if you purport to be a weed – and only a weed – growing helter-skelter- invading lawns and gardens everywhere – then it is likely that people will see you – perceive you – as a weed.
if, instead, you believe you are vital early-spring nourishment for pollinators, recognized as a nutrient-dense food source, then it is likely that people will see you – perceive you – as beneficial.
it is all in what you believe about yourself and – here’s the tricky part – what you actually do about what you say you believe.
and why is that tricky? you ask.
i’m pretty sure you have stumbled across the vast hypocrisy – out there – that rears its ugly head from grandiose and magnanimous mission statements of organizations and institutions – even the current government (you don’t say!). these places that purport to be about, say, one thing or another – to stand for something.
i’m pretty sure you have been gut-punched – at some time – by the sheer hypocrisy that you have seen – that exists when push actually comes to shove – when the rubber actually meets the road – when the chips are down – at the moment of truth – that stubbornly squelches any culpability for what-they-say-they-believe – that atones in words but not in deeds. ohmygoodness, it is too prevalent to count, to even begin to depict.
human rights, the lgbtq community, racial divisions, birthplace bigotry, gender discrimination in the workplace, sexual abuse survivorship, places that foster accountability – the list of possibilities goes on and on. and yes, the hypocrisy goes on and on.
it all begs the question – what do you really believe?
and isn’t that just incredibly sad?
because how hard would it be to state what you believe in and then be what you believe in so that the statement “we are what we believe” would be a truth, a consistency in your business/organization/institution, something positive, life-affirming?
i guess the fact of the matter – in the end – is that just because you say you are what you believe doesn’t make you what you believe.
you have to live what you say you believe in order to be what you say you believe.
a few yesterdays ago we were at the apple store, asking questions, learning, dreaming, stoking up on what new technology is “out there”, what we might eventually need to replace my no-longer-with-us hand-me-down 2008 crashed computer, this 2014 mini ipad, etc etc etc.
in a remarkable three hours or so – that we stood and talked to mike and then nate – we jogged our braincells into grokking new information, new terms, new device potentials and we entertained dancing with visions of artistic sugarplums. it was a joyous time, filled with others teaching us, punctuated by laughter.
toward the end of our visit at the store, a couple – a bit older than us – walked in. both were dressed to the nines (in direct comparison to our ripped jeans, flannel shirts and hiking sandals).
the woman walked over to the table with ipads and pointed to one as an-even-older-than-them-and-us saleswoman looked on. she asked what it was. the evenolder saleswoman – let’s just call her “dreamdasher” – immediately said this while body-guiding her away from the very tablet that was inviting in the customer: “ohhh. that’s verrrrrry expensive. it’s fancy. it’s an ipad proooo. it’s for proFESSionals.”
i was taken aback and stared at them. since we were just across the table from this debacle – about three feet away – i said aloud, “did you just hear that? what on earth was THAT??” our nate – who we have now adopted because he was young, bright, informative, told great stories, was pretty adorable with great hair and tolerated our three hours worth of information-gathering – said, “everyone has their own approach, i guess.”
i continued to rant – about assumptions, about dashing someone’s dreams, about ageism (which was funny because the salesperson was perhaps older than the customer!), about did-i-mention assumptions. who was to say that the customer wasn’t a professional? who was to say that the customer didn’t have goals to be a professional? who was to say that the customer wasn’t buying for someone else? i was flabbergasted that a woman (dreamdasher) would be so rude to a woman (dreamingperson). it is truly amazing that i did not walk over to dreamdasher and quietly ask her where her generosity went, how she could just dis-count dreamingperson’s curiosity and possible purchase, how she could – in the instants since that couple had walked in – put them in the tire-kicker category and body-guide them down the row of ipads to a lower level of tablet.
i went on and on in big red for a while too. it did not sit well with me.
because we were there to dream, to imagine. we did not look the part of people who could slap down some cash and purchase the row freaking row of tablets. we were clearly behind the eight ball on device capability and terminology. and yet nate – and mike – were generous and careful teachers, on point with what we described as possibilities, lifting us – and our visions – up, not trouncing on them.
wow.
still a little miffed, as you can see.
as human beings – particularly in a time when our very country seems to want to drown every floating dream – isn’t it our obligation to lift others up, to not make unfounded and discriminatory assumptions, to be kind? isn’t it our responsibility to feed others’ creativity, to encourage and bolster their life goals as much as we can, to hope for the best for each other? is it not in our nature to wish to elevate other humans, to boost them up, to animate their dreams, to delight in ambitions and initiatives of goodness? to make a difference in the lives of others – no matter their fortune? to say “i believe in you”? to be light in the dark?
