Current Photo Friday theme: Signs
From 2016. Oh, the things I could say…
Who goes there? Please leave comments so (An Aries Knows)!
Current Photo Friday theme: Signs
From 2016. Oh, the things I could say…
I picked this up from one of my favorite stores when I was out shopping recently. The small animals part is obvious, but my mind was also very much on the children and their teacher who were trapped in the cave in Thailand. The morning I woke up to read the news that all were out safely was such a glorious relief from all the other news I read every day.
It’s certainly not a stretch to guess that the children of refugees in this country who are separated from their parents never leave my mind. This is an administration that is indifferent and cruel. It’s led by people who lack compassion and empathy for anyone who doesn’t fall into their category of “people like us.”
I’m relieved to be as distant from them as I can be emotionally, physically, and psychologically. I don’t hate them, even if they cause me feelings of deep distrust, dismay, and even despair. Despite what someone said about me to a child one time, I don’t hate people. If I didn’t love people, they couldn’t break my heart. I would rather be constantly doing the work to mend the broken pieces than to have no heart. I want always to live without committing any act of cruelty toward the most vulnerable among us. As I’ve said before on this blog, if ever I err, I hope I always err on the side of kindness–the third part of the little St Francis card that travels with me everywhere now.
On June 28, 2018, a mass shooting occurred at the offices of The Capital Gazette, an Annapolis, Maryland, newspaper. The gunman killed five employees with a 12-gauge Mossberg 500 pump-action shotgun and injured two others as they tried to escape. The gunman had a contentious history with the paper and had previously sued them.
The dead were:
• Gerald Fischman (61 years old)
• Rob Hiaasen (59)
• John McNamara (56)
• Rebecca Smith (34)
• Wendi Winters (65)
“The Kidnapping of Democracy: Balance of Power”
ETA: The “more” started the next day. Old people know shit. 😉
These little 6-inch by 6-inch canvases are now going to help my fractured soul. They are part of my new series called “The Kidnapping of Democracy.”
“The Kidnapping of Democracy: Red Hen”
“The Kidnapping of Democracy: Do Not Cross”
If you follow me on Instagram, excuse me for repeating myself. There’s a reason.
Recently I began getting emails from Barnes & Noble about my Nook eReader. I just looked back through my blog and discovered we’ve been together for eight years. As B&N told me, they are no longer going to service and update this first generation Nook. They offered me a big discount to get a new eReader, and I chose a Nook GlowLight. It was delivered a few days ago, I powered it on, and my B&N library is at my fingertips. My Kobo library–the books I’ve purchased from Murder By The Book through Kobo–are saved on my old Mac. At some point, I need to move those onto this new device.
I needed to get out tonight after a long day of work, so I decided to visit Barnes & Noble in my old ‘hood and look for a cover for the new Nook. When I saw this one, as I said on Instagram, “It’s like the artist knows me.”
The dog, the book titles, the rainbow, the elephant and lion on the shelf. I needed to come home and research the artist whose name was on the inside of the cover, which I couldn’t read in subdued lighting.
I detoured to Tim’s where I grappled in conversation with some of the things that make me feel like I’m going crazy. They are not things in my personal life or my work life. They are things going on in the world, and they are causing me mental, emotional, and physical suffering.
Then I came home, sat at my computer, and found the artist. Her name is Anne Bentley, and I went to her website and looked through her gallery, and every painting was like finding a new friend. Then I noticed that great little icon that meant she has an Instagram account, so I updated my Instagram post and provided her name and the name of her Instagram account and expressed my joy at finding more of her work.
And she commented her thanks! But it’s Anne Bentley who needs to be thanked. I’m going to share verbatim the text I sent Tim.
The artist of my Nook cover just posted a comment on my Instagram. I am thrilled. And her art has made what’s wrong click. We are creative. We cope and comment and react through what we create. I am not creating. I am not finding the outlet for my voice that I need in horrible times. I don’t have time to write novels. I have to find a way to create that speaks my hurt and frustration. I’m watching people destroy and mock my most profoundly held ideals. And I can’t just not care or not react. It makes the pain inside too powerful. And then pain is like a disease eating away at your very soul. It can kill you in the end.
Everything I just said to you is going on my blog. A step toward honest self-expression.
I’m not sure how my creativity will manifest itself. I only know that it has to. I’m so grateful for the writers and painters and poets and songwriters and performers and photographers who nourish my soul. It’s my time to join them at the feast.
A not so tiny Tuesday when a little Nook cover from a very big artist provides me an epiphany.
Tom and I have been married longer than a lot of the people I work with have been alive. THAT IS WEIRD.
Debby had already eaten, but Tim joined us out for dinner. It was a nice way to unwind after a busy, rainy day.
