john pavlovitz wrote, “if tens of millions of people get up every day and do a small something, that’s a pretty damn powerful something.”
his wise words suggested to “leverage your life where you are” and that we are each gifted with “the proximity to need and the agency to alleviate it“.
his wise words helped the paralysis that we were feeling.
in these times of extreme chaos, it is easy to be overwhelmed and we have felt that just like many around us. it helped to be reminded about the power – the moving of mountains – of leading with the intention of good, of choosing even simple acts of kindness. doing something.
tens of millions of people could get up every day and do nothing. tens of millions of people could be complicit with the state of the country. tens of millions of people could be cold-hearted, could not care, could place their own needs first and foremost and singular. tens of millions of people could look away from the chaos and the cruelty, the lawlessness and the devastation upon others in their community. astonishingly, tens of millions of people are doing just that.
but there are other tens of millions of people who believe in something different, who are showing up, who are cutting through the noise, who are helping, who are trying to make a difference, who feel the imperative to do something.
“positive cultural change today (as it has always been) is about leveraging your life where you are: by doing small, possible, measurable daily acts of decency, of protest, of advocacy, of collaboration.” (john pavlovitz)
the bumper sticker read: “kindness is an act of defiance.“
in a country with an administration that is leading the way on trying to make people believe that kindness is weakness and wokeness and various other nouns, being kind seems an infinitely easy way to push back.
i have been astounded to see people i know and love spew words of hatred aligning with this administration’s mounting display of cruelty. it would seem that they have plucked kindness and decency out of their hearts. it is my hope that this plucking is not permanent. it is my hope that a vigor – to help people, to collaborate with people, to share rights and freedoms with all, to advocate for those who are in need – will return at some point. but cold hearts become rigid quickly and their version of defiance seems to be complicity with the authoritarian vision.
and so we sit on the deck with dogga and talk about it all. we talk about our own plans. we ponder how we might make a difference, besides writing and writing and writing. we copy lists of things that are needed by local non-profits and organizations aiding people. we sort needs and wants and prioritize as responsibly as we can.
and we wander around the backyard, looking at the phenomenal growth of our herbs, the tropical-like burst from the flowers and the grasses and the sweet potato plants. we are grateful for this tiny place of earth that is ours. even in our own lack and thriftiness, we are grateful for our own abundance. in our own tiny yard, we snip basil for homemade pizza, cilantro for chili, parsley for red pesto, tiny cherry tomatoes and jalapeño peppers.
we cook, we clean out, we give away. we hike, we photograph, we write. we pay attention to little details. we try to find the small, possible, measurable ways to create culture change.
the rest of the subway car stared at us. we kept talking anyway.
back in the earlier days of my recording and performing – when a dear girlfriend and i used to travel together – we found ourselves all over the country, laughing. our escapades were hilarious – at least to us – and we readily shared our time on public transport with anyone nearby. we’d chat with the other people grasping onto the silver subway rings over the seats. we’d chat with the seat mate on the plane, once all holding hands together as the plane hit severe turbulence and – incredulously – even the flight attendants were weeping. we’d talk in the taxi, in the terminal, in the restroom. we seemed to be entirely capable of writing what-seemed a seinfeld episode everywhere we went. we were thoroughly entertained by – us – and it made all the travails of travel into adventure.
i’m a new yorker – a long islander – so talking – tawwwking – is not necessarily a problem for me. now i am a recovering interrupter (which i came by honestly) but back then…interrupting each other was part of the gig and it made us laugh even harder.
we’d step onto the subway – having gone through the turnstile with great aplomb or – more often – like something out of a cartoon – and immediately say “hi!” to whomever we encountered. sometimes people would answer as these were the very earliest days of cellphones so people were not staring into the palm of their hands. sometimes people would strike up a conversation – “you’re in town visiting, eh?” sometimes people would just stare. literally stare.
i carry these episodes with me even now. it is impossible for me to be on an elevator without saying anything; i simply cannot participate in the stare-at-the-slit-in-the-center-of-the-doors. or the up-stare at the numbers of the floor changing. “hi” just doesn’t seem to be a really challenging or aggressive kind of greeting. it just acknowledges that someone else – a person – is there. with you in the same space.
