamiliar land, we began our adventure.
we got up early to see it rise – knowing it would take some time to come up over the mesa. we held mugs of coffee in our hands, excited to begin exploring with our friends in this other part of the country.
and as we stood there – ever so patiently waiting for this new day, the juniper called to us – “go…have fun…be in this place…begin something new…we – the juniper, the sagebrush, the cactus, the red rock will hold you…start now.”
we skipped back to the airbnb house, mugs empty and hearts full.
“happiness is….happiness is….happiness is…different things to different people. that’s what happiness is.” (ray conniff)
i can’t use these glasses – gifted to us – without hearing that song. our tonic and lime makes it happen every time. I don’t fight it. i succumb to it – humming or bursting into song – at least inside my head.
nine years ago the monday of this week was the start. everyone was on their way – sometime during that week. we entertained at our old house each night – and everyone present came for dinners we prepared with an entourage of kitchen helpers. it was a barn raising in every good way.
by the time we actually got married – at the end of the week – we were pretty darn tired. but happiness? it was abundant.
every now and then there is a moment, a snag, a who-are-you-and-what-are-you-doing-here. we all have them. but, in the way of moments, they are momentary. and if i give myself space to think about the passage of time and everything that has brought us to the puny moment, to allow in perspective, i am able to process, to rejuvenate out of puny, back to happiness. ok….not an immediate bouncing-dancing-leaping-about kind of happiness, but a deep-from-within happiness that reminds me of the reason we two people joined. the support, belief and love of our families, friends, community have generously seen us through.
every now and then there is a moment, a wildly astonishing wide-eye, a heart-lifting teary eye, an i-wouldn’t-wanna-be-anywhere-else. and, in the way of moments, it is a gift, a reminder of the unlikeliness of ever having met, a gratitude for how the universe aligned two tiny stars distantly apart, a peek into the big heart – and the sense of humor – of whatever deity you wish to name. those are bouncing-dancing-leaping-about kinds of happiness moments.
each year that we celebrate another year we relive that week preceding our wedding. each year we are grateful. each year we are really aware of happiness … which begets happiness … which begets happiness.
a time for women. to stand up. to speak up. to speak out. to vote. a time for men. to stand up. to speak up. to speak out. to vote. in support of women.
though i have not remained quiet, i cannot be silent. i – literally – cannot stand the hypocrisy another second.
in a tip-of-the-iceberg quote from the maga candidate about illegal immigrants, an argument he has amplified over and over for remigrating as many non-whites as he can, “they’re bringing drugs. they’re bringing crime. they’re rapists.” (time magazine 2015)
my rapist was not an illlegal immigrant. he is a white citizen of the united states.
e. jean carroll’s rapist was not an illegal immigrant. he is a white citizen of the united states.
frankly, with my apology for the strong language, i am weary of the bullshit.
i am weary of the double-standard. i am weary of the lies, the warped narcissism, the self-aggrandizing, the distractions.
i am weary of this appalling concerted effort by white extreme misogynistic nationalists to limit women, to undermine their choice, to silence their voice.
i am weary of the rapist running for president. his vileness should have destroyed his presidential aspirations long ago.
but what i find even more unconscionable is the utter complicity of men and women who will vote for this repulsive movement, who will turn a blind eye, who will vote for this predator. how low will you go to sabotage your daughters, your mothers, your granddaughters, your sisters, your girlfriends? women, where is the value you place on womanhood, on yourself, on your freedoms, on how you have fought for and lived your actual life? and men? where is the value you place on womanhood? or don’t you?
stevie nicks says it well in her new song, the lighthouse:“don’t let them take your power…don’t leave it alone in the final hours. they’ll take your soul, they’ll take your power. don’t close your eyes and hope for the best. the dark is out there, the light is going fast until the final hours. your life’s forever changed and all the rights that you had yesterday are taken away. and now you’re afraid. you should be afraid, should be afraid….is it a nightmare? is it a lasting scar? it is, unless you save it and that’s that unless you stand up and take it back, take it back.”
we watched roed, a short video by dawn lambing, earlier this week. it took my breath away as it depicted two women pulled over, subjected to a urine pregnancy test on the side of the road. it was horrifying, and, in this maga-triumphant post-roe climate, not unlikely.
yet, this is the direction maga wants to go, this is just merely part of the road – the swift controlling highway – of project 2025.925 pages of mandates to remove freedoms, to marginalize people, to undermine democracy, to abolish any checks and balances, a takeover of the federal government shifting power to an authoritarian leader, a document designed to rule the populace.
are you listening any more? are you paying attention? are you merely entertained by this chaos? have you considered this maga candidate’s incoherence, his ugly, his rhetoric, the propaganda?
or does the maga plan make you somehow feel good, feel powerful, feel justified in your complicity, in your support, in your vote??
have you THOUGHT about any of this? do you have a bottom line to feeding – what is obviously – your abundant hatred?
it’s unconscionable. and you know it.
and it makes me weep to think you think it is ok.
it is a season for pink.
“try to see the future and get mad. it’s slippin’ through your fingers. you don’t have what you had. you don’t have much time to get it back.”
years ago now. it was almost inky night, clear, a bit brisk but not windy. as i moved from the bank into the middle of the flow i noticed it. the moonlinefollowed me…everywhere i went. despite all the time i had already spent at water’s edge and on the water, it was the first time – in my memory – that it became apparent to me – this moonbeam shadow of mine.
and i think of you – my love, my children, my family, dear friends – next to me or somewhere else in this world – looking at the night sky as well. this same moon. with your own personal moonbeam shadow. and i am heartened by our sharing of this. for if we are looking at the same moon, then certainly we are not too far from each other. under the same sky, the same stars, the same blanket of galaxy.
so as i stand on rocks next to lake michigan i am reassured by this season of the full moon. and as i think of you, i whisper along the beam, hoping that the moon will deliver you my words.
“…when the moon dances in your hair, i will be there…for all the days of your life, for all your life …” (kerri sherwood – for all your life)
“burning sundown, colored autumn trees, mountain rivers, country livers put my mind at ease. and to realize such perfect harmonies, i’m standing in the dawn of a new day coming on and i’m looking for no tomorrow.” (john denver – in the grand way)
breck is turning. little by little we can see it. if it isn’t too stressed in a week or two, this aspen will be golden and its leaves will shimmer in the sun. breck is standing in the moment…tall, steadfast, perfect…in the dawn of a new day coming on.
i get that. after everything, every big and little thing that has happened over the last few years, i feel like i am – at last and finally – standing in the dawn – here, now – and looking for no tomorrow.
we are – in this sweet phase – doing right now. to be present in your present is, i think, a gift you give yourself. we sprint the rest of the time – striding, striding, sprinting, sprinting – to something we can’t necessarily qualify. we’ve all taken our turn doing this.
and, sitting in the mountain stream, we laid it all down. it floated off with the leaf bits floating past our old brown boots perched on slippery rocks in the middle of the flow. looking for no tomorrow.
reverse threading 