On Politics

It's September of an election year and for several months now we have been caught up in the media circus of presidential hopefuls. My facebook feed, my news sources, my radio are drowning in political ads and commentary and a firestorm from all sides. Obviously this coverage is not bothersome when it supports my own political leanings, but it is outright maddening seeing some of these headlines and claims from the opposition. I frankly can not fathom how people can support Donald Trump (stick with me), and how Trump even won the Republican ticket with all of his demeaning, egotistic, prejudice rhetoric. A man famous for inheriting wealth and privilege, for a beauty pageant, for a reality show. I can't help but associate him with the likes of the Kardashians - famous for being famous. But here's the thing--I understand there ARE plenty who support him and plenty who can not fathom how I could support Hillary Clinton. The problem lately is that instead of accepting and respecting opposing politics, we are attacking the person. We are angry and frustrated and acting like jerks.
Anyone who has ever tried meditating knows we can never stop our mind from thinking. What do you do when a thought arises? You label it as a thought and let it go. I wonder, can we learn to use this method in our debate over politics? Can we learn to separate the human being from their political thoughts by realizing their ideas are just that, and not a measure of their worth or likability? Can we learn to not shake our heads in disgust when we see a vehicle displaying bumper stickers for a politician we don't support? Can we stop using the First Amendment as an excuse for vitriol speech meant to attack those who disagree? We send our kids to schools and tell them to get along, to be kind and respectful to all, to learn to work as a team. Yet we allow our Congress and Senate to thwart compromise, to be stalwarts against working with those who disagree.
My son Fisher and I started reading a book together this week -- Paulo Coehlo's The Alchemist. I was struck right away by the prologue, which tells "the legend of Narcissus, a youth who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty." So fascinated with himself, one day he fell into the lake and drowned. The lake transformed from being fresh water to a lake of salty tears. The goddesses of the forest asked the lake why it wept, to which the lake replied it wept for Narcissus, though not because the lake had seen his beauty, but because "each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected." We are a big, diverse, multi-faceted country, yet somewhere along the way we have become like Narcissus and that salty lake--unwilling to get over ourselves and accept and understand others. For our kids' sake, I hope our political side will one day reflect the values we try to instill in them, instead of this "he said, she said" cycle where no one wants to work together and nothing really gets done. I challenge you to extend some kindness to those with an opposing view. Give a thumbs up to that lady with a Trump t-shirt, or that guy with a Clinton tattoo. Lets be well. We can do better, I really believe that.

It's the end of an era!

School started last Thursday for the kids, which marked the end of my time as a stay-at-home mom (a time that has been the most meaningful of my life). I got a call from the nurse halfway through the first day and had to pick up Fisher as he was running a high fever. That meant he missed the second day too. Phoenix fared better but she was so tired she lay like a puddle on the floor that first eve. And now I am tasked with figuring out what is next for me--thankfully I have an incredible husband who thinks I should spend a little time meditating and just caring for myself before I rush into anything. I believe something will come, and I am using this time to clear my mind and grow. I wrote up a little poetic musing inspired by that first day of school...

It is the first day of kindergarten and no one but a mother

knows what I mean by this. That little human you claimed now claims

a space in the first of many a fluorescent-lit hallway,

shuffling amongst the shuffled, chipping away at

what will define her in time. Did I show her enough

fine vistas, did I engage the presence of trees, of heart,

to remind her what matters, to sustain what is wild in her? 

Keep her grounded?

There is no going back.

As for my heart, it expands in distance – the way one trusts the view

of mountains and accepts what lies beyond.

When I returned home from the school this morning

and stood at the window in the clock-ticking quiet

to gather what I mean now, a mother deer

and her fawn stood there too, rooting out tender leaves

as if they’d been waiting all summer to appear right there before me.

Nothing in life has hurt me enough to not believe there is a kind of magic

at work. And sure enough every time I looked out the window they were there

moving gently and softly on the lawn, guiding me through the hurt

with gentleness and grace. Go easy on yourself, they say, and walk with grace.

Spring Footing

I have had insomnia of late. Last night I took to the deck so I could bathe in the full moonlight and try to tire my eyes reading accounts of the late great Prince and scratching some words down. The problem is my mind is a flurry--so many roots spilling forth in all directions that I don't feel rooted, lest I forget to do something needing doing. I wonder if we carry the seasons in our ribs. We must. Outside, spring is greening and quickening. All manner of blooms and bugs and birds alighting. I swear our asparagus crop shoots up 10 inches overnight. Our woods have gone wild again with poison ivy and ticks, little stirrings with every step through the ground cover as I search for morels so that it keeps me on edge as for the source. We had tulips slipping open but deer already made a home for them in their bellies. It's no wonder I can't sleep with all of this flourishing. No wonder I can't focus and quiet my mind when it too is a kind of spring. Another month and the flurry will slow and steady, shoots will harden into stems and branches. Our schedules will clear for a moment, I'll sleep. It happens again and again doesn't it--things seem hectic and overnight you catch a break until it starts all over again. It is a beautiful, wild thing--our living. As if the universe knows how much we can take and when to let up. I guess it takes a kind of grace to balance these seasons--a kind of faith to know things will root eventually. It matters not the strength of our footing. You could be holding onto a twig or a branch. It matters only that we are holding on.

Traffic

The bridge I drive across every day to take the kids to school is under construction until October. Which means I have to take the long, busy, stop-light laden way, which means leaving earlier and dealing with more cars that cut you off because everyone is in a hurry to get someplace. Which means we no longer get to pass by the two horses we usually see and remark on. Which means the way home takes twice as long. Today on the trek home--after a day of running errands and taking Phoenix to the doctor and sitting there for 2 hours for x-rays and waiting for her to be able to provide a urine sample with no time for lunch and a splitting headache--sitting through several light changes just to move a few feet, I had had enough. I guffawed and groaned and cursed the road. And then Fisher started in and both of us were lamenting 'come on, let's go already' at long lights and a sea of cars as if we were on an LA freeway during rush hour, as if our words would change things. Here he had spent the last 7 hours at school only to be let out to my frustration, only to make it bloom in him. Parents have the opportunity to teach their kids how to handle things by way of example and clearly my example was not something to mimic. And I thought about how this was to be our reality for the next 8 months so I either spend every day for 8 months annoyed by traffic or resign myself to our current fate and deal gracefully. In that moment I felt as if I became liquid as the frustration slid away and I embraced what was--just to be where I was in a car with my son I hadn't seen all day. "You know, Fisher," I said, "I don't want to spend every day getting mad at this road. At least we are together, so lets make the best of it." I asked him to come up with a way we could pass the time better. Hopefully I redeemed myself for my earlier negative outburst and showed him a better way to deal. It's not worth the energy it takes to complain and often our complaints do not and can not change a thing. Yes, the issue of traffic is rather small in the grand scheme, but the method of adapting gracefully is not at all.