Once upon a time, there was an iridescent blue and green orb floating through the sky- one of many orbs, some red, some brown, some gray, some multi-colored and all floating in their orbits each tiny in the whole but very important to their inhabitants.
On this particular orb lived creatures and plants that were as varied as the orbs in the sky and most of these lived in relative harmony with the others (except for the required circle of life and food chain scuffles), but one species was more problematic than the rest.
The main problem was that this species seemed to think itself as more important than the others- somehow some of them got the notion that the oceans and the lands and all the other living things were there to be used and abused without regard for any natural order of things.
And while other creatures and plants and residents of the orb were content to follow the natural order of things and tended to their own business without fanfare or fuss, this creature was not content to merely use and abuse other species, before long they started looking askance at each other
...curiously...skeptically...jealously...judgmentally...
They split up into nations and warred with each other and among themselves about differences of opinion- threw great walls of their own offspring at each other maiming and killing in the name of justice, and truth, and peace.
And in one tiny nation on that very tiny orb in the very large universe the ones who held money and power said to the others
"Work for us and we will keep you safe, and give you money and someday...if you work very hard, you can be just like us".
And the others said
"Well...all right".
But very few managed to become just like them because it was all a game and smoke and mirrors and the intent was always to keep the riches in the hands of the rich.
And the ones who held the money and power said to the others
"You aren't working hard enough- we'll have to take more of your money and you'll get less of our money because OUR money is making YOUR jobs possible".
And the others said
"Well...all right".
And less and less became rich because they had to work harder and longer and the 'trickle down' never seemed to happen but the 'edging up' of the price of things surely did.
And the ones who held the money and the power saw the beginnings of discontent and became concerned that it would be directed at them, because it WAS their fault and all- so they needed a division diversion.
The money and power people quietly planted the seeds of suspicion and fear among the others and warned ever-so sincerely
"You must not trust anyone who is different from yourselves- the diversity this country was founded on and flourished with is dangerous, dark, deadly, demonic."
And the others said
"Well...all right".
By now the money and power people were freakin' delirious with the (un-contested) belief that they were, themselves gods and goddesses and the others merely there to be used and abused...like the other animals and plants.
They decided to see just how much they could get away with.
"Vote against your own interests just because we tell you to".
"Well...all right".
"Hold up these signs calling for smaller government (invoking the Constitution) in one hand and advocating the taking away of all individual rights (invoking the word of God) in the other and believe there is not some sort of whole scale brain damage necessary for that to make a lick of sense".
"Well...all right".
"See your president? The one you elected to change all this shit? He's on our side- he's our guy now and the only way anything will ever go your way again is if he grows a pair and actually does what you hired him to do. But that's not going to happen now- we're too powerful and have all the money. We've raised all the prices and the cards are not only stacked against you, the deck is so far out of your reach you will never, ever even see it.
All your social safety nets- the ones YOU paid for? Gone.
Your jobs and the bargaining power to keep them fair and safe? Gone.
Your women, children, sick and elderly? Who gives a damn?
You all belong to us now."
And just as the others opened their tired dejected mouths, just as the first word came out wearily
"Well..."
One tiny voice called "Mommy- I'm hungry".
One wavering voice asked "Why don't you respect your elders? We are worthy of respect and dignity".
One female voice whispered "I'm afraid, afraid for myself and my future and my daughter's future".
Voices tiny and singular, leaves on a tree flashing in the breeze, capturing the energy of the sun and transferring it to the trunk and roots.
And the others paused long enough for the fog in their brains to lift, the weight on their hearts to dissipate, the veil over their eyes to dissolve and they saw their families, their loved ones, their friends...suffering.
And as a single voice the country was rocked by a thunderous
"This is NOT all right- this is BULLSHIT!"
Reality says this is a fairy tale.
Hope says oh please, please let it not be.
And the iridescent blue and green orb floats in the sky, and the sky hears nothing.
photo
photo by Sheri Dixon
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Thus Concludes Our Depressing Backward Glance
Sitting at my desk, looking out at the full moon rising over the creek, this place is so much a part of us now it's difficult to believe we've only been here shy of five months. Actually it's constantly surprising to find ourselves here at all.
Full moon, full circle, full plates, full hearts.
The following post seems so very far in our past that I can't hardly conjure the feel of it. I remember the weariness, the worry- those are my constant companions always. But the feeling of Home we had at the old house is gone- remembered fondly always- but gone.
Our boy is taller and stronger and infinitely more mature. He runs wild, free, and mostly clothed over his new domain with reckless abandon.
