my emotional well was full when i woke up today. thinking of us, our children, our families, our dear friends, our community, this world. i desperately want to gather our beloveds in, hold them close, protect them.
i have no words for all of this; i have too many words for all of this. i fear that none of them are helpful, none of them are wise. it’s just me. and, like you, carrying the weight of the world one step at a time, one quiet minute at a time, staring out the window and wondering.
in these times. the emotional upheaval is exhausting. worry is the crux of insomnia. we measure every step, every decision. we look to each other for reassurance, for a fast-receding touch of normalcy. we feel…lost.
in these times. we remember other times we felt this way. other times of confusion and fear, of social responsibility and adherence to new rules, new realities. too many calamities to name, it seems. too many times…lost.
this little book Peri Winkle Rabbit Was Lost was the product of such a time, as david created it – a one-of-a-kind – in response for a call for a children’s book that addressed the tragic hurricane katrina, a book given to children that offered empathy for the plight in which they were standing, their lost.
we, as artists, do what we can to offer comfort, to bring a little solace, a moment of breathing, a slice of hope in darkness, a tiny map in lost-ness.
we, as people, look to the arts for a little solace, a moment of breathing, a slice of hope in darkness, a tiny map in lost-ness.
in these times. standing in the darkness with each of you. maybe together we will not feel as lost.
i’m writing this as i listen to the loud interruption of wind machines and a large lawnmower/mulcher behind our yard. a family with many children (6 or maybe 7) is having their yard spring-cleaned up and it makes me nostalgic for the days we, as kids, as families, cleaned our own yards.
the feel of the rakes in our hands, the smell of leaves, the chill in the air and the anticipation of spring-on-its-way, the promise of hot chocolate. the quiet. i can hear the sound of the metal tines of the rake, many bent out of shape, as i attempted to make piles of leaves. my dad would later clean up my messy attempts but in the meanwhile i knew i was helping. i was outside and the sounds of birds-early-on-the-wing and rustling squirrels, the wind whispering high in the oaks of our yard, these were the sounds of march.
ahhh, the blowers and the large-engine machine just stopped for a moment and i took a deep breath before they started back up again.
in these days of unsettling and increasing isolation we are challenged to find ways to calm our souls. recently we took a long walk on the frozen lake up north. all around us nature was quietly waiting. gracefully bending in the cold wind, birch trees wait. grasses, browned from fall and a long winter, sway in pause. all around us you could feel it; anticipation of what is to come and the quiet biding of time.
in between all the remotely-done work-of-the-day tasks, maybe later today we will take a walk. we’ll put on our boots and drive to the woods. we’ll feel our breathing even out as we step from little-baby-scion into a hushed space, a place of waiting. we’ll likely walk in silence.
there’s so much noise around us these days. angst and anger, concern and contention, rhetoric and reason, pomposity and push-back.
we have no choice but to wait. to be respectful of each other, of the time it will take. to do what we need to do in order to survive as best we can with as few dire repercussions as possible. to be responsible and proactive. to do the right thing and honor health and life in the none-too-steady heartbeat of the world. to wait. like the birch trees and the grasses on the edge of the lake, bowing to the wind and rising to the sun.
“to everything turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn, and a time for every purpose under heaven.”(pete seeger) this – this time – must be the time for anger. it’s bracing. and it’s everywhere. i have a hard time validating anger as a choice over a steadfast temperament, especially when it comes to leadership. i have a hard time watching poisonous blaming where blame does not lie. i have little to no patience for those who justify their angry words or actions with falsehoods or the power of their position. i have no respect for those who point vindictively accusatory wagging fingers at people who are doing jobs for which they are qualified and to which they are committed. people are riled up and it’s not getting any better.
“anger is a selling point among many voters as it’s a proxy for passion and strength…”(nicole hemmer) it’s bracing. if you happen to be among the millions of people who use social media you might find yourself astonished a time or two. without remorse or regret, posts will wreak havoc on your fact-checking, source-seeking self. the information posted is mind-boggling. the anger clearly behind the posts is jaw-droppingly stunning.
but i suppose that’s the point. in the absence of a calm, informed, articulate, well-meaning leader who is anchored to the core values of our country, not to mention the core values of human-kind, all hell is bound to break loose. and it has. our communities, our country, our world – all are observing as anger runs for president. and now anyone who has been angry has a choice.
do you choose anger? or are you mistaking that for passion? do you choose anger? or are you mistaking that for strength? for they are not the same. dare to parse out the difference; dare to question the intention.