the wood anemone is a “spring ephemeral“. the plant “dies back to the ground by mid-summer“. there is not a lot of time to be as delicately beautiful as anemone is.
so the anemone put on a fine show in their months of prime, the only months their performance is open. they waste no time fussing around, angsting over the circumstance of their sprouting – their place of origin, no time arranging every single thing to their benefit so as to live a grand life in the months of their lives.
instead, they shine. they grow – in community with every other plant and fungi, in and amongst the trees, fallen logs and dried leaves. they unfurl their five or six petals, their leaf whorl fragile, trembling in the breezes – this “wind flower” is standing vigil for spring.
they make the best of it.
and when their turn is done – when it is time for their last bow, their last quake in the wind, their petals slowly dropping one by one, their stamen no longer sheltering seed, their stalks withering with the sun – they quietly take leave and return to the ground to wait – for next spring.
anemone don’t wonder about their ascendancy, their import, their legacy. they do what it is they are here to do – providing early season nectar for pollinators, preventing erosion by retaining soil moisture.
their herald of spring, their succumb to summer’s hot sun – part of the greater plan. their job fits right in symbiotically with the rest. they do not abdicate to other wildflowers what is theirs to do; neither do they overreach, trouncing all the other wildflowers in their midst.
they are what adults should be. adult humans, that is.
there are days. and on those days – even in spring’s wild-child inconsistency – we sit on the deck and look to the sky. because i have had the good fortune of thirty-seven years of that very view, it does what it needs to do…it soothes and centers and takes everything down a notch.
because what glenn kirschner said in early april is right: “if you’re not jaded, you’re not paying attention.” the barrage of … stuff … going on in this country is truly unbelievable…the corruption rampant and ignored, the racism, xenophobia, misogyny, the hatred, discrimination and blatant disregard of the rule of law, the gross manipulation of control by the narcissistic administration, the grift in plain sight, the absolute apathy toward the populace and real-life-living….the list seems neverending, the country barreling into some kind of hellish, dystopian landscape of gluttony-first. yuck.
so we sit on the deck and look to the sky. and these very familiar trees – this particular well-loved quartet – slowly shift from winter to spring and, eventually, soon, summer. and i can feel the color green absorbed into me – life – living – breathing.
and so, for a few minutes we don’t talk about it all. we just sit, quietly.
but fran lebowitz is also right: “…[ ] allows people to express their racism and bigotry in a way that they haven’t been able to in quite a while and they really love him for that. it’s a shocking thing to realize people love their hatred more than they care about their own actual lives.”
and we know those people. they are in our families. they are in our friend groups. our workplaces. our communities. it is devastating, truly heart-breaking. and every single time i allow myself to think about the immense loss – the fact that this very administration – the same one that touts propagandized rhetoric of “family values” – has caused schisms of exponential size – rifts that will never be healed – in the families and communities of the very people they are supposed to be serving – it makes me feel ill. gut-punched kind of ill. sad beyond sad.
there will be many more days of sitting on the deck – at the end of days – particularly some days – when we will just look up – at these trees – at the sky.
and though there will be no answers coming from the sky, it will help.
white flowers in the forest. with delicate petals – like the wood anemone – or the three sweeping waxy petals of the great white trillium – these white flowers dotting the underbrush of the woods are stunning, really beautiful. these seemingly fragile white blooms in and amongst a landscape not quite green, a landscape still rummaging around, waiting for spring’s full chorus.
we stop sometimes – just to take it all in – past ourselves, our thoughts, our conversation, our footsteps on the dirt. it gives us pause and slows our breathing.
the landscape design is immaculate – perfection. downed trees, leaves naturally composting, the canopy towns of mayapples bursting up through the ground, enchanting purple phlox, flowering pear trees. it is a slice of heaven.
in these days – when mosteverysinglething we read in the news makes us despondent, it seems that we must balance out our equilibrium a bit. for us, as you already know, that is the trail. the dirt paths in our area help us thrive as we all live in the shade of the current political chaos and the wreckage of our democracy. tiny bits of dappled light get through, but the challenge is to still keep going, despite the vast amount of dark.
