it’s been just over four months now and i no longer recognize this nation.
i was clearly delusional, thinking we lived in a steady democracy where people valued people, where love and equity and fairness and compassion were paramount, where being our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers was important – even cherished, where we strove to provide opportunity to all regardless of any differences, where checks and balances ensured lawful practices, where collaborative government transcended singular power-mongering, where the natural beauty and environmental sustenance of sea to shining sea was protected, where the arts and education and healthcare and the citizenry vote were rights endowed upon all, where those protecting the country – like my own sweet poppo – were cared for, where those-with helped those-without, where the citizens celebrated their own ancestral and immigrant heritage just as new immigrants were welcomed and embraced, where families, friends, neighbors, communities, the country strove to be unified – together – against disenfranchising or marginalizing others and placing them in harm’s way, where a collective moral conscience embodied decency, where unbridled, vile corruption did not reign supreme.
i was wrong.
this kind of utter shameful disappointment is only overshadowed by one thing:
but here – on the coast of lake michigan – with very specific circumstances – we are socked in with fog. it rolled in on cloudy waves. it lingers in the trees and hangs over the street. it brings with it a damp cold – much different than a couple miles inland. the lakefront is its own weather system.
it was a foggy morning, soupy and grey. we put on extra layers. we left to hike one of our favorite river trails. it was sunny there – so much so that we were shedding those extra layers of clothing.
and, then, on that same day in the early evening, we watched the advection fog stake claim to the neighborhood again, just as it had done that morning and for the past mornings.
all the same day.
and so we sat in the quiet of the fog as it surrounded us, our home, our ‘hood.
and, just as we didn’t know what the people in the sun were doing, neither did they know we were sitting in a blanket of dense fog.
we don’t know what we don’t know.
but isn’t it our job – as humans living in nation-wide community with each other – to seek knowledge of the other? of others’ circumstances?
are we culpable for an awareness of other-ness?
if i am on the lakefront and you are inland, do i care about you, do you care about me?
is there a line – somewhere between the lake and inland or in this country – that divides the needs of the people? is there a line – somewhere between the north and the south, the east and the west – that divides the needs of the people? is there a line – of race, of ethnicity, of orientation, of birth circumstance, social ladder-climbing, status, society’s trappings – that divides the needs of the people? is there a line – somewhere between the haves and the have-nots or the have-it-alls and the have-nothings – that divides the needs of the people?
where is compassion? a sense of decency? of humanity?
there is – apparently – no line that is too low for what is happening in this country now.
how is it that people – real people – mean so little to this administration?
and i think about those people – humans – who are cheering this on. i wonder how they have been seduced.
have they read the bills, the laws, the executive orders, the project, the intentions?
do they realize that this is decimating our country – the same country that is their country?
do they even give a second to wondering how all this cruelty, greed, destruction, moral corruption is “great”?
is their lack of concern because it does not directly impact them…yet? do they even know if it does?
is their state of great glee because it’s sunny where they are right now?
do they know that weather systems are not static, that they travel and affect communities at will, that it could be them next?
how can they linger in their cold dense fog – oblivious and unconcerned?
“may i be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful.” (mary oliver)
it was astounding. we were on a hike and heard a crack in the woods. we looked to our left – where the sound had come from – and watched a towering tree fall onto the forest floor. powerful. humbling. just stunning to witness.
naturally, we looked it up – is there meaning to being the sole persons witness to a tree falling in the woods?
in what would seem narrative written for the moment, these words: transformation, renewal, release, resilience, cycles of life, interconnectedness, impermanence.
we sat – later – on our deck – and talked about these words.
the experience of something so rare fell right in line with another experience we had this week. for the first time while hiking, we encountered a bobcat. the big cat was on the trail and watched as we approached. it didn’t take too long before it glided into the underbrush, over toward the river. but it left us just as stunned. such an elusive creature.
and…at a time when looking for meaning in what is going on around us seems so difficult…we wondered, is there any? we found that our very rare bobcat sighting was a reminder to acclimate to shifting circumstances, to embrace change, seize new opportunities, to thrive though all that is ever-unfolding.
