and just last week or the week before, i put the j away.
when you are from long island “oy” is not an uncommon response – to many things. it can span the spectrum from light-hearted to the intense, though, in reaction to the intense, you would be less likely to use the derivative and more likely to use the whole saying – oy vey!
surprise, dismay, grief, frustration, distress. all of it.
it seems like it was a particularly prescient moment for the j to fall and the oy to stand firm.
who am i to question gravity and the wisdom of corrugated galvanized metal?
when you write a blog every-day-every-day you are opening your stream of consciousness up to anyone who cares to read it. we have no preconceived notions of our blogs – they are simply a practice of artistry – of writing – one medium through which we might express ourselves.
i would suppose – as i scroll back through blogtime – that these might appear somewhat – well – scattered. because we haven’t opted for a blog that is entirely about one thing – unless you count that they are about living life – we traverse all over the place.
sometimes, they are about creating – through music or paint – and sometimes they are about the tiniest of moments lived. sometimes they are absolute rants about inequalities or the disenfranchising of people or those in high positions pushing other people under the proverbial bus. they are not the entirety of life but they are schnibbles of our lives, our experiences, our thoughts, our worries, our successes or deep disappointments. sometimes one of us – in our individual blog – is off the rails and sometimes it’s the other. sometimes we write and erase the whole thing. sometimes it is all just too much to share. facing vulnerability is alive and well in this sort of thing.
so as you ride the coaster with us – if you are choosing to ride it – know that we are not lingering in one place or the other. like you, we are surfing the full spectrum – end point to end point. we are sorting and wondering and asking questions and trying to do the best we can at getting through while being sure to relish every good thing we see or feel or experience.
we’d love to be all rainbows and bubbles and sunrises – as i was accused of by my dear friend marc all through high school – but living isn’t just all that. and sometimes, people need to hear that they are not alone in what they feel or in how they are struggling. i know we do.
and so, our blogs ride the tide – a virtual tidal wave – of emotion that is life these days. we’d love to know that we have made you smile. we’d also love to know we somehow made you weep.
when my cds were being sold on the television shopping network qvc, i received a note from a stranger. she told me that her dad had passed and that when she went to his home in texas to sit and write his memorial service, she wandered about, looking for clues about his last days so that she might include them in the service. she found three cds in his CD player – all three of them mine. she played them for his service and told me that i was on the journey of his last days on earth. it was humbling and gratifying to read her words and to know that the ripples – those incessant concentric circles of all manners – i sent out in my recordings had wrapped around someone and, perhaps, comforted them.
even in the worst of moments, in the worst of writing, in the darkest of blogs, i wonder if someone out there is nodding their head, glad to know they aren’t the only one feeling what they feel. i also wonder if someone is out there growling. both.
a long time ago i was told that as an artist it’s not my job to determine what happens in the out there – it’s just my job to put it out there.
in this new year – a tidal roller coaster promising to be of giant proportion – let’s hold hands and know we aren’t alone in the roll.
“in the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan. earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone. snow had fallen, snow on snow. snow on snow. in the bleak midwinter, long ago.” (in the bleak midwinter – gustav holst, christina rossetti)
it is rare now for us to read the news. we are not watching it on any screen nor listening to it. it is bleak, iron-fisted, filled with stone-cold hearts.
but…even now…somewhere, deep in the winter – now darker and colder – now more barren and bleak, is spring.
john o’donohue wrote, “within the grip of winter, it is almost impossible to imagine the spring.”
in the same blessing he also wrote, “from the black heart of winter a miraculous, breathing plenitude of color emerges. … the rhythm of emergence is a gradual slow beat always inching its way forward…”
our wish for each other…that we find in our heartbeat, light. and that we bring that light to another.
and the grip of winter will not hold.
“the cold is relenting; seeds are wakening up. colors are beginning to imagine how they will return…”
“i will not win all of my battles, and neither will you. but if we do our best with intelligence, compassion and love, that will be enough – it has to be enough. and that way, though each outcome may not be what we wanted or hoped for, at least each day we can be proud of who we are.” (elizabeth glaser)
with intelligence. with compassion. with love.
this made me cry. i was going through framed pieces that had had spots in various places of our house or back-in-the-day at my label offices. and these words – instantly stopped me in my tracks.
for these were the very things lacking in what-ended-up the winning campaign of this election. intelligence. compassion. love. and i find that devastating.
i saw a meme the other day. it read: i will be proud all my life that i voted for kamala.
and i will.
because the other thing – the other choice – the magachoice – the one where “he got you to stop trusting the media, scientists, legal and judicial systems, federal agencies, military leadership, economists, educational institutions, our closest allies” et al – leaving “the only person you trust is him“* – that choice…was without intelligence, without compassion and without love.