Later, I read some news before I finished my work. Twenty seconds into a video recording, I put my head on my desk and cried. I don’t understand–I don’t WANT to understand–the cruelty that is on display in this country daily. The outrage I feel over injustice and dishonesty, avarice and inhumanity, that is my mother inside my heart. Inside my head are the gifts of my father: his perspective, his reassurance that things have been this bad and worse and can and will be better. We study our history; we create our destiny.
When I’m at my most fragile, that’s when they seem closest. I know there are good and wise people like them still. Tom has been one of those in my life for more than three decades–thirty of those years married.
My brain’s jumble over the last week included in no particular order: D Day Normandy my father patriotism vs false patriotism veterans and the people who use and misuse them liars bullies Robert F Kennedy Mohammed Ali Martin Luther King Jr. civics the Constitution the Declaration of Independence surviving the madness of monarchs despots and dictators a new generation of doers and dreamers Puerto Rico depression as the thief of who and what we love Colin Kaepernick hurricanes heartbreak hope peacemakers dogs who are tortured and dogs who are saved stealing children from their parents keeping children safe truth-tellers seeing past the moment happy and decent young people and their children planting your feet on the right side of history even when it’s uncomfortable especially when it’s uncomfortable bad things/good people…
This week marked the 50th anniversary of Robert F. Kennedy’s assassination. On my car radio, I heard a story about his speech the day he heard that Martin Luther King, Jr. had been assassinated. He was scheduled to speak at a campaign rally in Indianapolis that night. He was urged not to speak. People were uneasy about the mood of crowds and his safety. Having himself lost his brother to an assassin less than five years earlier, it couldn’t have been easy for him to stand at the microphone that night. He scrapped his prepared remarks and gave what many historians say was one of the greatest speeches of the century. Unlike other cities, Indianapolis did not have riots that night, and many attribute it to Kennedy’s speech. I listened to it in its entirety, and there are too many reasons to count for why it left me sobbing in my car.
“I have bad news for you, for all of our fellow citizens, and people who love peace all over the world, and that is that Martin Luther King was shot and killed tonight.
Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice for his fellow human beings, and he died because of that effort.
In this difficult day, in this difficult time for the United States, it is perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are and what direction we want to move in. For those of you who are black–considering the evidence there evidently is that there were white people who were responsible–you can be filled with bitterness, with hatred, and a desire for revenge. We can move in that direction as a country, in great polarization–black people amongst black, white people amongst white, filled with hatred toward one another.
Or we can make an effort, as Martin Luther King did, to understand and to comprehend, and to replace that violence, that stain of bloodshed that has spread across our land, with an effort to understand with compassion and love.
For those of you who are black and are tempted to be filled with hatred and distrust at the injustice of such an act, against all white people, I can only say that I feel in my own heart the same kind of feeling. I had a member of my family killed, but he was killed by a white man. But we have to make an effort in the United States, we have to make an effort to understand, to go beyond these rather difficult times.
My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He wrote: ‘In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.’
What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence or lawlessness; but love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or they be black.
So I shall ask you tonight to return home, to say a prayer for the family of Martin Luther King, that’s true, but more importantly to say a prayer for our own country, which all of us love–a prayer for understanding and that compassion of which I spoke.
We can do well in this country. We will have difficult times; we’ve had difficult times in the past; we will have difficult times in the future. It is not the end of violence; it is not the end of lawlessness; it is not the end of disorder.
But the vast majority of white people and the vast majority of black people in this country want to live together, want to improve the quality of our life, and want justice for all human beings who abide in our land.
Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world.
Let us dedicate ourselves to that, and say a prayer for our country and for our people.”
I can’t get this quote out of my head:
“This is the second time in eight months that we’ve gone through tragedy,” Rep. Randy Weber, the area’s Republican congressman, said at a news conference, noting Hurricane Harvey’s assault on the area last summer.
I would let my house be flooded 10 more times if it would bring back these ten murdered students and teachers. I know that people lost loved ones in the floods, and my heart aches for them. But a hurricane didn’t “assault” us. It dumped trillions of gallons of water on us.
Not comparable to human slaughter caused by a teenager with guns.
May 18, 2018, school shooting, Santa Fe High School in Santa Fe, Texas
Cynthia Tisdale, 63 (teacher)
Glenda Ann Perkins, 64 (teacher)
Jared Conard Black, 17
Shana Fisher, 16
Christian Riley Garcia, 15
Aaron Kyle McLeod, 15
Angelique Ramirez, 15
Sabika Sheikh, 17 (an exchange student from Pakistan)
Christopher Stone, 17
Kimberly Vaughan, 14