every single day. the insanity, the chaos – it is all exhausting.
there is nothing beautiful about the goings-on in this america-the-beautiful as it is led by cruelty and bigotry beyond belief. we are inside their sickness, a violent extremism that is gutting the heart of this democracy.
it makes me lean on a card i have in my studio. i received it from a dear friend in 2012, shortly after my sweet poppo died. i’ve quoted it before, but it certainly bears repeating. it reads:
“life is slippery. here, take my hand.” (h. jackson browne, jr. )
now, it seems, is a good time to take one another’s hand.
there are definitely days – many of them – during which we would love to just run away. go to some far away remote place and hole up together, sans current events and other people. because it is all sometimes unbearable.
a writer and former pastor, john pavlovitz said it well, “the greatest tragedy to me isn’t him. it isn’t the reality that the person in the highest seat of power in our nation lacks a single benevolent impulse, that his is impervious to compassion, incapable of nobility, and mortally allergic to simple kindness. the greatest tragedy is how many americans he now represents – and that he represents you.”
there are too many “you”s.
and, like this dill in the middle of the heat-dome-heat, we are wilted. because it is exhausting. utterly exhausting.
i don’t honestly know how this country can ever regain its heart.
i don’t know how we got here – though one can certainly track lines of bigotry and hatred and violence through history. the ebb and flow of the heartless seeking of power, control, profit through any means whatsoever, without any scruples, ethics, or conscience.
the things that are happening, the things that people champion – people i have known or loved or cared about – the things that diminish support for others, marginalize groups, perpetuate cruelty…it’s just too much.
and…the grief. not just the grief of the arc of this history, but the contemporaneous grief. it is exhausting. utterly exhausting.
no amount of water will unwilt this dill. it will turn yellow and then brown and these stems will die. for these stems – in the extreme heat – have reached the point of no return. i must be more vigilant to protect the rest of the plant, to – figuratively – keep its heart beating and its spiny stems upright.
so it is here – in the middle of this reeling and this vigilance and this burning grief and this already-deeply-bone-aching tiredness i wonder how – exactly – we can keep the heartbeat of democracy when the moral spine of this nation is so compromised.
i don’t remember ever seeing as many political signs over the course of a decade as this past decade. i – frankly – am weary of it, though, i must say, it gives you a shortcut into someone’s mindset. without even a conversation with the stranger in a particular house with a particular sign, you can pretty much assume (and, yes, i know the perils of assumption) their stance. though earlier decades would have necessitated intelligent conversation and debate, this decade has made staaaaances abundantly clear.
with flags flying and banners bannering and yard signs standing tall and proud, the political fight has taken to gardens and yards and flagpoles and suspended from the eaves of peoples’ homes. enough already.
in vapid displays of tactlessness, there – apparently – is no longer any leaning to abide by the ‘political signs should be removed within seven days after the election’ legislation so often mandated by municipalities, cities, states et al. enough.
and because it always seems like we are in some sort of election cycle, it is now never-ending. signs galore. enough.
it is exhausting. and rather depressing. to see – without a doubt – what you are surrounded by.
reverse threading 