cosmos. this incredible flower is a cosmos. it is flawlessly beautiful.
each time we have passed these in the ‘hood i have stopped and just stared – their whimsical look is enchanting. i have said – more than once – that we should consider potting this and enjoying it ourselves. i’ve been thinking maybe one of these hot days we will go to the garden center and see about it.
and then i read that cosmos flowers “symbolize order, harmony, balance, peace and tranquility” which moved the needle from ‘maybe’ to ‘definitely’ because we sure could use some order, harmony, balance, peace and tranquility.
matter of fact, it wouldn’t hurt to have the cosmos as the new national flower (now that the rose garden – and its roses – are destroyed in vulgar favor of cement and patio umbrellas).
gifting cosmos to others – is, apparently, a gesture of deep appreciation, conveying the message, “your presence brings peace to my life“. i can’t imagine how much it might mean to our allies around the world if we gave them all cosmos and stood behind that message.
clearly an idealist.
marc-in-high-school used to accuse me of being the rainbows/bubbles/sunrise girl and i suppose he was – is? – right.
but what if?
what if order and harmony and balance and peace and tranquility were valued more than money? more than power? more than control? more than carrying an elite attitude of ethnocentrism? of supremacy? of nationalism? of xenophobia? of privilege?
what if we could all live under this great big sun, this great big universe, with love for one another in our hearts, with care and concern and compassion and an unwillingness to caste – or cast away, for that matter – anyone?
what if?
reading further i see that cosmos are also widely seen as symbols of resilience and healing.
wow. damned if i can think of a better flower for right now.
purple has been her favorite color for as long as i can remember. so every single time i come upon a purple flower i think of her. this time – this downy wood mint – was no different.
i don’t always send a picture or a message that says i’m thinking about you but maybe i should.
because in these days i’m realizing that people really need that. people really need to hear that you are thinking about them, sending them good wishes, holding them close at that moment. because these are not normal times.
we are sticking closer to home, closer to our dogga. we don’t want to miss any moments with him, don’t want to not be there if he needs us. it’s not too much to ask from a beautiful being who has loved us unconditionally from the first. and so we hang out at home, out on the deck, on the patio.
sometimes we go to the store to resupply and sometimes we go for a hike. we ask 20 for help when we have to be gone a little longer, to stop in and keep an eye on dogga.
we won’t be going on vacation – away – this summer. it’s just not the right time for that. our priority needs to be this amazing pooch who has stood by us in every moment.
and so we tend our little garden – herbs and vegetables and flowers. we make suntea on the deck and move our adirondack chairs from sun to shade and back again. we are grateful for the littlest things – the house sparrows taking dirtbaths in the holes our dogga digs. the squirrels scampering across the wire and down the spruce to get a sip of water at the birdbath. the intermittent hummingbirds at the feeder, the cardinals on barney munching on birdseed, the baby raccoon trilling from the maples behind us. nothing extraordinarily exciting, but it all feeds our souls on this daisy path.
and – as we chat – planning or reminiscing – we pick up our phones every now and then and let someone know we are thinking of them. at that very moment. knowing how good – how reassured – it makes US feel, we try to do the same.
i could get lost in just gazing at this spot where greens converge. i find myself breathing deeply, taking it in, appreciating how utterly extraordinary the nuance, how textural, how life-affirming.
it has been a week. with multi-layered challenges, personal and nationwide.
in the middle of the week, neck spasms – which i had in february for the first time in my life – and which sent me to the emergency room – returned with a vengeance. to say that i was laying awake all night, fearful of the way these manifested in my shoulders, my jaw, my chest, my neck, would be an understatement. it was downright scary. and so painful – even for someone with a relatively high pain threshold.
when it finally slightly eased up for a bit in the morning – after a long, sleepless night – i was exhausted and overcome with how it must be for people who are in chronic pain. the chronic pain of disease, of life-altering treatment plans, of hunger and thirst and of not-enough, of homelessness, of psychological and emotional scars, of addiction, of deep, all-consuming worry. thinking of others always puts one’s own pain in perspective.
for a bit of time – the bit when the spasms did not refer to all these other parts of my upper body – i could breathe more deeply. and so i went outside to our deck and little potting stand – to look at new growth, to soak in the colors green.
