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.
we venture out of the mind-boggling absorption of what’s really happening out there every now and then. and sit in the sun. or browse plants and flowers at the nursery. or take to the trail. or pet the dogga.
because we all need a break from it at some point, this devastation that wracks our hearts…just a few tiny moments away from thinking about it.
the rest of life is going on. people are working and sleeping, having babies and leaving this earth, healing and fighting disease with all their might, doing real life. right smack in the middle of horrific – – real life.
and sometimes that is enough.
really.
enough.
the rest of all of it is just too much.
“…well, everybody’s heart needs a holiday some time…”
there are 6186 photos on my phone that – in some shape or form – are photos of the sky. there are 2400 that are of clouds. i’m pretty sure there’s some overlap there. but that is a lot of photos looking up.
with yet another storm watch in the state – on an unusually warm late april night – we sat out on the deck with 20 watching the sky. i took pictures. it felt like a summer night – minus the mosquitos – and we adirondack-chair-sat for quite a while, intermittent conversation and laughter punctuating the quiet.
as i’ve previously written about, we pay attention to storm watches and warnings. we use our weather app to track the arriving front systems, to watch the hourly forecast. we depend on it to make good decisions for our safety.
i remember a roadtrip – crossing through the state of wyoming – trying to outrun a giant dark greenish sky that seemed to be chasing after us. littlebabyscion has never zipped along as fast as it did that day. i remember d carrying dogga downstairs to the basement, with supplies and important papers, all while the tornado siren was sounding outside. i remember – way back in the day – laying in a ditch in the middle of rural illinois somewhere while vacationing at my big brother’s, his vehicle parked on the grassy shoulder of the county road on which we had been driving. i remember – not too long ago – just last june – sitting in littlebabyscion literally tucked up against a brick restaurant after-hours as we tried to evade the tornadic wind that had lifted us up off the open parking lot.
each time we made efforts – to use caution, to think-it-through, to be reasonably safe – and we took action. each time survival was the end goal. the storms of climate change are becoming apocalyptic – severe, with devastating consequences. we do our best to be knowledgeable, alerted, constructive.
the gale force winds of corruption are whirling around us. we must use caution, must think-it-through, must be reasonably safe, must take action. survival is the end goal. the collapsing of democracy is apocalyptic — severe, with devastating consequences.
in these days we are waking very early. our old dogga is hungry, maybe a little stiff, needing to get up and get us moving. and so we do. we open blinds and let the sun rise through our windows. we sit with our coffee against pillows in a bed we have now lowered closer to the floor for dogga. we listen to the birds and our pond gurgling. it is quiet. really quite exquisite.
we wake to the beautiful barebones of this universe – and sit in appreciation, silent as we listen and absorb the dawn of this next day. we are both very, very aware of this gift of time, this gift of stillness. we revel in the simplest of things for it is the simplest of things with which we surround ourselves; our budget is squishy-tight and we try our best to abide by the premise of ‘less is more’.
and it is in those moments – the moments of rays across our quilt, coffee in our hands, dogga at our feet – the moments of listening – that i can’t understand.
i can’t understand how anyone – particularly any person in any influential position of leadership – can wake up in the morning with evil-agendized intent in their heart. i can’t understand the superficiality of wanting-it-all, needing-it-all, having-it-all. i can’t grok the indecency of plotting against persons, peoples, missions, goodness.
i wonder how it is that one can wake so conversely differently, full of dreadful scheming. i wonder how it is that those people are of the same humankind. i wonder what twisted them, what broke their connection to morality, what tore the silken filaments of the recognition of unconditional beauty from them. what maelstrom enveloped their souls and trapped them in an eddy of cruelty.
we sit on the deck and look to the sky through the mixup of branches above us to the north. dogga lays nearby and the sun is sinking lower, the dusk sky an ombré canvas.
and – like many of you, i suppose – i still can’t understand. and it still doesn’t feel real.
but it is. and there are those – waking up yesterday, today, and – with nothing stopping them – likely, tomorrow – the textures of our woven universe unimportant, their own needs driving corrupt obsessions of power and control, their view of the world – this country – dark, their actions ruthless and cavalier, each of them impervious to the exquisite.
and the barebones of the universe sigh deeply, grief spilling into the technicolored chiaroscuro sky of dawn, the ink of dusk.
every time i turn a shampoo bottle over and empty the remains into a new shampoo bottle – each upside-down tap of the bottle, drawing the last vestiges of shampoo to the top, makes me think of her.
every bird in the backyard, every endcrust of bread, every leftover dinner, every time i do laundry or make lists, merry morning sunshine.
every time we use the wire cheese slicer, every time i pass by the snake plant, every time i tend our houseplants, every time i thank someone who has generously served us in some way.
every time i see a dachshund or a hosta, every time i think of Long Island, every time i write in my calendar, every area rug on a wood floor, sweet potatoes, math.
every time i make do, every time i save something for ‘special’, every time i turn a few specific phrases or use a coupon, collect rocks or driftwood, every time i make – or have – french fries or iced tea.
every time i see liverwurst or have rye toast, catch the aroma of roast beef in an oven or see a jar of ragu sauce.
when i see beets, when i have onion dip, when I devour crumb cake or chips ahoy, when i coffee-sit, when i repurpose things, when i think about baked ziti or darning socks.