“to everything, turn, turn, turn, there is a season…a time to gain, a time to lose…” there is much to be lost. starting with both the humility and pride of a country designed as an experiment of democracy, a melting-pot-welcoming all, a place of peace for its citizens, a land of the free and home of the brave that takes care of its inhabitants, be they women or men, creature or flora.
there is much to gain. starting with both the humility and pride of a country that can favor inclusive equality and fairness over discrimination, intelligent decision-making over agenda-riddled punting, wholehearted responsibility over retribution-acts, unshakeable virtue over a lack of ethics, reassuring integrity over molten anger.
i don’t subscribe to ‘inspirational daily’ but somehow this showed up in my email feed on thursday, a particularly good day to read the wise words of eleanor roosevelt. an activist, the first lady regularly published her musings and views. her accomplishments as a diplomat were far-reaching; her life story difficult and profoundly inspiring. and she was wise. her words remind me of sue bender’s words (from ‘plain and simple journal‘) “to reconcile our seeming opposites, to see them as both, not one or the other, is our constant challenge.”
what would either of these wise women say about our current climate, i wonder?
would eleanor roosevelt pine for the fine-tuned, thoughtful, intelligent discussions of her lifetime? would she abhor the fact-less, jarringly aggressive re-telling of stories, of narrative, all-dressed-up and skewed to one side? would she shudder to hear of attempts to decimate human rights, to place limits, to undermine? i can’t imagine that she would consider the display of indecency, of avenging and putrid name-calling ‘great-mindedness’. i fear she would, instead, point a wagging finger at the players and implore them to be wide awake, to be thinking, to be discussing idea and possibility and wholeheartedly move forward with conscience.
i wonder, does sue bender, in her middle 80s now, feel a sense of deep disappointment in a society that does not attempt to reconcile seeming opposites, does not see them as both, does not cross the aisle but instead builds walls of hateful rhetoric, looks for the worst in each other, advances the ugly? what would her kind soul say about the divisiveness, poisoning all in its rampant siege, a pandemic reaching unsuspecting venues, its toxic arrows out of the quiver and readied. how would she parse out the arguments, the lack of concern for the victimized, the harassment of those on the other side than the leadership?
goodness knows, i suspect both of these amazing women, living in different generations, would be saddened by this climate. they might weep in absolute dismay. or, they might just whisper into the wind, to whomever might listen, “great minds discuss ideas. average minds discuss events. small minds discuss people.”
i sleepily rub the dreams from my eyes. coffee helps. and the snowy world outside comes into focus. no longer immersed in the land of nod, all things rush back: the casts, the worries, work task lists, bills to pay, the world around us. before i peruse the news and the weather, though, i mind’s-eye blow my children a kiss and wish them good days, i hug the dog and the cat lying by my side, i thank sweet d for the coffee with the ernie straw. it all starts. the day has begun.
this past week has been extraordinary in so many ways; more on that another time. i’m buoyed by a hopeful spirit, by connecting with people, by sheer love and the sureness-of-foot taking one step at a time, moving forward; the tide is predictable – it ebbs; it flows. i am wide awake now, thinking.
“we should be wide awake.” yes. for all things. we should have our eyes open. we should monitor our response to the positive, the negative. we should be mindful. just as worry pervades our time, so does hope. we need lead with kindness. we need remember we are sharing this good earth with a hard-to-fathom 7.6 billion or so other souls. we can’t avoid the reality that the narrative we each individually choose must be deliberately and painstakingly vetted with the truth, with awareness, with sensitivity, with fairness. not sleepily, not uninterested-in-all-but-the-reactionary-anger-dramatics, not without due diligence. we must guard against the bandwagon of lackadaisical; we must avoid the geared-down rhetoric of hatred. we are human beings and we have a responsibility.
just as certain as the tide, it is predictable that the two factions in any division will aggressively forward their agendas. it is up to each of us to stay informed, to discern, to ask questions, to speak up, to make intelligent, educated choices based on civility, impartiality and honesty, equality, democracy and freedom. no matter the venue, no matter the place of division.
to be wide awake.
woke: increasingly used as a byword for social awareness.
recently i heard someone say that she was glad her parents weren’t here to see what is happening. i would have to agree. my sweet momma and my poppo would be appalled by today’s incessant and prevailing lack of decency. it’s embarrassing and mind-numbing to witness. this is not just a simple lack of kindness for others; these are displays of a complete lack of regard for the sanctity of human life, the privilege of living together on this good earth.
i am relieved that my children are grown so that i don’t have to explain to them the ugliness that is pervasive, accepted, even overtly encouraged. name-calling, lying, undermining, blatant cruelness aimed at others; egregious acts aimed at those less fortunate, elitist prejudices and judgements loaded into automatic weapons spewing vitriol at others, vindictiveness toward people who have a different opinion, who stand up for something different, who live different lives, who are courageous and whose bravery shows up in truth-telling.
