siri sent an unsolicited message. good vibes that feel like warm little boosts of joy and confidence are certainly welcome right now. i wonder how she knew.
these are perilous times. i’m not quite sure how to stay balanced or in center. so any little vibe-boost helps.
we’ve turned the salt lamps on in our studios. we have an ampersand in our living room. we exercise regularly. we listen to guided imagery meditation. we cook and eat fresh foods. we get outside. we hike in the woods and along the river. we hug our dogga. we are cleaning out and making space. we feed and watch the birds in our backyard. we study barney aging in the garden. we wear toasty socks and fur-lined boots. we have baselayers on and keep the house cooler. we open the window at night. we have two fig newtons every day. we sip bold coffee from hydroflasks our girl gave us. we have wine – just in case – on the rack our boy gave us. we use moisturizing lotion each morning and night. we try to stay hydrated. we prepare and share dinner at least twice a week with others. we listen to music. we read. we hold hands. we dance – all three of us.
and – even with all that – you can feel it seeping in. the dread. the horror of what has already happened in merely one week. the ill intent.
and so, we reach to others. because together – those of us who find it perilous – these unacceptably cruel, undemocratic, oligarch-led times – we may bring boosts of joy and confidence to one another. at the very least, we will tend to the most elemental bits and pieces of life.
and siri will shower us with good vibes in the middle of it all.
the connective tissue between us is sometimes like strong rope and sometimes like filmy silken thread. yet we are – one to the other – connected through bliss and storm, hot heat and bitter cold, mountaintop summits and chasmic challenges. though you may be peripheral in my every day story, we connect in the subplot of all our stories – the humanity of living – our interdependence, our shared earth.
we – together – in our shared mission seeking goodness – step into the next day. in our joining – together – we bring the best of each of us – the uniqueness of all our strengths, our gifts, our wisdom – and we buoy one another.
when the ice formed on the window in threads – more beautiful than i could have ever created – the feathery crystals latching onto the ice-strand – like tiny preschoolers holding the knots on a rope while walking in a safe-line – it reminded me, once again, of your presence. the threaded crystals remind me that we are not alone, that – together – we may find the beauty we know is there, the pause between the notes, the reinforcement, the ‘ands’ that we each desperately need.
the needlepoint of the universe – crocheted vapor – a talisman of hope.
“if everything around seems dark, look again, you may be the light.” (rumi)
we are the light in this darkness – together – particularly when we make together our intention. though feeling as if hanging on by a thread, i take comfort knowing you are hanging with me, with us.
i am distracted by the two days. the two days that are left. the two days before. two days. a whole two days. only two days.
“now it’s your turn to stand guard. may you all be the keeper of the flame. may you keep the faith.” (president joe biden – the united states of america)
so.
acknowledge dread, the quaking in your chest. know that in a hug one might feel the fluttering of another’s heart; one might calm the storm a bit.
be vigilant, ever watchful, particularly for opportunities to help preserve decency. know that there is power in compassion.
speak to truth; expose trickery and deceit and cruelty. silence is not golden, especially now. know that you are not alone in your grief nor your wish for goodness to prevail.
in silhouette – in the trees against the sky – it was difficult to tell if they were starlings or grackles. the identifying characteristics like feather, head, leg or beak color fly in the face of the silhouette. tail length and body shape can be discerning factors as well as their bird calls or the raucous sound that they make while hanging out in trees together. but – at these moments that we were photographing them – they were quiet and, though i might lean toward starling – because of their general body shape and tail – i’m really not sure. plus, starlings and grackles and blackbirds all often mingle together, so it can be hard to distinguish one from the other.
what i do know is that it doesn’t matter. they were beautiful all perched in the trees and it’s a marvel to look up and see sooo many birds, resting and waiting before they move on.
we are coming ever closer to the changeover in the administration of our government. it feels like we are getting a little bit quiet in waiting. there is so much chaos that can happen quickly and this morning we talked about who will stand in integrity to push back against it all, who will be decent, who will abide by the laws of the land, who will be responsible advocates for humanity – the absence of which will perpetuate a chaos of insane proportion.
were we all to be seen in silhouette perhaps there would be more likelihood that we might all be treated equally, that people would not be disenfranchised or marginalized because of pigmentation or gender or ethnicity or sexual orientation or socioeconomic status or any other differentiating thing.
if we had to squint to try and make out the details of each other and – still then – think that we are all basically the same – for silhouettes – and yes, people – are like that – maybe this country could be a better place.
i shudder thinking about what’s coming. it makes me feel sick to my stomach.
i wonder when wisdom might return. the meanwhile is going to be a shameful place.
if you’re looking for me, i’ll be in the tree communing with the birds. you’re certainly welcome to hang out. they say birds of a feather flock together. any feather.
