photo by Sheri Dixon

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

These Thoughts Do Not = A Penny

So, I've been staring at this blank screen for days now.

My fingers tappity tap lightly on the keys, revved up to transfer the words as they form in my head.

f d s a rolls my left hand.

j k l ; barely perceptively echoes my right.

It's not that I can't think of anything to say or have an opinion about- lack of opinion has never been an issue for me as anyone who knows me will assure you.

The problem is that my thoughts are not linear at this particular moment, not orderly, not cooperating, not lining up by importance or significance or urgency, the way they generally do- my head has many pigeonholes and compartments all stuffed full of the sticky-notes of my life.

It's the niggling, you know.

That tickling, twitching, shadowy, shimmery uneasiness that somewhere, sometime soon, something is fixin' to happen.

And of course "something" happens every day. For good or bad, something happens. Every day.

But this is different.

It feels big, like political big or natural weather event big.

It feels oppressive, the echo of an exhalation while the breath is being held.

It feels like while we're focused intently on something of great and true importance with all our forward vision, just off to either side other equally important things are being peripherally held up and erased, disappeared, silently crushed into dust- these things, these rights, these freedoms.

And by the time we notice they're gone it's too late.

The things of our lives that define who we are, what we do and how we live are being blown away like so many dandelion puffs through the blades of a lawnmower, the smallest and oldest and weakest among us are set adrift, and the punch line is, of course, that includes each and every one of us.

Almost without exception everyone I know and love is facing the loss of a home, of a job, of family, of the illusion of financial security- the very fabric of my local society mirrors the unrest and uncertainty of our cumulative immediate future.

On the one hand I'm compelled to stock up, prepare, get ready for...what?

The other hand tells me that no matter what I do or how much I do it won't be enough for...what?

Both hands are convinced that what we're facing will not be the End, but merely a phase, some growing, some adjusting, some re-thinking will need done, but being totally and as long as this body breathes a human, I believe with all the energy in my soul that once we're through it we'll be better for it.

The old "It's going to get worse before it gets better" and "May you live in interesting times" drivel.

And that propels me through every day, past the fog in my head and the tangled heap of stockpiled wrecks of trains of thought and out into the world- my very tiny reachable touchable world. To listen, and care and help where I can.

To try to sound an alarm, no matter how tiny and annoying, to nudge everyone I know to look AND see, to hear AND listen, to think AND feel, to reject soundly and without regret or backward glance any ideology that unites by division and focuses on distraction and talks love while walking hatred.

To be Fully Human- accepting others for who and what they are without judgment, to care for each other without strings or provisions, to follow simply and without question the one phrase that is uttered in every single set of beliefs worldwide and down through the ages-

"Do unto others as you would have others do unto you".

My friend George likes the saying "Today is a gift- that's why it's called the Present".

And it is.

It's Hope wrapped in Foreboding tied up with Resignation.


  1. it isn't END times but we're gonna wish it was...damn scary I say.

  2. yes, it is- IF we can learn from history, it doesn't have to be awful, just uncomfortable.

    That's a pretty big IF for a species who prefers to not think about the icky stuff...