we find that this is not just poisoning the outer limits – the circles we don’t belong to, the social or financial ladder-rung we have not reached, the country we belong to but the government by which we are not employed.
no. this sinister lack of decency has reached its slimy tentacles into our communities, our work, our friends, our families, our homes. people, who we would not expect, displaying reactionary anger – jousting their epee of mean-spirited words at the unsuspecting, stepping over the boundaries of democratic principles, over the clearly-now-elusive stopgaps of doing-what’s-right, over the limit of how-i-would-want-you-to-talk-to-me-is-how-i-will-talk-to-you or how-i-would-want-you-to-treat-me-is-how-i-will-treat-you. there is no conversation. there is righteous indignation, cavalier disrespect, face-down-i’m-not-listening-to-you body language. there is anger. there is hate.
and, instead of being struck down by an army of goodness, a wealth of kindness, even a modicum of fairness, this indecency has become normalized and it seems rewarded. whether outwardly applauding or quietly complicit, the indecency is forwarded on. and the tentacles of this corrosive nastiness, unchecked, reach both inward and outward into the concentric circles surrounding each of us; the incivility is a contagion and it wins.
dogdog and babycat have an interesting relationship. seemingly-by-dog/cat-definition partisan, they cross the aisle everyday to beg together when they are looking for a morsel from our breakfast, stand together when looking for dinner, lay together on the rug when conked out at the end of the day. they have figured it out and i know that they love each other, despite their differences and the personalities they have as well as the traits we have assigned them by speaking for them judging by the looks on their faces.
dogga stares out the front door window and wonders. the cat not so much; he stares but doesn’t seem to really wonder. but they share the front-door-rug and we provide the conversation and thoughts. we have many one panel cartoons of the two of them at the door.
the thing i would point to, in all of the cartoons we have drawn about these two supposed-foes, is that they get along. they respect each other’s toys, food bowls, spaces on the bed. they may think a rude thought here or there, but they don’t voice it aloud. they don’t name-call or lie to each other. with the exception of babycat’s black chair, they don’t destroy things, they don’t shred the garbage, spewing that which is trash all about. they take turns at their shared water bowl. they are empathic creatures, loving and tuned in to things around them and the real state of affairs in the house. they are quietly candid and honest, albeit b-cat a tad bit sarcastic. they are loyal to the bigger picture, their home. they accept each other. without exception, without pretense, without anger or contentiousness. they embrace living together, right here, right now.
there is a moment when the sun is going down that the ball of fire on the horizon disappears. official sunset. but the light lingers in the sky and the color stuns. it is seemingly a grey area between day and night. you can call it either – “it is still day,” you can say. “it is now night,” you might relent. it depends on where you sit and when we are hiking in the woods and still have a couple miles to go we prefer to think of it as ‘still day’.
it’s all a matter of perspective. the eyes through which you view all that around you. the shoes in which you stand as you look out on all that is happening. are you on one side or the other? are you bipartisan-ly, so to speak, looking at life? john avlon recently said, “where you stand depends on where you sit” and i couldn’t agree more.
opinion is a personal matter. indeed. free as we profess (or is it purport?) to be, we are all entitled to our opinions. on everything from food preferences to healthcare in our country, from clothing styles to immigration policies, from decor in our homes to gun control or the lack thereof, from coffee brands to what we individually choose to call a divine universal power and how we lift that divinity up, from places to live to how we feel about blatantly incentivizing people to stay under earning limits…it is all a personal matter.
and yet, it becomes not personal when we are unable to view others’ opinions without demoralizing them, without a listening ear, without educating ourselves before being reactionary and spurting out inaccuracies. when we turn a blind eye to what befalls others. when what is best for us supersedes what is best for all. when riches – in its first definition: wealth or great possessions; abundantly supplied with resources, means or funds – is not meant for the populace.
it becomes not personal when we fail to realize, allow for, negotiate that where we stand – truly does – depend on where we sit.
right now as the sun sets on 2019 it is still day. or has night come?
because i have this thing about everest, high-mountain-climbing tales and the arctic, we have a propensity to seek out movies we can view that tell these stories. we stumbled upon an explorer series that followed the adventures of an arctic explorer at the north pole. the photography was stunning. so much white. and then the blues. a turquoise aqua that you just can’t accurately describe. the explorer described the north pole as elusive, as theoretical, since it continually moves and the longitude/latitude is never constant, always fluid. he is there at the exact north pole and he is not. both.
this painting BLUE PRAYER feels like there. sitting at the very top of our mother earth, the deep night sky behind her, she prays. for our planet, all people, tenets of goodness, generosity, peace. she is quietly still and bowed in fervently verbose prayer. she is praying for the elusive, the theoretical. she knows it is all out there and she knows it is not. both.
reverse threading 