in wednesday’s news there was much headlining about a quiet interview that the speaker of the house had on a tiny radio station in his home state. and, in that interview, he revealed the intention of this administration – to fix (read: gut) medicaid, medicare and social security in an effort to free up money so that this government might be able to make a dent in the country’s trillions of dollars of debt which is – clearly – attributed to mountains of tax cuts for the ultra-wealthy.
so. their goal? take away from the most vulnerable and the eldest in order to further bankroll the gluttony.
it is hard to wrap your head around this kind of whoring of humanity. the word “disgusted” barely touches it.
again, i say, there is no reverence. they have reverence for nothing.
i wonder what our communities, our states, our nation, our world will look like once they have eliminated all that is good, all that is natural, all that is lawful, all that is compassionate, all that is life-giving or life-affirming. what will be left after the land and the natural resources and the regular folk and the goodness are decimated?
as i stood and looked at our tiny vegetable and herb garden, i was filled by the beauty, wrapped in the essence of green, and a sense of balance was restored in me.
though the spasms started up again, this is not about my neck spasms. when they re-started, i felt slightly more equipped to deal with them, carrying into the pain the knowledge that they would – in time – ease up.
but for some, there is no easing up. there is only long-term pain, without ceasing.
there are people intentionally hunted down for their ethnicity, people intentionally taken off rolls for food assistance, medical assistance, housing assistance. people removed from jobs of science and education and journalism so that the country ceases progressive forward-movement and so that the only narrative going forth is vile, self-serving propaganda. there are people targeted by the brandishing of bigotry. there are people whose chronic pain – no matter what it is – no matter the umbrella under which it falls – seem a nuisance to this administration, an administration without a heart or a conscience or any sense of reverence for anything other than self and money and retribution.
were i to be given a choice – live acknowledging simplicities – like the nuance of green OR live inside the insanity of always-wanting-needing-hoarding of moremoremore – i would go with cherishing the tomato plants and herbs and lavender and licorice plant every time.
i would go with the convergence of green, the convergence of goodness, the convergence of growth, the nuance of breath, the affirmation of life, living and reverence for it all.
it isn’t hard to clean and fill the birdbath so that the birds in the area can count on a drink of fresh, clean water.
it isn’t hard to clean and fill the birdfeeders – or the hummingbird feeder – or the oriole feeder – so that, if necessary, the birds in the area can count on accessible, clean food.
it isn’t hard to sweep the driveway and clear off the seedshells on the top of barney so that the birds in the area aren’t sickened by wet, moldy seed or bits of bread that have become sodden and mildewed.
it just isn’t hard.
but neither is it hard to be concerned – to wrap your heart around – those people in our country who are hungry, who do not have enough food, enough clean water, who are suffering from hunger-related or poor food issues.
yet, the government of this country – the administration that is gluttonous even beyond our imagination – has eliminated millions of dollars funding yet another source of food for the hungry, for the downtrodden, those who can ill afford food yet face peril without it.
i am truly sick of it.
what is so hard about this?
ours is a government in charge of a large country filled with people of phenomenal potential – yet they are limiting the most basic element of need for those very people – so that they might fund a garish ballroom and its associated bunker, an ill-intentioned war and its apparently-coveted weapons of mass destruction, vanity projects, payola to criminals pardoned by a narcissistic hand, wildly expansive tax cuts for the wealthiest, crude corruption never before witnessed on such a cavalier, widescale plane, the slicing and dicing of healthcare, education, global health, medical research, climate change programs that actually help people, mass deportation sans conscience, and the elimination of lawful rights of people who fall under the machete of bigotry.
but, you say, what about the people…how does this government view the everyday, everysingleperson people?
we can’t wait for this evening. we will drive the backroads with hundreds of thousands of others in wisconsin – all out on a friday night.
we can’t wait for this evening. we will join with fifty-thousand others in milwaukee attending one of the three days of PRIDEFEST.
we can’t wait for this evening. we will be with the tens of thousands wandering the summerfest grounds for the friday evening shows.
we can’t wait for this evening. we will stand in the dance pavilion – out in front, in the house, or backstage – either place – with over five thousand other people in that same pavilion and gathered all around its edges – and we will watch our son perform.
we can’t wait for this evening. we will have the moment of his first downbeat, the moment he raises his hands in the air, the joy on his face under spotlights and between pyrotechnic fountains of sparkling stars and confetti releases. we will likely be standing and dancing and cheering with a group of his friends, a group of deric’s friends – deric who shares the stage with craig as they perform together as EDM artists DOGGPOUND.