Ward is healing- every day better than the one before- and each one a blessing. When I allow a sliver of a thought regarding how close I came to losing him I truly, seriously, really can't stand it.
Joe's been north and back a few times but now instead of missing one place when he's in another, he's content to visit there and come Home to here. He's put down roots and put up a cabin of his own.
We've lost beloved pets and gained some new characters.
And we finally finally at long last built Home.
Here's what I wish. I wish I could reach backwards and envelop all of us- wounded and weary and worried last year- take us all in a huge all-encompassing bear hug, pat our collective heads and murmur "Shhh...it's going to be OK- I promise you".
I can't do that. But I can tell my family every day that it's OK- that we're OK.
I can take last year's memories and drop them gently in a little box in my head marked "Toxic and Fragile", and set them aside.
Full moon, full circle, full plates, full hearts...
May 16, 2010
Just An Ordinary Day- How Extraordinary
We got back into town a week ago yesterday, after over a month's forced interment in the Houston Medical District.
During that time, everything revolved around time spent at the hospital. Every minute, 24 hours a day 7 days a week, was ab-normal to our family. There were no daily farm chores, no big meals to be prepared- with just a kitchenette in the hotel room, there was no baking, roasting, broiling. The cleaning and linen laundry was done by the staff, our laundry was done in the hotel laundry room- no outside clothesline.
Most of our time was spent inside- the hospital, the hotel, the grocery store- and the times we made to spend outdoors were not fulfilling- there are no stars to be seen at night there, nor quiet to be had even surrounded by trees in a park.
The sounds, the smells, the oppressive closeness of millions of other people crammed into the cement jungle weighed heavily on us and we yearned for our little town of 756 people, the countless stars at night, open windows and the music of nature lulling us to sleep.
The first week we were home was devoted to catch-up, and acquainting ourselves with some new, although temporary realities.
"We'll have the home health people come give you a hand" seemed benign and helpful. What they don't tell you is that there is a nurse, a physical therapist, an occupational therapist, and a nutritionist- all with their own schedules that we must fit in between doctors' appointments and lab work.
I had a bi-monthly board meeting to prepare for and attend, and there were some pretty hefty changes at work that I had to institute, along with all the stuff that got way-sided while I was gone.
So this morning I got up at 7am and did what I most longed to do.
Not sleep in. Not put my feet up to read a book or watch a movie. Not go shopping or take a long bubble bath.
I did the morning chores, and delighted in the easy routine and the simple yet genuine pleasure of the animals at breakfast time.
I made a big brunch for my boys- pork chops, gravy, scrambled cheesy eggs and biscuits with lots of fresh ground coffee (cocoa for Alec), and delighted in the easy routine and the simple yet genuine pleasure of the boys at breakfast time.
I cleaned the guinea pigs and shuffled some around- separating out weanling babies and pregnant mommas- reflecting on almost 30 years of raising these endearing little critters.
I baked up a storm- 2 batches of triple fudge kickass brownies- one for us and one for a friend of ours who just had surgery on Wednesday, and an apple pie for the friend who ratted out which hospital the first friend would be at so I could surprise him and keep him company all day.
Cleaning the house is something that's not normally on my Favorite Things To Do list, but after being gone so long it's cathartic- possibly a form of "marking my territory" to go through the house room by room- making sure those few things that really bother me when they're undone get done correctly- in a way only a Mom knows how to do.
For dinner I made spaghetti sauce with italian sausages and mushrooms, and homemade garlic bread- heavy on the Parmesan cheese.
All the cooking took just about every pot and mixing bowl I own, and it was good- the fact that we don't own a dishwasher not a burden, since washing by hand lets me remember where I got each mixing bowl, and appreciate the heavy smoothness of my grandmother's rolling pin.
And all day long I tended to the new puppy we got Friday- taking her outside where she demonstrated her obvious brilliance by pottying like a good doggie each and every time. While a new puppy might seem outwardly like the very LAST thing our family needs at this particular juncture, Fizzgig is a welcome diversion for Alec, for Ward, and for me- she's as sweet as she is smart, and has snuggled her way into our hearts in less than three days.
So I sat down here at 10pm- fifteen hours after rising this morning- the only times I've sat down otherwise all day were to pee, and here I am.
I'm stiff, I'm exhausted, but after a week of being here, I finally feel like I'm home.
Posted by lunamother at 8:18 PM
Full moon, full circle, full plates, full hearts.
The following post seems so very far in our past that I can't hardly conjure the feel of it. I remember the weariness, the worry- those are my constant companions always. But the feeling of Home we had at the old house is gone- remembered fondly always- but gone.