now, that’s two stunning events in less than a week. i might say we are paying attention. we have been present to the rare; we pay homage.
so as we carry on here – doing the best we can to be tiny nails – to make a tiny difference, our theme song is one of adaptation. in variations on the theme we do what we can to seek new beginnings, to shore up our inner strength, to be useful, to be aware of the profound impermanence of it all.
we pass a certain house on our way to a favorite hiking trail. it is clearly a hoarding house. there is stuff everywhere and if the garage door is open – even just a bit – you can see that the hoarding continues in the garage – piles and piles of things and things and things. it’s creepy. and you can feel it as you pass by. you feel the suffocating feeling of too-much-stuff.
i once knew someone who was a hoarder. he was unable to transcend it and so his house had tiny pathways to move from one room to another. all the rest of the space was filled with books and magazines and newspapers. there were piles on every step leading to the second floor – so much so that there was no way – anymore – to get there. the second floor was essentially blocked off forever – or, at least, until someone might clean it all out. i found it disturbing to be at his house, smothered by high piles on every side of me and no place that was even near empty or calm or welcoming a sit-down. it only took one visit to convince me that i would never return. i could not breathe. there was no space.
in both of these cases – and in a farm out in the county that we’ve visited with a variation on the same theme – we were privy to – inside – a sickness of the person whose home was emitting hoarding frequencies.
THIS is how i feel about this country now. we are walking – all of us – inside the administration’s sickness. there are few places to breathe, few ways to sit down outside of the enveloping dismal cloud of narcissism and revenge and selfish cruelty. there is little calm; instead, chaos reigns.
is this what authoritarianism feels like? is this what an autocracy feels like? is this what fascism feels like?
they are hoarding away our country, with little access to its democracy, its freedoms, its decency, its humanity.
we need the junkman to come and clean it all out – toting enough dumpsters for all their project agenda – a nation-sized mr.clean to wipe it all down, trash the filthy intentions, clear a path with space and air and possibility.
we need recognize this for what it is – truly – and we need to transcend the sickness. or breathing will become impossible.
“and the seasons they go round and round/and the painted ponies go up and down/we’re captive on the carousel of time/we can’t return, we can only look behind/from where we came/and go round and round and round/in the circle game.” (the circle game – joni mitchell)
and then there was spring.
the grasses greened. the trees budded. the birds busied themselves with nests and babies. the lake answered the sky in pastels. and winter was over.
there was no fanfare for the spring, no good riddance for the winter. it just quietly morphed from one to the other.
as we walked along the shoreline of lake michigan, i couldn’t help but recall last spring. it was a different time. a very different time.
i looked back to a time when everything was not in disarray…when our nation was not perched on the precipice, ready to fall into authoritarianism. i breathed easier last year. i was not convinced that evil and cruelty were leading our country, taking it down to the depths of corruption, no compassion in sight. lives were not roiled in rifts; moral compasses were – at least a tad bit – more present.
i feel nostalgic. for last spring. regrets are funny like that. not really appreciating the spring of ’24 until we are in the spring of ’25.
and now, as we go round and round and up and down i wonder what’s in store. it is clear we can never go back – we can’t get there from here – to the same country we had. but we can look behind us and see from where we came. we can do whatever we can do – to resist the total demolition of democracy. we can step off the carousel and stand next to the painted ponies as they circle. we can choose a different pony.
we are captive to time moving on. but we are not captive to the carnival of this regime. we have work to do. like the perils of traveling roadshows, we need to shut it down. mechanical failures, operator error, structural issues, rider misbehavior and health risks are rampant.
it’s a simple concept: a community of people who support each other.
it should be every family, every friend-group, every organized community, every town, every city, every state, this nation.
we watch thru-hikers on videos. carl – in the middle of the hot desert section of his PCT thru-hike – was gifted a bottle of cold water. his words were write-down-worthy: “people are beautiful.”
like carl, thru-hikers criss-cross the country – and other countries – on long trails, carrying all they need in backpacks, stopping in towns to resupply, to eat prepared food, to rest. people come from all over to support these hikers, planting trail magic in their path, driving them from point a to point b, aiding them in whatever they need. there is never any hesitation. the community extends love and support to each other – no matter what.
