Finding my Way in the Dark
It’s the dark of the moon, sunlight is waning, and my mood is dark. For four years now I’ve not ventured into politics in this blog—I figure we all get plenty of that elsewhere—but it’s been a hard week and I’m struggling. I can only imagine how the many women who have been raped or assaulted are feeling. Yet even without that experience myself, my rage has been triggered, based on a lifetime of being ignored, discounted, and unheard as a woman. Decades (and lifetimes) of this, even as a privileged white woman amongst educated and privileged men. A few days ago I felt encouraged, as new information and support for women was continuously spilling forth in the news. Secrets revealing the misogynist culture at Yale. Dr. Ford’s courage, and her story validated by stories from women all over the country. Unprecedented letters written by the American Bar Association and hundreds of law professors. Yet on Friday and Saturday we learned it made no difference. (Apparently the majority of the Judiciary Committee were so intent on getting what they wanted that they couldn’t hear, or wouldn’t listen to, all those voices crying “no.” Kind of like a man intent on rape who is unable or unwilling to hear “no”?) How to channel my rage and sense of helplessness? I spent two days writing a fiery poem about it all. That helped, a little. On several days, including today, I tried to swim it off in an extra-vigorous workout. Helped some. But now I’m cranky all over again reading an article in the Sunday Star Tribune (from the Washington Post)...Incredibly Out of Touch
Had an embarrassing “old and clueless” moment at the movies awhile back. We loved Incredibles back in 2004 when we saw it with our teenaged kids, so we were eager to see Incredibles 2. The plan was supper and the movie. The first red flag was when I looked up the show times. I was startled to see that we had five choices: in addition to standard and 3D, the film was in IMAX 2D, Dolby, and Prime. We didn’t know what most of them were, but since the only one we knew we wanted to avoid was 3D, we went off to dinner, figuring there would be plenty of showings to choose from when we were ready to watch. Later, when we got to the theater the next show was in Dolby. Enhanced sound? Probably too loud, but ok. Dolby was as expensive as 3D. And all the rest. Except standard. Sigh. Oh well, we’re here now. Select your reserved seat. That was new at this theater. To us anyway. Passing an expanded snack bar and an actual liquor bar—when did that happen?—we found our seats, large cushy recliners, and settled in. (Ok, before I go on I have to say: we do go to movies, even theaters that have reclining seats and a full bar. But mostly to theaters with very basic amenities. Probably hadn’t been to this one in about a year.) After a few minutes of an expected loud and frenetic pre-movie show, the previews began. As this was an animated kids movie, all the previews were for kids movies, all of them animated. All but one of them were...Spring in the Maelstrom
How’s your month being going? If it’s been calm, peaceful and predictable, I think you are quite unusual. In the last two weeks, I have experienced two family birthdays, my husband’s retirement, a week’s visit with a friend out of town, a neighbor’s adult child’s untimely death, a dear friend injured in a car accident, my eldest child’s graduation from medical school, my youngest child home for the graduation rear-ended in a car accident, probably totaling the car (he’s ok), and a week enduring a miserable cold, including a visit to urgent care. Oh, and my Facebook account was hacked; after several attempts to clear it, I had to deactivate it until I can figure it out. (And of course the deaths of Prince and Daniel Berrigan.) So when I sit down to write this blog, I chuckle as “blog” triggers images of me blearily, foggily, slogging through a boggy mind to make this month’s offering. Therefore, to spare that soggy mess, I will simply offer this poem, Aware, by Denise Levertov. It comes to mind because I like it, but also because for me the peace between the maelstrom of events has been the glorious spring—the light, the breeze, the tulips, daffodils, and now lilacs (I can’t wait to smell them when I recover from my cold). When I opened the door I found the vine leaves speaking among themselves in abundant whispers. My presence made them hush their green breath, embarrassed, the way humans stand up, buttoning their jackets, acting as if they were leaving anyway, as if the conversation had ended just before you arrived. I liked...Share This Post
Welcome to Whisperings
“There is a place where words are born of silence,
A place where the whispers of the heart arise.”
— Rumi
I will ponder here what whispers to me in the silence. I’d love for you to whisper back; maybe we will all get clearer—or maybe, like in the old kids’ game of “telephone” we will end up somewhere else entirely (which would be fun too)