when i defend how to pronounce “sauna”, when i see the “sisu” sign in my studio, spiral notebooks and scrap copies, when i hear “wowee!”, when i stood at the edge of the grand canyon.
every time. i think of my sweet momma. and I wonder how it is possible that she left this world ten years ago today. ten. ten years without her. ten years of not being able to pick up the phone and call her. ten years without mom hugs. ten years without a mom who would listen to any story i told her – any number of times i told it – knowing that my biggest fan was this woman, who was ahead of her time in so many ways.
i wonder how she is feeling now about the turn of all she left behind. i wonder if she has that certain stink eye she’d get, wishing to admonish this country’s current leaders and those following in lock-step. i wonder if the public deflection and distraction of some – avoiding the truth of their choice, avoiding taking responsibility for that choice, literally cheerleading this horror, loudly or silently – i wonder if seeing all that makes her crazy. knowing my momma – and her humanitarian and political leanings – i’m fairly certain she is pretty “irked” – as she would say. she is likely fired up and giving someone a piece of her mind somewhere on the other side. as high-road as she was (and, probably, is) she is not one to put up with the destruction of the country for which she and my dad sacrificed.
and so, every time i speak up or speak out i think of her. every time i voice absolute protection of the rights of members of my family. every time i express horror for the dismantling of this democracy and the cruel disenfranchising of people of the populace. every time i see another nail skewering women. every time i read about the dumbing-down, the elimination of history, the blunting of truth, the big-time grift. every time i stand up for what she taught me about kindness to people. every time. i think of her.
and every time i see the print “live life, my sweet potato” i think of her. and i miss her. yet again.
i owe my love of math to my sweet momma and two amazing math teachers in junior high and high school (woody and bill).
so to look up in the sky and see ‘pi’ made me laugh aloud. of course i sent a photo to both of my kiddos with the caption “so is this what they mean by pi in the sky?” – to which neither responded a peep. oh well. i thought it was pretty funny – in a corny kind of way.
it did, however, make me think of all things pi-in-the-sky, er…pie-in-the-sky.
pi (3.14…) is a constant. it never changes. it is the ratio of the circumference of a circle to its diameter. it is used in many equations and – from the time you learn it – is a number you just never forget.
yeah, kind of like the constitution or the declaration of independence. once you learn about them, you never forget.
well, most people never forget.
well, some people never forget.
anyway, here we are – in the middle of a constitutional crisis – with the declaration of independence mouth-open-silently-screaming relevancies at us – and my pie-in-the-sky is that it will all just stop – with a happy hallmark ending where all rifts fade and all fighting ceases and people just love one another and live in peace and harmony and respectful, compassionate democracy for the rest of all time.
pretty pie-in-the-sky-ish, eh?
a dear old friend sent me a youtube video of the song beautiful city(from godspell):
“out of the ruins and rubble/out of the smoke/out of our night of struggle/can we see a ray of hope?/one pale thin ray reaching for the day… we can build a beautiful city/yes, we can/we can build a beautiful city/not a city of angels/but we can build a city of men/we may not reach the ending/but we can start/slowly but truly mending/brick by brick/heart by heart/now, maybe now/we start learning how/…when your trust is all but shattered/when your faith is all but killed/you can give up bitter and battered/or you can slowly start to build!…”(stephen schwartz)
i am hoping against hope that this is not pie-in-the-sky. that a chance remains for this country to rebuild – to stop this madness – to stop the evil and cruel extremism that is taking over – to stop authoritarianism – to stop the ruining of this democracy.
pi in the sky above me, i couldn’t resist taking a photograph.
i couldn’t resist sending it as my picture-of-the-day.
and i couldn’t resist hoping – at least for a little bit – for some pie-in-the-sky.
truth seems to have taken a leave of absence from this country, no longer useful or appropriate or agenda-aiding for the current administration. instead, we – as a populace – are being fed smarmy falsehoods and all manner of fabricated bull in the name of “truth”.
the ability to manipulate any story, any image, any narrative, any situation, any anything is on the exponential rise. it is hard to discern what is real and what isn’t, what communication we receive or read is real and what isn’t, what images we see are real and what aren’t.
which makes it ever more important to delve into something before jumping whole-hog into believing it.
case in point – the biggest inaugural crowd.
case in point – everything re covid, including bleach and this: “just stay calm. it will go away.”
case in point – winning the 2020 election.
case in point – the peace-loving tourists in the capitol on january 6.
case in point – “they’re eating the dogs. they’re eating the cats.”
and on and on and on and on and on, ad nauseam.
despicable.
and that’s all old news, old old news, old old old news. nothing like the news of the day: stuff made up to validate chaotic, cruel moves by the administration to accomplish hellish corruption.
the ease in which they manipulate you, your hook-line-and-sinker dedication is their frenzied rapture. truly. (it is ridiculously hard not to use bluntly profane language to make this point.)
if you are believing – without bothering to check – what this prez and his team o’ teams are spewing, you are as wrapped up in his sickness as he is. delusion is a powerful contagion and a profound addiction.
like i said, i hardly know where to start.
be a good citizen. look it all up. double-check. have a conscience. save the democracy.
reverse threading 