Music. To my ears....

For the past few years I'd felt the need to be constantly paying attention; news radio for the win.

And I became comforted over the bond of shared trauma I was discovering.

We all, internationally, were losing people to Covid.

Every country faces turbulence, at some point.

Violence. Is. Everywhere.  Not just here.

I found it a strength, this bond, and I sought it out for my own insecurities and fears.

It's group therapy.

It's advice columns.

It's late night satire and stand up comedy.

And this mutual suffering was what helped me relax my shoulders, pop another 'stress mint'* and continue on with my day.  Mostly.  It didn't always work as quickly as I would've liked.  And I didn't always remember to group myself in with others, and felt the weight of reality alone.  Then one day, I changed the channel.

I'm new to classical music, and whatever was playing that day filled the space and I recognized it immediately as a balm.  As something so starkly different from what I had been bathing in.  I wanted to close my eyes to take it in but I was driving so I just kept going, and absorbing, and allowed it to remove me from the tension and divisiveness of what had become normalcy.  And something happened to my need to find comfort in a similarly suffering group.  In this music I didn't hear an orchestra of musicians playing together, rather I felt individuals contributing to a shared piece of work.  I envisioned the sacrifice of practice and failure.  The calloused fingers, the aching backs, the pride of their contribution.  When I hear an instrumental piece, I become one with each individual.  Because that is what I am.  I am just one.

Of course, I knew ABOUT classical music before I heard it that day.  The chick in Ghostbusters II plays a cello, right? (That is honestly what comes to mind when I think musician, which is grossly unfair to my exceptionally talented pianist of a sister.)  Also, I was in school band for ages!  Why now would music be affecting me in a different way?

Maybe it's a need to see the value of individual contribution, however small.

Maybe I'm searching for the building of a masterwork, amidst so much tearing down.

Maybe it's because in order to suffer with someone, I need someone else to be suffering and I just can't bear that thought anymore.

Or just maybe a part of me decided that my suffering would be more valuable as conviction.

I've gone back to news radio.  I can't seem to turn away from it most days, always on the edge of my seat to know what's happening next.  And I know the rest of the world, country, city, town, family is paying attention, too.  I still love stand up specials and I habitually take in late night satire a few times a week as I appreciate the effort involved in making us laugh at the pain and fear we're sharing.  The contribution being made.  But the classical station is also in my 'favorites'.  One button away from the day's latest updates.  And that's why my shoulders don't feel so much weight anymore.  It's why I'm okay with my one-ness not being much of anything to the world.  And it's why I chuckle at the memory of holding up that metal triangle, so many years ago, awaiting my cue to contribute to the whole.

*Stress mints.  I've mentioned them before.  I keep a pocket full of Lifesavers individually wrapped mints at all times.  I buy 3 lb bags of them every few months. When I feel tension, I grab a mint, unwrap, inhale the smell and pop it in my mouth; all in less than a second.  I'm very susceptible to scent, aromatherapy, and I immediately sense calm with the inhale.  

Petals

I walk a path of petals

While parallel

They, barefoot, tread on stone.

The only trait in common

Is that neither of us

Walks our path alone.

On a soft leaf

There's no consequence for stumbling.

No blood is spilled as recompense for time.

Stone, though, is unforgiving.

Steps forward punished

As if they were a crime.

My path is laid before me

And we chit and chat

Of this and that

As petal bearers adorn

Where my steps should fall.

While the stone sisters

Lift each other's heads,

Dry each other's tears,

And continue forward;

As pain does not diminish when you stall.

I ask my ladies,

"Shall we share my petals to their path?"

They reply,

"What of those who follow in your steps?

How bear their feet if luxuries you waste?

So generous of you to consider but come,

Let's lead ahead of them in haste."

As time is tested, as sure as the petal path

before me is leading,

I think of the sisters.

Stronger, forging, creating their way,

And I remember the excuse of my luxury

Not to be wasted

On feet already bleeding.

The Upside (or) How to Carry On Into Tomorrow

 To begin, I won’t be patronizing you with any ‘to do tips' of positivity.  We all know the basics, and it’s getting darker outside every day here in America.  (Is it possible to overdose on calm mints?)  But this is where we are for now.  It feels as if we have no control over whether we’re going to be safe in our previously safe spaces.  This is Covid.  This is BLM tumult.  This is uncertainty in the U.S. and it has become the norm.  Is it our fault?  Yeah, some of it is but if you’re reading this then it’s not likely you’re high enough on the blame scale to really carry too much of the responsibility (no offence). 