though i would not encourage the spray-painting of these boulders along the lakefront, the simple “hi” – in the middle of everything we are all reeling in, in the middle of this country – made me smile. an acknowledgment of someone else’s existence.
none of us are alone here. we’re in this together. we all count.
there are small house sparrows that make themselves at home under our awning. they perch and flit about and, every so often, attempt to start building a nest, from which they usually fly off after a bit. but they are clearly at home by our back door and we can see them through the window and across the deck as we sit on the raft and write.
as we entered the back door the other day – home from the market and with bags in our arms – i saw the feather, tucked into the old screen door. a sweet i-was-here…maybe a little we-are-all-in-this-universe-together symbol of reassurance, hope. this tiny grey feather – stuck on our back door – a tiny sign of encouragement, perhaps a nod of being watched over in distressing times. any way you look at it, we won’t remove the little feather,
distressing times. i’d say so.
from the smallest concentric circle in to the furthermost concentric circle, these are distressing times.
and, in the middle of reading tarana burke’s book unbound i read this sentence: “indeed, i don’t believe you can practice love and be in community with folks without an incorporation of accountability as an ethic and a practice.”
her book – all of it – was profoundly moving. she is the originator of the #metoo movement. her story resonated with me over and over again. accountability. accountability. i read and re-read it, this simple statement of ideology.
particularly in the context of this country as it is right this very minute, i stopped re-reading and snapped a photo of this sentence.
for there is not much more infuriating than to be in community with others who stress their transparency and, thus, following, their accountability to the others in the community but who are the least transparent and the least accountable. there is not much more infuriating than to see those who have wronged others – regardless of the community, the institution, the organization – big or small – get away with it, to take in those silently complicit, to watch the fallout, to bear witness to the lack of ethics indicative in letting others “get away with it”. there is not much more painful than being the victim of a lack of accountability, the dust – radioactive gossip, the decimation aimed and fired, the shock long-lived.
to practice love and to be in community would suggest holding each community member as important, as a cog in the wheel, as contributing, as morally obligated as the next.
to practice love and to be in community would suggest a set of expectations – rules, bylaws, laws, moral codes – that would reign supreme, guiding the steps and actions of the community.
to practice love and to be in community would suggest holding the fragility of love and its mutual obligation to each other as paramount. it would suggest leading with love, leading with respect, leading with support.
to practice love and to be in community would suggest holding to truth, to honesty, to responsibility and, thus, to accountability.
to practice love and to be in community would suggest that not taking responsibility, skipping any kind of ethical standard, having zero expectation that all in community would be accountable to each other and to the bigger picture would be the very antithesis of practicing love and being in community.
to be in community – in a freeforall devoid of moral compass – in a lack of answerability, no effort of liability, a structure without structure, without compassion or empathy, without the abiding of laws, sans checks and balances on the collective or those in charge, a governance with leadership lacking virtue – this is not a practice of love nor is it being in community. this is here and now.
grey feathers are said to be a sign that there will be a period of calmness and clarity. it is a buoying keep-on-going.
it will stay on the door as long as it stays on the door. and tarana burke’s words will echo in my mind as a north star message.
it was rafiki who said, “it is time.” in a pinnacle moment of the movie the lion king, mandrill rafiki – an insightful spiritual guide – discovers that simba, the lion, is still alive and declares that he must return to the pride lands and restore order and balance. simba’s life force – to defeat evil, overcome adversity, to perpetuate a legacy of the interconnectedness of life – the circle.
it is time. it is way past time.
order and balance, goodness and kindness. the concentric circles of connection.
yes. way past time. already.
in these moments – the anguish-filled, agonizing moments before the figurative return of simba – we might turn to others – next to us – near us – far away though connected with invisible filaments of love and care – and say, “i am glad for you.” the tiniest message.
in these times of so much uncertainty, so much angst and pain, so much loss and grief, so much frustration and anger, it would seem that uttering five words might be a powerful salve. thought it may not change the heinous circumstances of our current world, it will wash over the person upon whom we whisper – or shout – these words.