instead, it zeroed in on people’s internal rage, giving it permission by example. it exploited their lack of knowledge, their lack of curiosity or questioning. it perpetuated the maniacal glee of revenge and retribution. it made a farce out of the legal system of checks and balances, a limitless low bar on integrity for the highest position(s) in the nation. it made self-serving a positive trait. it exclamation-pointed prejudice and marginalization. it underlined and bolded all the worst qualities of humanity and it brought it all to the surface. without hesitation, people jumped onto the hatewagon, pistols drawn, flying flags and banners of “greatness”, bleeding out any semblance of intelligence, compassion or love.
and here we are.
and i wonder how you – who voted for him and for all the cruelty and hardship and extremist notions and fascist intentions and every thing vile of which he reeks – are proud of that.
and so…it made me cry.
and – better than i could have said this, a brief video (x-out top right, turn on audio bottom right). thank you to matt and for his courage to say it aloud:
i pledge allegiance to the flag of the united states of america. and to the republic for which it stands – one nation, under god, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. (pledge of allegiance)
…and justice for all…
uh-huh. yup. fer sure.
(snarky – though truthful – alert for what follows…and…if you are running low on snark tolerance, I understand. these times are difficult and it is overwhelming to be surrounded by so much hypocrisy, so much that is truly unthinkable. i am merely one more voice out here, expressing outrage, hoping against hope that the voterswhovotedforthis might be capable of hearing and – more importantly, though clearly belated – of listening. and that the voterswhovotedagainstthis might feel less alone in their own outrage.)
in case you hadn’t already read this – in numerous other posts i have written – i was raped. i am a survivor. i have been a survivor for over four decades. i have carried it with me throughout my adult life. though i spent most of that time in silence, it has affected me physically and emotionally, psychologically, professionally, and financially. it has touched every corner of my life. it is both profound and a profound change agent in one’s life.
my rapist was a predator who expertly groomed and preyed on young women, older women, underage women, virgins, innocent targets. my rapist also “successfully” raped other women. my rapist was not charged. my rapist walks in the world – free – even today.
and – clearly – my rapist could be president.
because – fact of the matter is – here we are…poised to have an adjudicated rapist as the president – a man also convicted of 34 felonies among numerous other indictments and allegations, but golly gee, why would we even mention or consider those petty little details?
and so, i have some questions for you, ye who have voted for this, er, person.
where is the justice?
did you know when you voted? did you not care when you voted?
did it feel ok to vote in a rapist, a convicted felon?
is this the person you wish your father, your husband, your son, your grandson, your brother look up to, emulate? is this the person you wish your mother, your wife, your daughter, your granddaughter, your sister look up to?
would you leave your daughter alone with him? your granddaughter? your mom? your sister? your auntie, your niece? would you leave your tiny child alone with him? would you trust him to keep his hands to himself and his pants zipped?
what is the deal?
or – and this possibility sickens me beyond the disgust i am already feeling – did you have some sort of sadistic vicarious fantasy voting him in – a man laden with cruelty, revenge, evil intentions – some arsonist lurking in you wishing to watch the fire?
i saw this meme:
“we could have shown our daughters that they could do anything.
instead, we showed our sons that they can rape, cheat, and lie and still become the most powerful man in the country.”
if you don’t find that inordinately disturbing as a parent (you know, the whole i want the best for my child; i want to protect my child thing), as a woman (you know, the women supporting women’s rights thing), as a human being (you know, the whole moral compass thing) – if that bit of injustice doesn’t get your goat – if the utter lack of and-justice-for-all doesn’t take your liberty-breath away – i don’t know what will.
the stable – way back when – had a whole bunch of horses, stall upon stall in a long barn.
but i remember four.
buck and hercules and mardigras and lucky.
buck was a, well, buckskin-colored horse. he was kind of elderly, perfect for new riders. i imagine that in his heyday he was quite the looker – tan with black forelegs, a black mane. he was gentle and slow-moving, predictable and sweet.
hercules was a palomino. a smaller horse with spirit and a real love of people, hercules was a favorite and could be counted on for a good ride, wherever and however you might adventure together.
mardigras was a stunner. a big black horse, highly spirited and capable, he was my favorite. he loved to canter and gallop, and he jumped with ease, graceful and fluid. he was a horse who could go the long haul, trail rides of miles, paddock-training for hours, show jumping with the best of them.
and then there was lucky. lucky was a bay. he had attitude – but not the i’ll-cooperate-with-you-let’s-go-for-a-ride-together kind of attitude. his was an impatient i-want-what-i-want-no-matter-what kind of mindset, i-do-what-i-want behavior. he had a dubious reputation. no one was entirely thrilled with drawing the ride-lucky straw. but there were days that was the straw you pulled.
i was assigned lucky on a trail ride. we saddled up in the paddock and rode past the barn. we rode nose-tail-nose-tail, following each other up into the woods. as taught, i held the reins in my hands, concentrating on good posture and the messages i was sending my horse. i leaned over under his mane and hugged him, speaking quietly to him, trusting we were working together. in retrospect, i’m pretty sure he smirked at my innocence, curling his lip back and thumbs-upping his true nature.