 So for starters,  ( I said no ‘to do’ tips, so the following are firmly within the realm of ‘take action’ guidelines)....

1) Cut yourself some slack.  Are you among the group that  ‘Did not vote for this’, but did vote for him?  Then make sure you are personally a part of the fight against him!  You don’t have to pretend you’re something you’re not to try to right this boat.  Bring the discussion to your church, your neighbor, your family members.  Our party divisions are a part of the problem, but they don’t have to be.  Upside is you can repurpose your MAGA hat and use it as a collection tin, for starters.  Humility, it’s what's for breakfast.  

2) Cut that other guy some slack.  It’s done, and it shouldn’t have been but it is.  So here we all are, in the kiddy pool full of sewage wading side by side.  ( Note the ‘author’s choice’ to give you a sloshy poop filled inflatable pool as a visual.  I wanted it to be relatable. [ the pool, hopefully not the sloshy poop])  No one is going to be immune to what we have in store for us.  No one will feel free, most won't feel safe, and all will feel ashamed by what this country will become. And I’m sorry I’m stating this future as fact but optimism doesn’t delete reality.  Upside is I might be proven wrong.

3) Tomorrow will come.  With or without our contribution, it will come.  It’s most likely to be even darker tomorrow, and your contribution (like mine) will not be able to change it by much.  We can be a part of all of tomorrow's contributors, though.  And then we can contribute something the next day.  Do you write?  Please put it out there!  Draw?  Do it!  Are you rich?  Distribute them dollas!!!   Macrame?  Crank out those plant holders! The time to be timid is past us, put out the song you’ve been working on.  Our country needs us to be the best versions of who we are right now!  How can a macrame plant holder help America, you may quite reasonably be asking?  Never underestimate the value of a person’s time.  Anything done with passion has unique power.  Personal sacrifice is what Americans are known for!  The American dream has always come at some cost.   At this point the question of ‘what do I have to offer?’ needs to go hand in hand with ‘what do I have to lose?’. Upside is, the world will remember the fight the Americans put up, should our country go down.  And our plants will look nice.

Kindness of Strange

To be a strange kind

a kind strange

takes from the soft heart 

a strong will

Awareness

the ability to know

knowing to act

acting to change

pain

fear

the fear of their pain

too much to relieve 

circles back

to act

Understanding

to be only one 

is never to be only

one voice

one response 

one donation

of your sweat

to the 

whole 

but 

a part

a piece

a step forward

away from the dark

for someone to see the light you know.

Survival

as a strange kind

a kind strange

is to know

exposure

hope

no armor

to speak

no motive

to seek but

that of adding to the mercy

my strangeness.

A Perfect Good

 A Perfect Good [uh per-fict good]

Noun,

1. The concept of something being positive in a way that is untaintable or incorruptible.

(BTW, don’t bother looking this up as I’m pretty sure I've solidified this as a reality by sheer willpower, and created the word ‘untaintable’ in the process)

*A Perfect Good is not universally so but is personal, subjective.

ex/ Puppy breath would not be a Perfect Good to someone fitfully afraid of dogs.  To a great deal of us however…puppy breath!!

*A Perfect Good can often give that ‘unconsciously close your eyes to steep in the moment’ effect.

Put simply, a Perfect Good is something positive (warm, comforting, smile-inducing, heart-lifting…) that no one can take away from you or pervert.  It’s perfectly good.  It’s safely yours.  Most notably however,  it makes you notice the NOW.  The present.  

This is where I casually throw in that I am naturally positive.  It’s not something I have to try to be, or work at being, or find a way to be.  It’s my natural default.  Still, I’ve been in dark places after experiencing trauma, but I’ve so far always reset to default after I’ve healed or mourned.  And through all these years of life I've come to acknowledge that I am weird. (It’s okay, we all have our thing.) So my empathy, along with my love for writing,  is something else I’d like to share. 

 A Perfect Good is so evident to me.  I see them right away!  They might not be so obvious to others.  To you.  I think that’s normal.  But they are there for you to notice. Their power is in your acknowledgement of them.   And damn, do they have power!  So if you don’t have the natural inclination to highlight warm fuzzy moments with Empathy-Vision (patent pending) use this blog as a reminder that they are there.  That’s really all you have to know about them in order for them to do their work.