Move Ahead

Every morning this week, the whole of my world was shrouded in mist, and not a lacy-like fairy mist, but a thick veil of velvet whiteness covering the road in front of me. I drove into it with only faith directing my course. And all the while, all around me, on the news, in my workplace, along my twitter feed, in private conversations and in large national debates, everywhere, people were lost in their own misty disasters. I didn’t want to write about all that though. So I took a walk and felt the heat of the sun with the suddenly cooler breeze, saw the dirt road stretching up ahead for miles, and thought, here, now, one must feel hope. This post, written a year ago, inspired by two fabulous and courageous and inspiring women, came to mind; came to save me from the despair facing our hurricane battered islands and coastlines, our country split by that divisive businessman turned president, and our personal distress as varied as all hell. This reblogged post could save me from writing about all of that. This post lifted me up, might lift us up. If that is the work of literature, of books, of words, then for now, let that be the work of Nine Cent Girl. Reposted with hope. Faith. Always, love.

Nine Cent Girl

A goal. A destination. A purpose. Life is filled with markers for all of us, from birth to death we move along a continuum of time, looking for meaning. In the beginning, unconscious or conscious, we encounter a string of firsts. First word. First step. First big tumble. First day away from mommy and daddy. The list goes on and on, seeming to stretch far into the milky way with possibility. At least that is the idyllic version we all hope for in life, that doors keep opening while our drive pushes us higher and higher along our projected paths.

dawn

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the best birthday girl

Tonight I celebrate my mother’s would be 90th birthday. Yes, I know she’s gone, although a force like hers can’t be contained in a simple afterlife, right? Of course I’m sad not to have her physically with us, but wow, did we have spectacular fun these last many decades. Holidays and vacations and just spur of the minute plans that would always turn into something fabulous.

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shit show

It really isn’t because I’m reading Claire Dederer’s latest memoir, Love and Trouble, but I must admit, she’s gotten me thinking. About how I wished I wrote with her daring pen. About all those crazy-ass years when I was running straight into the black, and these slightly more stable years, when some of that crazy is boomeranging back. But it isn’t totally that either, it’s my job and the demands that are clear insanity but you can’t actually admit to it because it’s your job after all and you need to keep it a few more years; it’s the guy in the White House who I can’t bring myself to call president or give his title a capital letter but still, you know he’s there and the whole world is acting like he didn’t in fact steal the election but somehow might be qualified even though he’s the very definition of shit show; it’s about summer’s abrupt end and my love of drinking a tad too much rosé, okay my addiction that hasn’t stopped even though I know better and one should stop drinking Summer’s Water; but ultimately it’s about racing and racing every day ahead of just about every deadline so that I can feel like I have it together but know I don’t. Yeah, today, it’s all of that.

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when it all comes tumbling down, there is us

When it all comes tumbling down, there is us. Between tropical hurricanes, and devastating south Asian floods, and politicians messing with Dreamers, there is us. Holding on to a thin thread. Waking in the dawn to go through the routines of life. Time to deconstruct problems, to formalize conflicts, to ask those why questions, all flit like butterflies in our mind as we wait at red lights or on post office lines, but with never enough time to think deeply enough. Because solutions take longer than a moment. We need silence. Staring. Stopping. And when can we ever manage that? I fear that living has shifted into something so swift that none of us can even question anything. Do it quick and move on. Congress shores up the government for three months and calls it good enough. We mail off a check to the Houston Red Cross and sigh relief. We hit high heat on the microwave and call it dinner.  Afterwards we click the button on the controller and let our babies stare at the screen with us. Prefer to text, not to talk. Scroll through the news-feed liking every back to school shot without even looking to see their timid faces peering over their new backpacks and lunch sacks. We’re on the move to nowhere. Tumbling down. Thankfully the earth is there to catch us.

Copes lookout at Mohonk Mountain House Continue reading

Back to School

There is, generally, within a disaster, some small yet distant point of light along the horizon. Katrina, Irene, and now Harvey have that in common: the disaster and the light. Although my Vermont school community is not directly affected this time, their personal memory of Irene has spurred empathy and compassion for the residents in Texas hit hard by Harvey. On our first day of school there were whispers which grew to serious conversation until an unified plan took shape to support the relief efforts. As we are hundreds of miles away, raising cash seemed best.

Harvey Relief Continue reading

Republicans, This Is Your President

Headlines from coast to coast state the current crisis in our leadership better than I could…of course you might want to dig a bit and read past the headlines, but if you’re pressed for time, these statements might be all you need to gauge the American opinion of who exactly is at our helm.

Trump Gives White Supremacists an Unequivocal Boost (New York Times)

Trump Loses Corporate America (Wall Street Journal)

Seagull flying over Lake Champlain

Trump administration wants to praise the county mayor in Miami. He just slammed Trump (Miami Herald)

David Duke and Donald Trump and the long ties of history (Chicago Tribune)

Former presidents Bush rebuke Trump’s neo-Nazi stance (Dallas News)

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