white trillium prefers shade. these exquisite blooms find their home to be best in part or full shade. they are slow-growing, but long-lived – a combination that seems to push back against threatening negative influences, that rises out of deep winter, that sustains despite the odds, that shines in beauty. trillium live in colonies, interdependent on all the shrubs, trees, composting soil, insects, bacteria and fungi around it. its brilliant star shines alongside those it shares space with, symbiotically life-sharing companions.
pause for thought. yes. it gives us pause for thought.
it’s sunday morning as i write this. with our coffee and the sunrise, we started our morning watching an rei video called “the life we have”, an intensely moving documentary that follows rob shaver, the subtitle of which reads, “mortality, movement and the richness of being alive.” too big.
by the end we were both crying. tears streaming down our faces. sniffly noses. the tightness in your chest when you are trying hard not to just out and out sob.
and then we just sat – holding tightly onto each other under our quilt and comforters – cold morning air coming in the window, sun streaming in the other side. we were quiet.
we stirred from our stillness. x’ed out of that youtube. and stared at the screen that presented many, many options of other videos to watch, most of which had something to do with the current administration – which – in absolutely no way at all – could ever begin to demonstrate the respect for life that this video we had just viewed did. seeing the faces of those involved in this vileness made me sick to my stomach – again. the juxtaposition was well beyond striking. it was monumental.
we sat in wisconsin’s oldest operating theatre – the 1915 downer in milwaukee – the scent of popcorn wafting everywhere. it was our first time to this theatre, but i daresay not our last.
we were there to see the documentary GASLIT, a movie – directed by katie camosy -shining the light on how the pervertedly-swollen oil and gas industry “impacts the land, air, water and human lives.” it is practically too big to write about.
jane fonda – one of the producers as well as activist and narrator – says, “it’s about injustice, pollution, and the destruction of entire communities.” the destruction and profiteering by those hoarding big-money – the gluttonous – is unconscionable. we were so sickened – so outraged – when the movie was over we couldn’t move for minutes. out of body, feeling like we were living in surreal times, we struggled our way out of the theatre and walked down the street, catching our breath, trying – again – not to cry.
sacrifice zones are areas of this country – the united states of america – where big money has decided that the people, the town, their homes – all of it – are worthy of being sacrificed. big money – like this current administration cheerleading for more fossil fuels, eliminating clean energy projects, drilling, drilling, drilling and decimating natural lands – including parklands – has decided that they can decide where people – PEOPLE – are not worth it…are disposable…that they can be sacrificed in order to benefit the extraction and production of dirty carcinogenic fuels and petrochemicals. toxic communities, cancer alleys, not fit for habitation, everything that is alive affected. they are disgracefully and deliberately created. activists describe these places as “the wrong complexion for protection”. what in the absolute hell?! this is the united states of america and this is a priority of its current administration…one of many revolting atrocities in their sick cauldron of intention. it is sinister wickedness.
we backed away from the youtube panel of choices this morning. the faces of such self-consumed, twisted corruption were just too much for us.
i spun the outer band of the fidget spinner ring we got at peacetree. it brought me back to the words of rob shaver, the life of a man who is just trying to live: “it’s literally just a choice daily. to live deeply and thoroughly and with beautiful effort. not for results, not for money or fame or lifestyle, but for the richness of being alive.”
that there is what the current leadership of this country – this place that purports to care about the life, liberty and pursuit of happiness of all its people – every last freaking person – will never ever get.
ever.
and yet, that leadership – lacking the wisdom that gratitude for sheer life bestows upon those who choose to be grateful – dares to decide who can be sacrificed.
we don’t have a tv antenna anymore. this is our westneighbors’. we have the good fortune of being able to see the birds who choose it as a place to land, a place to rest, a place to view all that which is below them. though i understand that the tv antenna is “coming back” (much like paisley bell bottoms – which i, clearly, should have kept through the years…though the idea of those still fitting makes me grimace and roll my eyes and woops…i am off-trail, bushwhacking my way through my brain back to topic…..)
so…my point…tv antennas are coming back – though it is not necessarily in this form but more in the form of a powerful window leaf or indoor device or lower-profile rooftop doohickey, no longer a towering metal structure, more horizontal now than vertical.
nevertheless, there are many tall tv antennas in our neighborhood – simply because they were already there.
when ours fell down we were fortunate it did no harm and we had a tree guy come and clean it all up. at the time we were subscribed to the smallest cable package and, since then, we have considered cutting that as well. it is, after all, a wifi world these days.