it may be in the post “i-am-glad-for-you” moments that one is able to – once again, tirelessly, with great courage – reach deep inside to pull up bootstraps of bravery and pushing-back, bootstraps of protest and protection, bootstraps of generosity and altruism, bootstraps of humanity.
i am glad for you.
so, be weird – extraordinarily heart-on-your-sleeve weird – and tell all those people for whom you are glad that you are glad for them. i can’t imagine that not feeling good in your soul and i can’t imagine a response that does not carry the extraordinary, raw power of this message forward.
it is time.
way past time.
*****
“i see you. you are beautiful. i am glad for you. i am glad you are here.” (michelle obama)
with a real feel of about 105 degrees, we gathered with thousands of others to watch our son perform at PRIDE FEST in chicago. the energy was electric and the set flew by, even in the midst of an insanely hot summer day.
northalsted is a landmark LGBTQ+ neighborhood, an ultra supportive community that offers undying love and non-profit medical and mental health resource assistance to its residents. we always feel welcome there; our son’s friends and complete strangers embrace us – just as we embrace them.
this year we took the train down and uber-ed over to the event. last year we had driven down and – between PRIDE and the cubs game at wrigley field- the traffic was unbelievable and took a couple hours longer than anticipated (not to mention the tornado on the way home when we tucked littlebabyscion right next to a brick building – a closed restaurant – after we had been literally lifted up off the ground by the winds.)
the show was fantastic. there is nothing like seeing your child in their bliss. and here was our son – an EDM artist – in his skin, in his element, in his community, in his neighborhood – doing what it is he is supposed to be doing and loving every second. there is no way i would miss that. there is no way i would miss any event for either of our children – our son or our daughter – that is an expression of themselves – given simply that we know what it is, when it is and where it is. it is the nature of parenthood. it is the privilege of being a parent. it is a choice and i will choose it every time.
i know that there are many parents – hell, many people in our country – who would not – even for a second – support any such effort as attending PRIDE or supporting – in any way – a child (young or grown) in the LGBTQ community. there are those who have – horrifyingly – excommunicated gay family members, who have turned their backs on their own. there are those whose actions have undermined this community, who wish to eliminate the rights of those in this community, who endanger this community with vitriolic uninformed rhetoric and undisguised hatred. it’s a sad statement of conditionality and it absolutely breaks my heart.
if we could show up for every one of the members of this community – at every one of their personal bliss-events or in their own life-affirming moments – we would.
because if we each stand in the middle of the grace of this universe, then we each should likewise stand in the middle of loving grace for each other. it’s not that hard. it’s not really hard at all.
and the choice to be actively-accepting, unconditionally-loving can’t be more important than it is right now.
we pulled up to the recycling tent to drop off the computer-type equipment we had – several old printers and associated cables and plugs. we had been looking forward to this event – an earth day event held locally – in order to continue the purge of stuff, but in the most environmentally-friendly ways.
there were a few people in the tent waiting to help and we really appreciated their work volunteering. they immediately moved forward to our vehicle to help us unload.
i got back into littlebabyscion and glanced over through my fully-open window to repeat our thanks. that’s when i saw one guy glaring at littlebabyscion and saying something to someone next to him. the focus of his gaze was undeniable.
i decided instantly.
“looking at our wheels, eh?” i addressed the guy.
he looked at me, surprised to be caught in the moment, “uhhh….yeah.”
“well, they may not be fancy but this little xb has faithfully driven 280,000 miles,” i bragged.
he stammered. “wow, that’s really cool,” he managed.