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.
we were on the phone and she said, “we all just need to check out a while.”
i couldn’t agree more.
it has been a lot. more than a lot. and it just continues on and on and on – this farcical nightmare of politics. there is nothing like watching an incoming administration poking fun at every single serious issue out there, lining its own pockets and the pockets of kakistocratic cronies, maniacally ranting and raging and seeking revenge, raising up the uppers and cruelly disempowering the middles and the lowers. it is utterly exhausting and disrespectful to the core of this nation.
but this is me…checking out.
so as we are tending to this holiday season, looking for gifts – the things people may need or wish for – and shopping, i know that there is one thing that we simply cannot buy – for ourselves or anyone else:
hope.
and so we’ll do our best to make people smile, to engage people, to let them know we are thinking about them and holding them close – particularly now, when so many others have disappointed us and them, particularly now, with the emotional whiplash we have felt as a result of the loss of positive possibility, particularly now, grieving the burial of any goodness from the top down, particularly now, overwhelmed by the stunned surprise we have felt watching those we care about wholeheartedly support this horror.
i know that we cannot buy hope. and i know that right now it seems far away, especially if we are actively paying attention to the intentional bullying and destruction of all we know as this democracy.
but that doesn’t stop us from yearning for it, from seeking it, from creating it. together.
it’s kind of traditional for this group. our up-north gang is superb at pontoon-boating together. so it seemed like a given we would pontoon on lake powell.
we had spent a lot of time in the rented suburban, driving from one iconic national park to another, surfing the canyonlands of this country – kind of an overview of the wildly beautiful. the idea of being in a boat together was enticing, particularly magical in the middle of the desert.
it was completely different than long lake and bass lake – connecting lakes in northern wisconsin. with awe-inspiring rock formations lining the fingers of this lake, we cruised around – hours disappearing into what seemed mere minutes. stunning us around every corner.
to say that we were overwhelmed by all the intense beauty we saw on our trip is to not be able to put words to it. the incredible vistas were mind-numbingly vast, gorgeous, pride-inducing. not enough adjectives.
here we all were – good friends out in the southwest. we had spoken about this trip for quite some time. some serious health events got in the way, so actually being there was an absolute celebration of life – you could not help but feel grateful not only for everything we were seeing, but grateful that we were able to see it all – together.
this america – with sea-to-shining-sea natural gifts – was the america of which we were proud. this america – that encouraged us to explore, to take to the road, to travel, to have limitless opportunity – was the america of which we were proud. this america – and this was the bottom line for our trip together – that had access to excellent health care which helped in the serious life events, that made it possible for us to stand on the edges of these canyons – was the america of which we were proud. this america – teeming with tourists and languages we didn’t understand – was the america of which we were proud. this america – with so much diversity, so much to learn, to see, to experience – was the america of which we were proud.
i am a native new yorker. i have been to – the iconic – madison square garden (msg) many times. there was the time – during my horse-crazy phase (which incidentally hasn’t ever really ended) – when my parents took me to the national horse show, probably around 1968 or ’69. there was the time i went to the john denver concert in the later 70s. and there was the circus a little later. more concerts and events i can’t even remember. it is – as stated on their website – “a celebrated center of New York life…with an appearance at the worlds most famous arena often representing a pinnacle of an athlete’s or performer’s career.”
i was horrified to see footage of the maga rally held there – on the pinnacle stage of a performer’s career – this past sunday.
what america is this?
there are no words to describe the ultra-ugliness, the bold hatred, the disrespect, the dystopian rhetoric, the clear fascist intent of this rally. it was despicable in every way. i am not tapped out for adjectives like i was in the canyonlands of this beautiful country. i am tapped out for adjectives that adequately describe the deplorable nature of this unforgivable rally.
the intent of the maga candidate and his sycophants is obvious. it is not in question. there is no denying it. it is in plain view.
but you can vote against it.
and so, i ask you this:
are you still undecided? are you still planning on voting for this grossly incompetent maga candidate? do his words – and the words of his platform and his cronies make you proud? are you ready for an authoritarian state of being, for the crushing of this democracy, for cruel undermining and undeterred marginalization, for the treasonous demolition of america, the beautiful? is this what you want?
