What needed to be said was said. Trevor Noah, I believe, said it best. I still wonder about how we got here. But my Black friends and Black folk in general are not surprised. We were founded on slave ownership and genocide of First Nations people. Our wealth was built on the backs of enslaved human beings. Our guilt and shame is vast and unacknowledged. And some of us believe we have every right to our white supremacy. Built on nothing, built on air.
I didn't watch the 'debate'. Even thinking about it made my stomach cramp. I knew it would be awful. One more reason to get out the vote, emigrate to new Zealand, ask for help.
We hate to ask for help. We're the USA, goddammit. We can do it ourselves. We're independent. We make the rules. We set the agenda.
Except that our bluster is hiding our soft belly. Where we are vulnerable, scared, tender. We fear aging, sickness, death. We endlessly distract ourselves with stuff, things, you know what you individually do. It has been clear to me during the smoke, pandemic isolation, BLM protests that much is being asked. And we've figured out who and what we care about. All the chaos has brought us down to the finest point. We see more clearly. The little acts of random kindness. Yesterday on my dog walk, I passed a 'little mask station' someone had erected on their lawn. Masks pinned to a small vertical post. Each mask in a baggie. With a sign-Please help yourself.
Poor POTUS. What a miserable life he has. Fawning children. Indifferent wife. Sycophants all around him. I can't, in this moment, hate him. He's merely a symbol of our darkest and ugliest secrets as a nation. Like all autocrats and dictators, he sows despair and disaster wherever he goes. What a burden. It's pointless to expect compassion and kindness from someone who has no interest in accessing those things.
I do fear for our future. For those who come after us. On a visit with a new mother yesterday, she plaintively asked how she could have brought her new son into this mess. Anguish, heartfelt anguish. I reminded her to look into her baby's eyes, to stroke his soft skin, to revel in him every day as he grows and changes. Such a beautiful, heart breaking and impermanent time!
I'm not suggesting that we ignore the crisis (how could we?). But we are seeking the good, in ourselves and in others. It is there. For dinner last night I had blackberry cobbler that Kenny's mother made. Kenny, my pandemic friend and neighbor. Kenny's white beard. His dogs. His steadiness. He's living with AIDS and a heart condition. But he offers to shop for me every week. We lend each other tools.
And we can look over our suffering world with the kindness of boddhisatvas. It is said that Quan Yin hears the cries of the world. Let's be that. Let's be the change we wish to see.
2 comments:
Yes. Thank you for all you wrote today. The cries of the world are heard. We are awake in the midst of change.
Here is what the Velveteen Rabbi wrote:
"Several of you have asked me: if things really are that bad, then what can we do?
Here's my answer: if things are really that bad, then we take care of each other. We protect the most vulnerable among us. We stand up for those who are more at-risk than we are. And we cultivate hope for a better world, and do what we can to get closer to that ideal in our lifetime.
And what if things aren't that bad? If our democracy is actually pretty robust, and there isn't going to be a civil war, and we're not staring down the barrel of totalitarianism, and modern medicine finds an excellent vaccine for covid-19 and good government policies make it available to everyone, and together we can pursue the dream of a more perfect union with liberty and justice for all?
My answers don't actually change."
I've just discovered that Trump and his wife have both tested positive. I am trying to wrap my head around what that means for the country, for the election.
Just when I thought that surely things could not get weirder.
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