“yup,” i said. and then, pretty emphatically, “you can’t judge a book by its cover!”
i’m hoping he felt a little bit sheepish after we drove away. it is not likely, but i still hope he did.
now, to be fair, littlebabyscion’s wheels are the stuff of grimace-potential. the outer layer of aluminum alloy is both peeling and rusting – but, hey, so are we – after a few hundred thousand miles. we have plans to take a steel brush to these wheels – on a non-windy day – to clean them up a bit, make them less shoddy-looking, but it hasn’t been a top priority. glimmering, shiny wheels are not as important as some other tasks or chores, so babyscion’s rims just need to get in line. besides, LBS had really shiny rims back in the day – almost 300,000 miles ago. heck, even 100,000 miles ago there was still a bit of sheen. shiny is part of who LBS has been. so, i, for one, am not going to judge this absolutely amazing little vehicle for a bit of wear or a few wrinkles in the middle of dedicated and extended mechanical life. LBS has a really good heart.
we are relatively used to just being us – in a world of people trying to be more. we are artists, remember.
and so, we are people who have walked this walk – the one of being the book judged by the cover. we have also repurposed with fervor, made-do with less, driven with not-so-perfect rims. and we stick to the be-you mantra. we are not going to participate in the judging of books by their covers. we are going to seek heart. no matter the difference, no matter the sameness – we believe that being you – the best and most filled-with-goodness you – is all you can or should be. and we are here to lift you up in that. we are not going to grimace or glare or make snide comments at you in your pursuit of goodness. our job – as humans – with kindness and generosity and acceptance and grace our north stars – is to be us and to let you be you.
hopefully hearts are more important to you than shiny rims.
we came upon the bird while walking on the waterfront a town south in illinois. because it didn’t fly away as we approached, we became concerned. i knelt down in front of it – not touching it – to see if it was hurt. and then – because it is the thing to do – i google-imaged it.
this tiny bird was a starling. a juvenile. even likely, a fledgling. this darling little bird just stood its ground, tentatively trusting us, shifting its position, turning around, spreading its wings, tweeting silently with its beak. but nothing seemed wrong and our research pointed to a tired little bird learning to fly just stoking up a little energy. so we walked on, knowing that we would check on it just a bit later to see if it had flown off. we also knew that if it hadn’t – if it was still on the boardwalk – we would carefully take it to a bird sanctuary. we worried aloud during the rest of our walk until we got back to the same spot and the little starling had flown off.
it’s not really all that hard to love. because, well, love is love – as the saying goes.
it’s not really all that hard to care about peoples’ well-being – even if you don’t know them – to care about creatures’ well-being – even if they are wild – to care about the world’s well-being – even if you have not seen much of it. because love is love.
i am reminded – time and again – of the poem prayer written by belleruth naparstek:
“just give me this: a rinsing out, a cleansing free of all my smaller striving so i can be the class act god intended, true to my purpose, all my energy aligned behind my deepest intention.
and just this: a quieting down, a clearing away of internal ruckus, so i can hear the huge stillness in my heart, and feel how i pulse with all creation, part and parcel of your great singing ocean.
and this too: a willingness to notice and forgive the myriad times i fall short, forgetting who i really am, what i really belong to.
so i can start over, fresh and clean, like sweet sheets billowing in the summer sun, my heart pierced with gratitude.”
“the powerful, loving bonds formed between individuals who are not biologically related but who choose to be family…highlighting the strength of these non-traditional family units and the unconditional love they provide.”(the trevor project)
so, dna ain’t everything.
i, for one, have found it personally shocking at times to be related to my similar-dna-stranded relatives. particularly now. for one – incorrectly – assumes that one is aligned with those in one’s family – with values and love and respect leading the way. this, however, is not always true. and – shockingly – families, like friends or colleagues, are quite capable of throwing others under the bus. shocking, indeed.
so we seek those who support us, who support our world view, who challenge and push, who protect, who encourage others to be their best and most authentic self.
in this – incredibly the 21st century – with a twisted administration – we are faced with making decisions of estrangement – boundary setting that is squarely focused on the upholding of each other and our rights and freedoms. it is impossible to pretend to be “family” if members have chosen to undermine the rights and freedoms of other members. dna schmee-n-a.
a week ago we spent the weekend attending milwaukee pride events at which our EDM artist son performed. his friends welcomed us with hugs and dancing and conversation. we were embraced and felt the love. i cannot imagine why anyone would reject or endanger such a community – LGBTQIA – so inclusive of all. it is incomprehensible.
