Joy – Hank Book – “American Gods”, Neil Gaiman TV – AHS/Dead to Me/Queen’s Gambit Album – “Gaslighter”, The Chicks Food/Ingredient – Shallots The Power of Art – Jared Kushner Channels Dorian Gray, by Drew Friedman Garden – Cauliflower Person – Joy Doyle, my mother Activity – Watching sunsets Word used most often – Options Word for 2020 – Death Phrase for 2020 – I’m done Word for 2021 – Curiosity Phrase for 2021 – A new landscape
If you only want to read the fun stuff, then stop here. If you want to continue reading, don’t expect fun stuff.
I haven’t been that active with posts for the last couple of months because I really didn’t know what to say. My year diminished into a painfully anticipated end. In the early hours of December 21st, my father died peacefully in his sleep at home. To add to the sadness, we found out that day that a first cousin had died unexpectedly a few days prior and a funeral was currently being held for him. Their deaths are full of their own sorrows, yet they are names on a long list of lost loved ones from this year. I had spent a third of December in Arizona to be with Dad and family, but I made it back home for Christmas. I’ll have to return to Arizona later this month (possibly February) for the service. Death in winter is as plentiful as snow.
I’m not going to ruminate over how awful this last year has been. It was harder than what I’m willing to reveal. Little did I know I would purposelessly dive down into the icy indigo water of my psyche, and discover forgotten relics of memories and pieces of myself. Treasures, no, valuable, yes. Below are a couple of brighter perspectives from what I gathered and hauled away.
Connection to the natural world – I can’t push nature away from me, nor can I push myself away from nature. We are connected. As much as the universe can violently set the terms of the relationship, she is also the greatest solace: Energy, atoms, elements, chemistry, physics, biology, and wonder.
Wholeness – All of it. Every piece of me is acknowledged without judgment. I challenge myself and everyone to swap out judgement for curiosity towards ourselves, others, and uncomfortable ideas.
It’s been decades since I’ve laughed so little. I believe many of us have been forced to recalibrate what’s important. My focus now is on my mother. She lost the father of her children, her one and only husband of 56 years. In spite of human madness, they truly loved each other. Only a year ago, I watched Mum keep pace with Dad as he struggled walking with his walker to get from parking lot to restaurant. But now as I walk next to Mum without him, I notice she shuffles. She wasn’t patiently slow for Dad, they were slow together. Between them, one never began, one never ended.
For 2021, I have no desire to give any reaction to the worst of ourselves. Nor am I feeling generous with hollow positivity. I will only cook with the iron weight of truth. And I will suck at executing all of the above. Perhaps we need to stop expecting more, but instead be more. There is so much more to me, you, and us than what we’ve been convinced of in 2020.
The inner tornado
Started by a whisper
The formation begins
At the top of the head
Pulsates behind the eyes
And drops down through
The throat, lungs, stomach, pelvis
Only sweep leaves around
Maybe a plastic bag circles up
Giving a visual of the invisible
Then there are the monstrosities
An atmospheric catastrophic force of energy
Between the earth and sky
The only thing to do is to get out of the path
And let it run its course
As many as one, to multiples
Or at the same time
In the same area
Because that area causes
Multiple tornados to happen at once
Or multiple tornados in different areas
For different reasons
Different versions of destruction
For each era in life
Has cause for a storm
All it takes is a whisper
Sometimes something bigger
The voice of an opera singer
A groin ache
It can only run its course
Well, these are anxious times, so comes out an anxious poem. No real form, unlike a real tornado. We are all walking tornados. A hug could help alleviate an attack, but we can’t. So the destruction continues, grows, and is more severe. Anxiety isn’t seasonal.
One antidote that I have found to bring relief is wisdom – precious, and mostly found in dark and hard to reach places. Requires labor intensive care, and grows very slowly. But it provides night vision, foresight, and stillness.
Breath in a counter wind to your inner twister, and be still. It will run its course.
IMAGE:KEANE LUØNG 🇨🇦 on Instagram: “The calm before the storm. ☈☈”
When I feel this way
Is how I feel today
Can’t tell the difference between blue and tired
There is no light at the end of this tunnel
There is no light at the end of this tunnel
An easy cure
The problem now
The problem before
Is a cold entrance wound
I’m not sad
Comfort from the stage
No one can invade
Black grass blade
I walk today
Chilled and damp
Red on the blade
A red name
The old neighborhood
Wasn’t that friendly
Keep me in the white
I’m the memory
Safe in my grave
I’m reading into many things in only black and white. Gray is smoke, not contrast. I’m starving to decide. The in between is memory. Black and white.