Our boy is taller and stronger and infinitely more mature. He runs wild, free, and mostly clothed over his new domain with reckless abandon.
Ward is healing- every day better than the one before- and each one a blessing. When I allow a sliver of a thought regarding how close I came to losing him I truly, seriously, really can't stand it.
Joe's been north and back a few times but now instead of missing one place when he's in another, he's content to visit there and come Home to here. He's put down roots and put up a cabin of his own.
We've lost beloved pets and gained some new characters.
And we finally finally at long last built Home.
Here's what I wish. I wish I could reach backwards and envelop all of us- wounded and weary and worried last year- take us all in a huge all-encompassing bear hug, pat our collective heads and murmur "Shhh...it's going to be OK- I promise you".
I can't do that. But I can tell my family every day that it's OK- that we're OK.
I can take last year's memories and drop them gently in a little box in my head marked "Toxic and Fragile", and set them aside.
Full moon, full circle, full plates, full hearts...
May 16, 2010
Just An Ordinary Day- How Extraordinary
We got back into town a week ago yesterday, after over a month's forced interment in the Houston Medical District.
During that time, everything revolved around time spent at the hospital. Every minute, 24 hours a day 7 days a week, was ab-normal to our family. There were no daily farm chores, no big meals to be prepared- with just a kitchenette in the hotel room, there was no baking, roasting, broiling. The cleaning and linen laundry was done by the staff, our laundry was done in the hotel laundry room- no outside clothesline.
Most of our time was spent inside- the hospital, the hotel, the grocery store- and the times we made to spend outdoors were not fulfilling- there are no stars to be seen at night there, nor quiet to be had even surrounded by trees in a park.
The sounds, the smells, the oppressive closeness of millions of other people crammed into the cement jungle weighed heavily on us and we yearned for our little town of 756 people, the countless stars at night, open windows and the music of nature lulling us to sleep.
The first week we were home was devoted to catch-up, and acquainting ourselves with some new, although temporary realities.
"We'll have the home health people come give you a hand" seemed benign and helpful. What they don't tell you is that there is a nurse, a physical therapist, an occupational therapist, and a nutritionist- all with their own schedules that we must fit in between doctors' appointments and lab work.
I had a bi-monthly board meeting to prepare for and attend, and there were some pretty hefty changes at work that I had to institute, along with all the stuff that got way-sided while I was gone.
So this morning I got up at 7am and did what I most longed to do.
Not sleep in. Not put my feet up to read a book or watch a movie. Not go shopping or take a long bubble bath.
I did the morning chores, and delighted in the easy routine and the simple yet genuine pleasure of the animals at breakfast time.
I made a big brunch for my boys- pork chops, gravy, scrambled cheesy eggs and biscuits with lots of fresh ground coffee (cocoa for Alec), and delighted in the easy routine and the simple yet genuine pleasure of the boys at breakfast time.
I cleaned the guinea pigs and shuffled some around- separating out weanling babies and pregnant mommas- reflecting on almost 30 years of raising these endearing little critters.
I baked up a storm- 2 batches of triple fudge kickass brownies- one for us and one for a friend of ours who just had surgery on Wednesday, and an apple pie for the friend who ratted out which hospital the first friend would be at so I could surprise him and keep him company all day.
Cleaning the house is something that's not normally on my Favorite Things To Do list, but after being gone so long it's cathartic- possibly a form of "marking my territory" to go through the house room by room- making sure those few things that really bother me when they're undone get done correctly- in a way only a Mom knows how to do.
For dinner I made spaghetti sauce with italian sausages and mushrooms, and homemade garlic bread- heavy on the Parmesan cheese.
All the cooking took just about every pot and mixing bowl I own, and it was good- the fact that we don't own a dishwasher not a burden, since washing by hand lets me remember where I got each mixing bowl, and appreciate the heavy smoothness of my grandmother's rolling pin.
And all day long I tended to the new puppy we got Friday- taking her outside where she demonstrated her obvious brilliance by pottying like a good doggie each and every time. While a new puppy might seem outwardly like the very LAST thing our family needs at this particular juncture, Fizzgig is a welcome diversion for Alec, for Ward, and for me- she's as sweet as she is smart, and has snuggled her way into our hearts in less than three days.
So I sat down here at 10pm- fifteen hours after rising this morning- the only times I've sat down otherwise all day were to pee, and here I am.
I'm stiff, I'm exhausted, but after a week of being here, I finally feel like I'm home.
Posted by lunamother at 8:18 PM
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