How we all doing out there?
Friday morning, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I’m sure all of you had a similar reaction, or some variation therein. There’s a lot of incredible responses out there, even the ones that sum up all of our shock and helplessness with dark humor. I have no such response, no righteous solution to societal ills. I could sit down and have a really good conversation with you about what I think is going on, I could philosophize about our depraved human condition that leads to such events. But honestly, right now I don’t give a shit. I don’t have ingenious intellectual explanations and demands for change. All I feel, all I felt on Friday, was my heart. Profound grief for Christmas presents that will go unopened, for a holiday that will never, never be okay for some families, ever again, for the suddenly trite and mismatched tones of the seasonal music coming out of the storefront speakers. For twenty babies, gone.
I only have one response, and it is this:
I will vote and join in on conversations and do my part through my chosen career to make the world a better place. Honestly, however, I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of what has happened. The only sincere thing I can do is up the ante on my bodhisattva vows. To offer kindness, to myself, to my family, to strangers, to the earth. It seems simple, and yet, for me, it has been the toughest path I have ever chosen. But when my heart breaks and I am gasping for breath between sobs that cry out Newtown, Newtown, Newtown, the only thing I want to do is to just get better at Loving.
Saturday, we took our hearts to Grace Cathedral, for their Christmas Carol Sing-a-long.
Note: Jeff wearing his Forestlass wine cap.
They were such good sports with the first picture, I thought I’d try for better staging. And this happened.
Inside the light was challenging for photos and we had the worst seats ever, with a giant column blocking our view of everything (note to self: Next year, splurge for the center seats). The kids were still totally enthralled, as were we. We all belted out Jingle Bells with full joy.
The temperatures have dropped considerably in the last week. I’m thrilled…really! Last winter was so weirdly warm, and while I know that Global Weirding is the new normal, it’s nice to pretend, just for a minute, that a cold December is just like all the Decembers I have ever known.
Also, cold weather means that I get to wear my hood. All. The. Time.
Little Red Cap was also appropriately dressed for meeting with An Unexpected Party.
Yes. Yes I AM that person that poses with the movie poster like a nerd. Deal with it. Also, Sara told me it would feel like going home, and she was so right. That’s all I can say for now, or else this post will be a waxy and boring poem on all things Concerning Hobbits. (And The Eagles! And birds under a hat! And absolutely perfect dishwashing songs!).
Before the thermometer plummeted into the Stay Inside Zone, Fern and I had a long and blissful afternoon at Crissy Field last week.
Look at that freighter up there. Take that in for a moment. It’s carrying about 7000 tons, but it’s volume is even greater. AND IT’S FLOATING. Yes, yes, we all know about surface tension, but that’s not less reason for awe. Something unfathomably heavy is buoyed on liquid by a membrane of strength that is not separate from the substance below it. I’m thinking of starting a weekly Wonderment Meditation post. Consider this the first one.
We live in a good world (yes Mamajax, a GOOD world.). My soul has several anthems for this knowing. One is Don’t Panic. Another is from Louie. For that matter, from Iz too. Modern cynicism scoffs at the earnestness of Buffalo Gals. But Bell Hooks nailed it when she said, “Cynicism is the great mask of the disappointed and betrayed heart.” And I’ll follow that up with the last lines of Desiderata: With all its shams, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Loving this world takes courage. Thankfully, you have all you need inside your broken heart.
I’m in full present production mode, and up before the sun and awake with the stars. In other words, peace out for the week! May your solstice be filled with warmth, with light, and…I’ll say it again…with love.