anything less is missing the point.
to be human is have precious little time on this earth. that kind of mortality, that kind of flawed-ness, that kind of capability to love – makes one question why anyone would wish to be anything less than generous or kind. it makes one question why anyone would exclude anyone else, why inclusion of all humans is not paramount. it makes one question why anyone would be cruel to others, to populations of others. it makes one wonder why anyone would waste time and energy on agendas of hatred. it makes one question what in the hell is going on in the administration of this country and why so many people – humans – are ok with it.
the state of this country belies the definition, the very concept of humanity: the human race; human beings collectively/compassionate, sympathetic, or generous behavior or disposition – the quality of state of being humane/the totality of human beings: the human race.
it captured my attention – not only because it was visually interesting, but maybe also because it was the day after the hands-off protest we had attended.
the vine aggressively climbing up this tree reminded me of a snake – like a boa constrictor – winding, wrapping, attempting to suffocate its prey.
and that reminded me – merely a hop, skip and a jump away in my mind – of what is happening in this country right now.
we are being suffocated.
in the middle of the noise, the middle of the reeling, the middle of hideous stories, unthinkable images, the blah-blah-blah of the corrupt, walking in the sickness of this leadership, there is an insidious vine wrapping its way around the throat of democracy.
and – it is likely the quietest parts about which we should be most angst-ridden.
for while all the hoopla is going on, while we are participating in their shell-game, while there are too many fires to extinguish, they are deftly filling the gaps of what they are suffocating-to-death with the deranged and dangerous dreams of power and control.
and before we know it, the beautifully diverse american family tree that had stood so steadfastly in the forest will be overshadowed by the choking vine of autocracy, the darkness of fascism, stifling adversity. democracy uprooted and smothered.
as i pass by the vined tree in the woods – just off the narrow trail – i realize there is much to be done.
we must eradicate the vines, remove the roots and prevent regrowth – all while minimizing damage to the tree. and we must be vigilant, watching for any new vines that emerge from the dirt.
so many clay pots and assorted planters, i drew a sketch of them all and began to list what plants and herbs and flowers we wished to grow this summer, sorting plants to pots. and we began the dreamy conversation about stepping off the deck and snipping basil or parsley, making ann’s jalapeño poppers, gazing at colorful flowers scattered on deck’s edge or along our gardens of grasses.
we are not well-versed in plants. we are most-definitely not well-versed in growing things to eat. and we truly don’t know much about different annual flowers – so we depend on the tags at the nursery and research. a few days ago we were drawn to two tiny-bloom flowers, though we didn’t know anything about them. it was a heart thing.
last fall my sister-in-law sent me two peony roots. we carefully planted them – exactly as the directions stated – making sure that the “eyes” were facing up and the root wasn’t too deep into the soil. in the miracle that is spring, peony shoots have risen from the ground – and you would think we’ve given birth – our wonder, our level of excitement are off the charts. it is a joy to think of these new beauties – with gorgeous big white blooms – growing alongside two established peonies, many ornamental grasses, wild geranium, day lilies, hosta, and healthy weeds of many varieties.
we have much to learn…about all of it.
gardening, we see, is like the joys of being an artist. experimentation and not being able to determine an outcome ahead of time – both are important in the process. we give over to the mystery of it all. we know that it all is steeped in potential and we embrace it. it’s a giant responsibility – a gift of nurture we can give – to our artistry, to our garden.
it would be an easy segue to connect the dots of this kind of potential – this kind of responsibility – to the governing of this country. it would be easy to speak of the glorious mystery of our melting pot, the growth that is possible in the garden of humanity. it would be simple to believe that there should be wonder and great excitement in nurturing all the people of this country – whether or not they are different than those we know well – learning and growing together. it would be natural to depend on research and heart in moving forward all that we – in these United States – can be.
but no. i won’t go there. it all just seems so obvious.
a country – a first-world democracy exuding potential beyond belief.
why wouldn’t you tend that garden with great care and embracing respect and intelligent research and nurturing love?
why would you wish to crush or annihilate or suppress or obliterate all that potential?
