I have struggled to start writing again after mostly a summer of performing. Writing is a stop/start thing for me these days, but finally I am learning how to use my meditations that seek to empty my crowded brain so new ideas have room to show up and be noticed. While I admire writers who can produce long pages every day, this little ten minute play I am working on has taken its toll. I can see the end of the play since this morning when I looked up at the gray clouds in the charcoal sky and saw the sun break through with a vengeance. Nature teaches us how nothing is static, even our moments of doubt.
Oh those dreams that come as seasons shift bringing winter winds to our windows to disrupt our desires with their own. It is when these dreams shift too that I start life in a Minor Key. The carpet of gold leaves blows away showing the destruction of the year beneath. My dog does not linger in the outdoors. Poets love the melancholy proving me no poet. I want the light to fall from the chalice of the Universe spilling over every day. I want the splatters to shine in the dark matter that eludes us except as a glue from image to image.
The election has happened. Like many people I am floored by the results. While I was waiting for history to happen – for a woman to win- I was missing the discontent of people who had different values and concerns than I did.
If the election had been rigged by the enemy it could not have made me feel less satisfied. Democracy has a bitter taste when the ingredients make a different dish than that expected by the taster.
The above words were part of a song that came to the surface during the feminist surge. Perhaps we should sing it again….or roar it again. A woman is running for president. She has been bad mouthed by men all her career, and yet she is still out there. Men are supporting her too. Let’s all roar together and make a new sound from sea to shining sea.
How many years ago did these two candidates start running? I don’t know what ails them, but I am bone tired now. The polls make me sweat. The sound bites make me want to bite off my arm. I am hoarse from shouting at the television set, the lawn signs, the
friends who now reveal how different they think than I thought they think. Is there a pill? A balm in gilead? Someone tell me, please.
Tonight is the debate. For President. We’ve seen disagreements before. However this time is different. We have a man who would
take our country to a very different place. And people are threatening to leave the country over his possible winning.
I am older and wiser than such posturings. If all critics leave, who will be left to stand up to someone who wants to take away free speech, free press, and other rights we fought so hard to hold.
It isn’t MY COUNTRY RIGHT OR WRONG. It’s just MY COUNTRY TOO. And the country that is mine is the one I will keep living in. Whatever
levers are pulled.
Balance loses its safety when autumn comes. The big harvest moon that spotlights the sky also shows us we are in a world that is not so easy to travel where trees give up their leaves and birds flurry to get ready to flight. The dark starts to close us in to the cold cave of winter. There is beauty in the muting of colors. But it lasts too long, we find. Crisp air and cold feet in the softness of
sleep. We taste the cider and the last corn and dream our long, long dreams where witches shriek in pleasure of their bumpy rides.