and, if you are still undecided, if you are planning on throwing away everything – every single thing iconic about the democracy of this country, if you are planning on voting for the candidate who is making you – YOU – complicit in making the united states of america a fascist regime, what in the hell are you thinking?
i want to hold onto the sound. cicadas and crickets on summer nights. it’s a locating sound, and, as i adirondack-chair-sit on the deck listening, i am immersed in it. i can feel it.
we’ve been watching the series “alone” lately. our binges have taken us through to season five, where ten people have been dropped off in desolate mongolia to survive as long as they are able. the sounds are completely different – wolves are howling, deadly snakes hissing, bears rustling through the woods – unnerving sounds. it is beyond my wildest imagination what these people are doing, how they are assimilating into and feeling a part of this environment, how they are sustaining. i would absolutely fail out there.
it does make me think that – indeed – we all have our strengths. as we hiked the other day we talked about how fascinating it is to watch other people and the random abilities they’ve been blessed with. we are simply spokes on the wheel…a giant wheel of universe proportion.
i came across this cicada in our driveway. i was immediately saddened, for it was wandering in a circle and i knew it had little time left on this earth. its beautiful coloring, its giant alien eyes, it captivated me and i gently placed it into the bushes next to the driveway, offering a few words of gratitude for its existence.
one less cicada to sing its nightly song, i know that too soon the night will be quiet and i will miss the sounds i have always associated with the white noise of summer.
i woke up this morning to the sound of walter and irma in our backyard. these are two cardinals that frequent our feeder and hang out on the wires of the garden happy lights or on the top of the fence that stretches across the yard. they are as much a touchstone as our cicadas, but i know they will stay through the fall, through the winter and hopefully will cheerily greet the spring again next year. they have a hard time with our bird feeder because the rim is not big enough for them to perch upon – and because the squirrels do gymnastics emptying it.
we have promised walter and irma a flat feeder – the kind we understand that cardinals prefer. and every time walter flails around on the edge of our current birdfeeder, we imagine that irma is reminding him that someday we will have a different feeder, to hang in there and to stop being overly-dramatic.
i think that someday has arrived.
sometimes it is the simplest of things that bring us the most reassurance. somehow the loss of one more cicada makes me want us to extend to our backyard birds something that will make their ability to sustain a tiny bit easier. they are spokes on our wheel – giving us the grand pleasure of watching them, slowing us down, grounding us.
in the days that we feel like we are in the wilds of mongolia – for we all have days like that – we find things that bolster us, we find things that give us perspective, we find things that make us feel a part of the whole, we find ways to sustain.
i know i will soon miss the cicadas and crickets. i recorded their nightsong on a video and saved it. just in case – in the middle of winter or the wilds of mongolia – i need to feel it.
prior to going up-north i had only been on a pontoon boat once – in the carolina mountains with a black lab who loved to swim and a tiny little life-vested girl who equally loved the water and who spent time rafting alongside. our little boy had not yet even joined us, so it was a long time ago and the memory, although faded in detail, is clearly peaceful and beautiful. gloriously great fun.
the pontoon of up-north means laughter and snacks, old-fashioneds and slow cruising around the connecting lakes. it means conversation and story-telling, the search for loons, and the art of spontaneous plan-making.
we haven’t solved all of earth’s mysteries onboard, nor have we come up with a design for world peace, but we have found solutions to less pressing problems, offered and heard advice, dreamed a bit.
there is nothing quite like a pontoon boat to remind you of the power of community. and, more than once on that pontoon boat a few weeks ago, i looked around and gave abundant thanks for the others on the boat. snugged into comfy seats, sun on our faces, a summer breeze blowing, we are in a cove of deep friendship, people who can count on us and upon whom we can depend.
moments like these lend themselves to carrying a kind of a pontoon boat philosophy of life everywhere…a place of inclusion, of generosity, of comfort, a place of openness and caring. a place to share some time, to float ideas, to listen, to feel heard, to have raucous fun, to be quiet. a gentler ride through life, with people around you who will be there when the seas are rougher, when you need a little help with forward momentum, when their support is like oars in a rowboat.
we are fortunate – when we can give over to the pontoon boat. we are fortunate – life presents us with people with whom we can ride along together. we are fortunate – we are reminded of the sheer gift of community. we are fortunate – and we take time to be grateful.
the loons watched us and then, after a few seconds of study, they determined we were simply co-existing with them. they paddled away, riding our rippling wake.
reverse threading 