like big red, it was an old truck – a pickup that has been around for awhile. in front of us driving down one of the main arteries in town, i was hoping that they would pull into the grocery store parking lot so that we could stop by their truck and tell them how much we liked their bumper stickers.
they kept going. so i never had the chance to tell them.
i feel like they don’t need to be told. they know. they know how important these gestures are – the reminder – in pride rainbow colors – that “equality hurts no one” and that we are all “human”. equality for all persons – regardless of gender identification, sexual orientation, race, ethnicity, nation of origin, religion, economic status. human – bones and flesh and organs and a heart and a brain. breathing in and out the same way, we are all human. well, maybe.
for the things we are witnessing these days – the cruelty and chaos – are most definitely subhuman, far below any expectation one would have for an administration that actually cares – read that again – cares – about its populace, cares for its populace.
today is cinco de mayo…a day to celebrate mexican culture and its rich heritage. though you may find yourself at the local watering hole having a margarita or donning a sombrero, it is a holiday more celebrated in the united states than in mexico. often misunderstood as mexico’s independence day, it is simply a local holiday in that country.
if you are having a margarita or some fish tacos or steak fajitas on this day i am hoping that you are also honoring the people of this country that runs along our southern border. courageous and hard-working, family-centered and wanting opportunity for a better, safer life – just like you or me – we must be careful to extend a helping hand, just as we would wish for in like circumstances.
if you have held a “mass deportation” sign in your hand or voted for someone who did i would ask you just exactly where your ancestors came from – for the vast majority of us, our family tree did not grow from seeds in the dirt of this country. our melting pot country’s origin is that of diversity – good grief! there’s THAT word!! we have all assimilated into this country, but we cannot forget that as humans – humans – we came from somewhere else.
it seems incumbent upon us as humans – humans – to be compassionate, to be benevolent, to be humanitarian. to buoy our fellow humans in the populace of this nation with intentions of equality and love.
i hope we see that old maroon truck around again one of these days. i just want to thank them for their tiny public statements, mustard seeds in a land where we – now, especially – need reminders and stewards of the potential for the growth of goodness.
pretty much every day he makes me a sandwich for lunch. guess that is going to have to stop. he also makes me breakfast – after he brings me early morning coffee. to my pillow. hmmm. now i wonder about that…
the other day i went on a deep dive into the womanosphere– to which i clearly do not belong.
it is an anti-feminism movement that aligns with the pro-natalist movement which aligns with grossly understated inequity and disenfranchising. the articles i read truly nauseated me. i had to stop and re-read paragraphs, struggling to believe the article was contemporaneous and not from some other era. “what the hell?!!!” i kept thinking.
every now and then i talk about my sweet momma – who, before she discovered jeans and keds in the 90s – wore lots of house dresses around home – the kind with snaps down the front and big pockets, in a (likely) floral (most definitely) pastel print. we’ll be on the treadmill and I’ll be joking with d that i need to stay on it for eons so that the only thing that fits won’t be house dresses, whereupon i describe my fantasy house dress to him and we both crack up, knowing i would never put on anything vaguely resembling a house dress.
but in this you-must-be-thin-sexy-fertile movement, you might want to cue up your bonnets and peasant dresses, because barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen is coming back.
oh, and don’t forget to be all soft and giddy – while being ultra-hot – and be sure to make your man a sandwich.
in a country where women have valiantly fought for the same rights as men, it is gross negligence to see the undercurrent that is rising: eliminating all forward movement, all empowering. submission and servitude, throwing out birth control, awarding monetary bonuses for babies, autocrat-founded motherhood medals for multiple children, minimizing personal and professional goals, perpetuating dangerous self-hatred for “less-than” bodies, colonizing those who either lack discernment or follow blindly the bright colors and shiny lights of these new influencers. omg. so entirely disempowering. so repulsive.
and so – here we are. this is america. it’s an “ive” land. but not progressive or affirmative or adaptive or inclusive or generative or sensitive or curative or supportive or collaborative or representative.
more like regressive, deceptive, manipulative, suppressive, repressive, abusive. divisive. degenerative. destructive. authoritative.
reverse threading 