we can’t wait for this evening. we will hug him after his performance, ecstatic with him on this day, on this journey. our own pride will be bursting and he will absolutely know it. just as he has absolutely known – since the very moment he came out – that he is loved and – with-no-exceptions – completely accepted, embraced and supported.
we can’t wait for this evening. we’ll watch him and a large contingency of friends and fans as they all go on their way, celebrating peaceful coexistence at this celebratory festival. we will walk around, buy rainbow trinkets, happily ensconced and feeling a sense of belonging.
we can’t wait for this evening when we drive home on those same backroads and talk about the night. we will be exhausted and exhilarated. we will be thrilled to have spent such amazing time with our son – we will be looking forward to the next.
and then, we can’t wait for chicago’s PRIDEFEST when we’ll take the train down and spend an afternoon and evening in the streets of boystown. we’ll stand with the setting sun on our faces and – again – watch our son perform. there will be many hugs – his friends will surround us and make us feel at home. and at the end of that day, getting back on the train, we will again feel exhausted and exhilarated, both. we will sit back and talk about the day and the people – the people – all of whom are there to just simply honor each other and their very important place in the world – peacefully together.
we can’t wait for a day when all the world is a continual pridefest, when all the world honors each other’s place in the world, when all the world feels that kind of love for one another, when all the world lives in peace.
the snow on the mountain groundcover creeps under the fence. it tries to take over the ornamental grasses, winds its way around our peonies, fills in spaces we didn’t necessarily need filled in. it’s invasive dressed in pretty. it has even given the wild geranium a run for its money. fortunately, the geranium – particularly under barney – has survived the overbearing groundcover and its sweet pink flowers are getting ready to bloom now.
i saw a post the other day that was a gut-punch. the words on the post read: “it’s illegal to feed wildlife at national parks because they get dependent on handouts and forget how to survive. it kinda sounds familiar, doesn’t it?‘ the photograph with the post was depicting minority moms and children in line with shopping bags and grocery pushcarts.
it literally made me ill. because it was posted by a neighbor with a comment that read, “hmmmm.” just despicable. and downright hard to believe that there are people who really feel that way. haughty. sickening. overbearing. uncaring. bigoted.
creepy and invasive.
that kind of bullshit post enrages me. it’s unconscionable. the hatred is just exhausting. how dare he/they be so righteous, so pompous, so entitled? with clearly no heart at all – no empathy – no love-one-another in their soul, no we-are-our-brother’s/sister’s-keeper. the judgment and demeaning attitude.
i could go on.
but i won’t.
because i am hoping that most of us in this country will be like the intrepid wild geranium. that we will bloom despite the invasive stuff that purports to be pretty.
that we will be able to spread goodness and kindness and compassion.
that we can possibly be the nation we were destined to become in a world that needs the caring interdependence of all people.
that we aren’t dreadful people who believe despicable things and then share those extreme racist views with the world, hoping for “likes”.
snow on the mountain is “incredibly invasive and will spread indefinitely if not restrained.”
*****
sorry about the language. but sometimes it fits. 🤷♀️
“hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.” (langston hughes)
we wandered arm in arm around the fairgrounds, one antique booth to the next. it was good to be outside on this day, a little cooler than the surprisingly hot day before. we weren’t looking for anything, really. just idea-gathering, noting how people were re-purposing items, laughing over things folks were selling as antiques that we still use every day.
a big armoire got our attention and we walked over to it. the young vendor gave us a few minutes with it before he approached.
within minutes of our first question about the armoire, he had begun telling us of the life-struggle he was in, seemingly desperate to share it, to voice it, to maybe bring a different kind of energy to it.
we listened. i was aware we were both getting uncomfortable a couple minutes in, but both of us could also see he needed to tell his story. and so we listened.
when he was done – except for staccato-ing out another detail here or there – we talked about how life will go on, how light will return, how everything will be ok. he became less intense then and smiled, saying he was already better off since the initial traumatic moments.
this young man has sat on our hearts since then. and so has the lesson we were reminded of – to listen.
in those moments we have all had – when we are broken-winged birds – we have sometimes had someone, somewhere, who has given us hope. someone who has lifted us. someone who gives us perspective. someone who nudges us to remember our own value. someone who reminds us of joy. and of dreams.
someone who tenderly repaired our wings so that we could fly.
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?
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.
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.
reverse threading 