when we take walks in our ‘hood we pass a few houses with solar panels. not as many as might be in a neighborhood with newer houses, but i suspect, as people choose to install a new roof, they might also install solar. in these days of high energy cost, it only makes sense. solar power, wind power, hydropower, geothermal power…all amazing, clean, responsible options for a planet struggling to support so many more people,
which clearly brings me – in this dot-to-dot brain of mine – once again – to the abhorrent devastation this administration is making of renewable energy in this country. the unparalleled gluttony of those in power now is absolutely decimating what is good for our planet earth. but they totally don’t care. and neither do those who continue to support this pathetic and backward set of so-called policies. there is no culpability for the environment; there is only money to be made. it’s disgusting. more on that tomorrow.
and so, the mourning dove sits on our westneighbor’s tv antenna, looking around, resting. the dove has no idea of what flies through my brain as i appreciate its perch on the roof. it has no idea of how admiring i am of its ability to be zen-like and coo in all circumstances. it has no idea how much peace it brings me – to just simply watch it sit on an old tv antenna.
for reasons we will not elaborate on, we are writing these blogs ahead. and, in true fashion of the times we are living in, there are zillions of things that have happened or are happening between now – as i write this – and now – as you read this. in the chaos in which we now exist, it is impossible to stay afloat of all of it…
because we care about the littlest creatures around us, we have several surfaces we line with birdseed, in addition to our birdfeeder. barney, the upright piano in our backyard, is one of them. another is our potting stand, these pieces of barnwood that stretch beyond our deck, sitting on metal piping, waiting for planting season when it will sport our basil and jalapeño, dill and chives, rosemary and cherry tomatoes.
our birdies love dining on these flat surfaces and gather together on the piano or the stand or off to the side, waiting their turn. the squirrels are zealous about these flat surfaces, as the birdfeeder gives them a tiny run for their money, a small challenge that is, however, most definitely not insurmountable. either way, they fill up to run off and provide food to the others.
we try to keep these surfaces with food, replenishing them to help these little creatures, particularly through the winter. we want them to feel abundance, not lack.
because helping others – people or creatures – to feel abundance seems like goodness, kindness, the right thing. and, in a world where we all unintentionally do things that are right and things that are wrong, it is a good thing to intentionally do some right things.
last week the administration of this country declared in unconscionable screeds that he was going to obliterate an entire civilization. that he was going to make them live in hell. there were moments – after that particular weekend of his screed – that i could not breathe.
in a really stunning opening to his show the night that the administration decided on a two week reprieve before reconsidering his big obliteration, lawrence o’donnell called it what it really was – an obliteration of OUR nation – THIS place – every ideal for which we have EVER stood. i could not agree more.
we sometimes intentionally do things that are wrong – start an argument, go over the speed limit, fail to put recycling in the correct bin. we sometimes unintentionally do things that are wrong – step on someone’s foot, push the grocery cart into the back of someone’s ankle, cuss in the wrong situation, cough suddenly without covering our mouth. most of these things are presumably forgivable, solved by apologies or decisions not to do it again. sometimes there are wrongs that are bigger, that require grace, true humility, olive leaf amends.
we sometimes intentionally do things that are right – give a bigger tip than recommended, donate money or food or other staples to a person, an organization, a pantry, help our neighbors, friends, family without being asked, pick up trash on the trail, listen when someone needs a listener. sometimes there are rights that are bigger, that are stunningly altruistic, that set examples.
we wish those around us to feel that we are generous in those things – the right things – that we hold abundant love and care for those around us.
we watched the rescued hearts film. it is an incredibly moving piece about the heart that horses hold in space with humans. with abundant love, these big, beautiful creatures reach across any boundary of language to extend love – in heart-opening abundance. these horses are catalysts for healing. it is not a film about control – it is a film about connection. it is a film about transformation. it is a film about sheer potentiality of what we – with all of nature – can provide each other.
this film is the antithesis of the threat of obliteration. it is not about lack. it is the epitome of abundance.
the rescued hearts film and this squirrel on our potting stand also make me catch my breath. because goodness is all around us.
and how anyone could not choose goodness over the worst cruelty is beyond me.
we have two sets of flatware. forks, cake forks, knives, teaspoons and tablespoons, i (and we) have purchased neither set.
the first set has been with me since my very first apartment. my grandmother, mama dear, gave me this set – subsets of it were incentive gifts for deposits into a local bank on long island – so mama dear made enough deposits for a whole set. it moved with me everywhere i have moved since that first apartment. i added wooden-handled steak knives to it – also incentives from a company – and, later, baby spoons and forks, but i never replaced the flatware set.
