Just Because

For what it's worth

the sewing machine is at the repair shop

again

apparently

stitching through many layers

over and over

is tough

needles break

the motor freezes

thread tangles

under the presser foot

even though

you've sewn this pattern

187 times

so far

to make a mask

you need

cotton cloth

elastic

wire

you think about

the person who will wear

a mask with Snoopy fabric

blue and green Seahawks logos

tiny blue and pink daisies

as they care for your mother

an old neighbor

a disabled child

you know it's better than nothing

as their glasses steam up

as soon as their shift is over

the mask lies beside them on the passenger seat

tomorrow

they have another choice

yellow and orange stripes

or the one with children dancing

holding hands

on a background of blue

Seattle.

Capitol Hill Occupied Protest.

Back at home, the eternal cycling of grief, rage, sorrow, moments of beauty (what else are humming birds for?) fatigue. John Stewart reminding us that our discomfort with wearing masks (!!!) for the last few months is nothing compared to 400 years.

Taking the White Awake course again. There were over 500 people on the course. Sunday afternoon for a few hours for four weeks.

The forest this morning was extraordinary. Balm.

Let me explain. The top photo is my current situation with the living room ceiling. Yes, I'm painting the beams (too damn dark) and the plaster which is cracked and old an horrible and a fucker to paint. Then there are the walls and trim (hahahahahahahahahahahahaha). I'll be done eventually.

The rest of the house looks like hell. No one cares. No one come over except to stand around outside.

The beauty is Kubota gardens, started before WWII by a gardener, Mr Kubota, who was interned during the war. He came home and continued stocking the koi pond and tending the gorgeous greenery. When he died, his family left the garden to the city.

This is where we practice Tai chi. It's more beautiful than you can imagine.

Be well, dear ones.

Today we walked in silence for Black Lives Matter. In the rain. It rained steadily the whole way. Nobody complained.  It was a march for mourning. Then the sun came out.

Thousands of us, all colors. Many children. Small groups in the neighborhoods holding signs at intersections. Everywhere. All over the country.

Meanwhile, the asshole is taking away the right to healthcare from our transgender loved ones. How to hold what is here, is happening. How to hold the pain and beauty. How to hold the anger and fear.

Today, I got no answers. I don't think I ever did. Do small deeds with great love.

Folks were passing out homemade cookies. In the rain. Small deed. Great love.

Border town

Perhaps the quiet ones have a volcano

under their tongues

thin boy in the corner

flicks matches at

at his wrecked shoes

his voice stollen from him

at birth

where is his country

the music sticky as honey

magnolia petals float

in the ditch

their color mistaken for bandages

for a fire that won't start

a boy who finally stands

spent matches all around him

like a halo

or a moon