in the middle of the middle of the chaos that is this world right now, the thing that seemed the most real was last night’s pizza.
with a new pair of garden snippers, we went out to the potting stand and snipped off some fresh basil for our homemade pizza. the oven was preheating while we sous-chef-ed. we poured a glass of red wine and reveled in the cool breezes coming in from the back door and windows. we dined al fresco on the deck with plates of pizza, arugula spilling out of salad bowls and dogga at our feet. ohhh, what a day.
each morning now, as dogga awakens us or we just mosey out of sleep unprompted by a cold nose snuffling us, i can hear the birds. in the middle of every everything, it is the birdsong that gives me joy as i wake.
when i was growing up on long island, my birthday was serious spring-cusping-time. no longer were winter coats or down vests necessary. the forsythia was blooming and the sweaters were out. i can still hear the birds in the woods behind our house.
i’ve been watching the weather, hoping for a nice day. it’s supposed to be cloudy with a high of 54. surprisingly, though there is a definite absence of forsythia, it will be warmer today than in my old hometown. we will likely go for a hike somewhere – one of our familiar – but loved – trails. because it’s a thursday we’ll have dinner with 20 and we will probably play rummikub together.
and sometime during the day i will sit and ponder turning 66. I’m not sure what 66 is supposed to look like – physically, emotionally, spiritually, economically. i know that many people around me have had different journeys to 66, some of which are much more predictably stable than my own.
nevertheless, i plan on being in wonder. i’ll put lack of perfection aside, next to disappointments and failures. instead, i will look at abundance and think about what would be blue-notebook entries – the mica moments that glitter, the blooms that are ready to blossom, the things that can’t be contrived or spun – all those shiny times and matte times that just simply happen so that we might notice, pay attention and embrace them for all the rest of time.
tuesday i was unnerved. it started small – with a reminder from and an uneasiness about people and the surprising ways they turn on others. it grew as i re-read my recents posts of the last few days, an ache in my heart. it grew even larger as we read news articles and studied sites of information. it grew as i watched youtube videos and read fact-checked information.
“these moments left me feeling worried and afraid, realizing what we stood to lose and how easily it could happen.”(*michelle obama – the light we carry)
at the end of the day, i was cranky at david who was cranky back and i wanted to scream … at something, at someone.
i didn’t scream. instead, i wept.
i had lost the day – this beautiful, humid, hot summer day – the only one i would get on july 9th 2024. “but, but…,” my brain interrupts, wanting to justify the loss.
and – in every critical-thinking way, i would agree with my brain – there is so much that is ugly and we have much to lose in this hot mess of a country. it could easily happen. and i am worried and afraid.
in a life-way though? i know i lost the day. all of it. and in the usual good rhythm of our time together, we had lost our day together.
the tide comes in. the tide goes out. it is certain.
and so, we try to deliberately hyper-focus on here and now. we try to focus on our breathing. we try to hold hands and walk slow.
we also try to do the best we can to be aware, to educate ourselves, to speak up and speak out, to ask questions, to try and understand what is happening, what could happen – differentiate between what is real and what is fictitious, what is terrifying potential and what is propagandized narrative.
i am worried and afraid.
and the tide comes in. and the tide goes out. that is certain.
*****
(*though that is not the context of michelle’s words in the above quote, their relevance struck me as i began to read her book today.)
reverse threading 