when my sweet momma died, her flatware – the stainless steel stuff not her silver – became mine. it was familiar to the touch and welcomed, particularly since many pieces of the first-apartment-floral-pattern had gone missing through the years.
so now we have two sets. sort of. there are pieces missing from both. maybe someday we will purchase a whole new set together. we’ll see. it doesn’t feel like a high priority.
in going through basement bins, i’ve found various other pieces of flatware. there’s a spoon thingy with a place to hold tea leaves, a couple of ladles, silver demitasse spoons with a gold wash from finland, vintage souvenir spoons from florida. we haven’t used any of these spoons or other utensils, though it might be nice to include a piece or two in everyday life.
momma had a box just like the one in this photograph – it was red mahogany in color. it was felt-lined and all the silverware fit neatly into slots or into the shallow drawer underneath. we used the silverware on christmas, on easter, on special occasions. but not every day.
sometimes i think that if i were the current owner of her silver i would consider using it every day. i mean, it’s flatware – designed for use, not for saving or just hoarding with other memorable valuables.
it would seem that my sweet momma would smile from that other dimension if she saw people eating mac and cheese or eggs and potatoes or spaghetti or fried rice with her treasured silver/silver-plated forks.
because, after the fact, i’m sure she realized that saving it for good – and you wonder where i got that from??? – is really silly. indeed, i feel like i would hear her as i stood – hesitant – near the wooden silver chest – insisting, “it’s a fork! it’s just a fork!”
in these days of what seems like peril for this world, i’m thinking i would open up that silver chest and pull out the forks, knives, spoons, all the utensil thingies in there. i’d serve them up with homemade pizza or tomato soup or pasta sauce or tikka masala or whatever.
though i don’t have the silver chest or the silver, i do have the lesson.
now, instead of small dollar-store bowls holding our happy-hour snack-time snacks alongside individual-sized select-a-size paper towels, i pull out the cut-glass vessels, the fenton hobnail serving dish, the small china plates, the cloth napkins.
under the quilt, getting ready to tune out current events, domestic and global news, opinions dedicated to either side of the chaos, we cursor-ed the play button on mike wandersfor a stunning video of him out west – a trip about which he literally oozed awe and gratitude. we were ready to no longer have eyes on what was happening in the world. it is all exhausting.
and then we heard it.
the distinct metal clinking sound of the birdfeeder outside our open window. too late for any of our birdies and definitely not helter-skelter enough to be a squirrel attempting to push down the little plate that releases deliveries of seed.
d turned on the back light so we could look out the window.
and there – quite happy for the extra lighting – was this raccoon, happily at what-would-seem our vending machine, designed just for him. standing and tapping the plate and then devouring, tapping the plate, devouring, tapping, devouring. we laughed at him – even with the window opened – and he just continued his munchfest sans interruption, maybe even happy for an audience.
we are not cranky about him eating our birdseed. this feeder holds a lot of seed and we know we will replenish it for the birds again.
instead, we delighted in the antics of this very cute raccoon. a bit later – without knowing we had seen him in our driveway, our dear westneighbors texted us with a picture of him sleeping on the peak of our garage roof, his full belly making him a bit tuckered out, i guess. he is doing his part as an ecosystem generalist.
i’m not sure what else raccoons do in the world – other than eat. though I’m guessing he may think the same about all of us. what we don’t know we don’t know.
it occurs to me – that at the crux of it all – making sure that all creatures – and, even more specifically, all people – having enough to eat should be paramount. to sustain life, to carry on with enough energy for all life’s tasks – the most basic of needs – we should be absolutely committed to the doctrine of keeping people fed any and every where.
and yet, here we are. eliminating nationwide emergency food assistance, snap and wic in our own country, eliminating food aid to the international sphere by usaid and the world food program. the rhetoric and propaganda around eliminating support of these humanitarian efforts are demeaning and literally beg vulgar responses.
what the hell are we doing here?
starving people is despicable policy. particularly when you are personally pocketing grift that could feed the poor, provide education and healthcare, take care of the populace and then some.
in the case of this – the very absence of compassion – the lack of soul of this administration – this shaw quote should instead read: “there is no sincerer love than the love of self.”
shameful beyond belief.
i imagine that now that our raccoon knows where to find it, he will be back for a snack tonight. we will be glad to hear him outside our window.