once we were way up in the woods and had ridden for some time, it was the moment we turned back toward the barn.
lucky tossed his head and whinnied loud. every other horse looked at him, surprised at how noisy he was.
and then he took off.
no one had warned me that – at any moment – lucky – undeterred, unconstrained – would likely take his head, that he would show no mercy. on this first trail ride with him, i was shocked and scared at his out-of-control.
he ran – down the trail – not caring if branches were thrashing at me, not caring if i were jostled around, not caring – at all – if i were still on his back. by the time we neared the paddocks, my young, strong body was exhausted from merely holding on. we got to the barn and he reared up on his hind legs, throwing me off to land hard in the dirt. he swaggered off, uncaring, heading for the feed troughs.
my instructor immediately got me up on another horse, handing me the reins, encouraging me to ride more, getting me past the trauma.
there were other lessons, other trail rides, horse shows after that.
but even at nine years old, i knew better than to ride lucky, knew better than to trust lucky. his base desires had overrun all his kind-horse-ness, all his he-knows-better. his willfulness had overrun all his goodness.
lucky had taken me for a ride once. i wasn’t going to allow it again. there were other choices, other horses to ride.
“there is nothing to be learned from the second kick of a mule.” (mark twain)
those of you whose base rage overran your decency, who voted for the sneering, contemptuous no-mercy agenda of maga-land, where did the nine-year-old in you disappear to? how is it possible this mule kicked you a second time??
we are truly – like mika brzezinski said – ” counting down to the election of America’s life.”
if there are no alarm bells going off in your head, you have not been paying attention, you have not read the intentions of the maga party, you have sloughed off the reprehensible words of the maga candidate.
if you are not trembling as you think about the outcome of this election, you have not elicited any part of your good conscience, your moral center, the part of you that cares about this country or its inhabitants. you, instead, have bought into hatred and violence. you have abdicated your character, your integrity to the abhorrent character of this maga leader. and, if i knew you before, i don’t know you now.
if you don’t feel like sobbing thinking about the darkness that could come with the maga intentions of the maga candidate, his cronies, project 2025, every single mean-spirited, depraved, cruel, sadistic undermining of rights, freedoms, opportunity, you have closed off your heart. you clearly don’t care what happens to the people of this country – of which you are one.
i am stunned we are here, at this nightmarish moment in the history of the united states. it feels surreal to even try and wrap my head around the unconscionable, ghoulish possibility that we – free americans – could find ourselves in a fascist regime under the authoritarian rule of this unscrupulous maga candidate and his drooling-for-power contemptible sycophants.
in an understatement of understatements, the words “not bad” on the sticker on the railing at this bryce canyon overlook made me laugh aloud.
for this was grandeur, indeed.
the expansive country in front of us – here at our very first overlook – rainbow point, the highest elevation of the stops.
the national park brochure describes it as poetry in stone and i would agree. it is a dynamic place, ever-changing, engaging beyond the pale. you cannot help your heart soaring, your pulse racing. it is every word and no words.
we were thrilled. to be there. to be there all together. to experience this inspiring place.
the brochure promised mesmerizing. the canyon land did not fall short.
“happiness is….happiness is….happiness is…different things to different people. that’s what happiness is.” (ray conniff)
i can’t use these glasses – gifted to us – without hearing that song. our tonic and lime makes it happen every time. I don’t fight it. i succumb to it – humming or bursting into song – at least inside my head.
nine years ago the monday of this week was the start. everyone was on their way – sometime during that week. we entertained at our old house each night – and everyone present came for dinners we prepared with an entourage of kitchen helpers. it was a barn raising in every good way.
by the time we actually got married – at the end of the week – we were pretty darn tired. but happiness? it was abundant.
every now and then there is a moment, a snag, a who-are-you-and-what-are-you-doing-here. we all have them. but, in the way of moments, they are momentary. and if i give myself space to think about the passage of time and everything that has brought us to the puny moment, to allow in perspective, i am able to process, to rejuvenate out of puny, back to happiness. ok….not an immediate bouncing-dancing-leaping-about kind of happiness, but a deep-from-within happiness that reminds me of the reason we two people joined. the support, belief and love of our families, friends, community have generously seen us through.
every now and then there is a moment, a wildly astonishing wide-eye, a heart-lifting teary eye, an i-wouldn’t-wanna-be-anywhere-else. and, in the way of moments, it is a gift, a reminder of the unlikeliness of ever having met, a gratitude for how the universe aligned two tiny stars distantly apart, a peek into the big heart – and the sense of humor – of whatever deity you wish to name. those are bouncing-dancing-leaping-about kinds of happiness moments.
each year that we celebrate another year we relive that week preceding our wedding. each year we are grateful. each year we are really aware of happiness … which begets happiness … which begets happiness.
reverse threading 