one of his friends came up to us while we were dancing and drew us close in to talk above the music. “if i had parents like you, i’d have everything,” he said into our ears. i cried as he walked away.
my grown children have a wonderful father. they have a generous-of-spirit stepmom who cares about them. they have me. and they have david, who has been supportive in every way that a caring father can be. they are every much his children in this last decade. we all share them and join together as the circle of one-generation-previous people around them who want them to be their best and most authentic selves. isn’t that what parenthood is? they are just lucky enough to share dna with two of the four of us. but we are all their parents.
these are days of non-traditional. we are fortunate to live in these days – days of wisdom and cultivated illumination – when love is simply love and the bonds of family extend beyond ancestry lines. i can only hope that we all celebrate each other – in our differences and in our sameness. we can seek family with bonds based on unconditional love and support. if we can look at our biological families and freely choose each other, we are lucky. if our own families endanger others or refuse to see or value them, it is incumbent upon us to draw lines in the sand. this life keeps ticking. it would seem infinite love – acceptance, inclusion, belonging – would be the way to live these tiny lives we get.
be the people whom others choose. “chosen families have helped queer people survive and experience radical love and joy at a time when their rights, and in some cases their very lives, are threatened.” (alex welch)
radical love and joy. life is too short for anything else.
no matter how many fresnels, how many gels, how many follow spots, how many tracks, how much confetti, how many bubbles, how many furries – it does not match the energy in the giant pavilion as it built through their performance.
our son and his musical EDM duo partner aced their set – their music setting the heartbeat – and, from a new vantage point in the middle of the crowd, it was sheer joy to watch.
PRIDE milwaukee was a celebration of freedom – freedom to respectfully love whomever you choose to love. there is nothing like being embraced and encouraged by a festival-sized crowd to be whoever you are. it’s like there was a mash-up of the words of cher’s “believe” and marlo thomas’ “free to be” ringing in my ears. empowering. tolerance.
and i stood in the middle of all of these thousands of people – all just being who they are, all dancing and laughing and hugging and feeling in their skin – wondering how anyone can reject acceptance, how anyone can squelch love and draw parameters, how anyone can vote against LGBTQ rights and freedoms, how anyone can wish to instill fear in a community, how anyone can righteously think they are above others.
i was proud to be at PRIDE.
one of our son’s friends said, “you are such supportive parents.”. i thought to myself – wow – that’s redundancy at its best – “supportive” and “parents”. aren’t they one and the same?
yes, i was proud to be at PRIDE.
on saturday night, surrounded by thousands of others, i danced with my hands to the sky, grateful to be here in this community of people loving people, granting each other the freedom to be, grateful to choose to be a mom who was there.
and then, the reality of right-now crept in.
and i thought about the peril part. the danger of this precipice between democratic freedom and autocratic elimination of rights, of silencing LGBTQ, of the denial of acceptance and empowerment and support.
and i thought of the deplorable act of voting for this abhorrent administration – against family members or friends or people in one’s own community.
i thought about ALL the cruel policies, sweeping up and discarding in the name of xenophobia and racism, banning rights, freedoms, hotlines to help, books, HIV/AIDS resources in the name of homophobia, gleefully destroying healthcare, food security, assistance in the name of oligarch wealth. it’s sickening.
“there’s a land that i see/where the children are free/and i say it ain’t far to this land from where we are/take my hand, come with me/where the children are free/come with me, take my hand, and we’ll live
in a land where the river runs free/in a land through the green country/in a land to a shining see/and you and me are free to be/you and me
every boy in this land grows to be his own man/in this land, every girl grows to be her own woman/take my hand, come with me/where the children are free/come with me, take my hand, and we’ll run
to a land where the river runs free/to a land through the green country/to a land to a shining sea/to a land where the horses run free/to a land where the children are free
and you and me are free to be/and you and me are free to be/and you are me are free to be you and me” (1972…free to be…you and me – stephen lawrence/bruce hart)
and, astonished at the speed at which evil takes over, i wondered: where did this land go?
reverse threading 