the little stuff

Without fail, on certain days, I find myself measuring myself against the giants, those who trod across uncertain landscapes firmly and with certainty, ease. I know I shouldn’t, but it has always been my cross, to want more. I’m not sure I can blame my parents for this one, maybe it was their post-depression dreams feed to me with all they believed possible, men reaching for the moon, a culture breaking sexual taboos and racial barriers, and seeing a world rebuild after war. Today I attempt to content myself by focusing on the little stuff. Finding the joy that nature brings. Taking a moment to look up at the blue or remembering to look down, to really see what’s here and now.

close up of a bare branch

What is it about drive that causes regret? Or even sorrow? Yet is the force needed to pry most of us out of the easy chair and down that untrodden path. I walk that line, internally, during the autumn, as the leaves burst forth with one last dying splendor, and dusk grabs hold of day too early, I too feel as it all is crashing about too early. Can’t this all go on a bit longer? Must it all end?

closeup of a field of fall flowers

I really can’t blame my mood wholly on the autumnal weather, for it truly has been a fabulous October so far, but the dying of all things that grow, coupled with the sea of Senators clapping with glee just about cut, no, did cut, the last vestige of hope I held. I know it’s all about getting out the vote, and swearing we’ll show ’em in the midterms that we’re out here ready to take ’em down. But I lost the verve. Can we? Will we? Are people ready to do anything and everything to bring this country back to civility and compassion? Ready to accept this multicultural coast to coast united states? I don’t see it. We are red or blue. We are divided by who we voted for, or who we didn’t vote for; we are those who still think they are casting a vote in a system that isn’t rigged, and those of us who are pretty certain it is, and then there is that sea of white men jumping for glee that another belligerent, lying, entitled, divisive, and partisan, white man joined their ranks, untouchable and protected by their secrets and belief that all is fair in war. Even dishonor. Even ruining our country.

On nights like this, when the rain is hitting the window panes, and there is talk of frost and cloudy days ahead, I wonder what those with little children are telling them. That this world is headed for environmental catastrophe? That even with a college degree they will never make enough money to buy a home? That women will never earn what a man does, or ever be believed when she accuses a wealthy and powerful man of anything? Probably not. Even as I despair, I hope they don’t. I hope they stay the course. That they show the world of dreams and stars shooting across a black and clear sky. A day when clean air trumps a coal mine. When water is drinkable everywhere.

I hope that the small things stay always at the center of my day. The way a colleague texts with a bike riding plan. Another with a new project to start. A neighbor brings spare bulbs to plant. The blue jolting me out of whatever mood I am spiraling in and signals, hey, hey you. Take a breath.

As much as I yearn, I am content today that life is just walking down the path checking out our little world. I might always dream of more, with hope, more for us all. Well perhaps not more for those politicians excited to take control of my body or my gay marriage or health care or education or clean air and water or a country that extends refuge to immigrants or asylum seekers or their babies who are instead still under lock and key separated for so long now that they will never know life without trauma. Not those men who swear on a bible to uphold the same truths that you and I do, but wow, they steal away into the dusk, and arrive at Mar a Lago with glee. Shall we vote them out? Can we, please?

 

Photo Cred: @artcity_vibes

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