North Brooklin, Maine

30 March 1973

Dear Mr. Nadeau:

As long as there is one upright man, as long as there is one compassionate woman, the contagion may spread and the scene is not desolate. Hope is the thing that is left to us, in a bad time. I shall get up Sunday morning and wind the clock, as a contribution to order and steadfastness.

Sailors have an expression about the weather: they say, the weather is a great bluffer. I guess the same is true of our human society—things can look dark, then a break shows in the clouds, and all is changed, sometimes rather suddenly. It is quite obvious that the human race has made a queer mess of life on this planet. But as a people we probably harbor seeds of goodness that have lain for a long time waiting to sprout when the conditions are right. Man's curiosity, his relentlessness, his inventiveness, his ingenuity have led him into deep trouble. We can only hope that these same traits will enable him to claw his way out.

Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.

Sincerely,
E. B. White

Weathering with you

Anybody else feel like the past week has lasted a month, maybe two? Sweet baby Jesus, the pace things are moving at. And it’s not as if the world has stopped moving. The war in Syria has entered its tenth year (10th!), the climate crisis is still on, and Trump has a chance of getting re-elected. It’s just a lot to process, everything that is going on, and people have to actively turn to brighter and lighter things on occasion to remain sane and function. A goldfinch found our bird feeder. Sakura season! The canals of Venice look like...what they ought to look like!! Spring equinox!!! Oh, and did you see those penguins? Adorable.

I work from home, so self-isolation is my default setting; but suddenly my workplace is teeming with people and activities I’m not used to, so resuming semi-normal workaday functions will take some time. Homeschooling, homework, news upon news after news, keeping in touch with family, friends and colleagues… It’s hard to concentrate. I asked my unflappable little brother (father of three) how he’s faring working from home with the kids. “I had to go sit in the car.” Whatever works, right?

For the young ones, this feels like a punishment. I want my friends and I want my hobbies and I want my freedom of movement and every other thing I’m used to. Well, you can’t have them right now, and that’s just the way it is. If my boys start grumbling, I’ll start telling them about their great-grandfather in WWII while their great-grandmother worked 36 hours a day back home and what the last trimester of pregnancy feels like to say nothing of giving birth. Stuff and stories like that. I know something closer to home and frame of reference might work better. But they’re neither little nor stupid, so I choose the big guns. Make ‘em count their blessings. Give them pause, perspective, you know. Works like a charm.

Some are upset their spring break got cancelled, their summer holiday plans are ruined, their online shopping is stuck somewhere and this doesn’t really concern them since they’re young and in good health and clubbing is a human right. How easy it is to start thinking that you’re entitled to things you’re simply accustomed to. Some are about to lose their jobs. Some could lose their homes. Some will lose their lives. Let’s see how humans and humanity rate on less easily quantifiable things such as cooperation and resilience now that we are all in this together. Kinda. Sorta. Not really. Some have withdrawn to an all-inclusive resort. Some are battling the elements beyond the gates. So many freelancers, single parents, the anxiety-ridden, homeless men/women/teens/families, struggling-to-begin-with artists/performing artists/artists period, small business owners, large families living in a shoebox of an apartment, refugees, people whose proverbial bootstraps are about to snap…destitute fellow humans for whom this is a disaster in every meaning of the word. If you have the means, seek ways to help, personally as a patron or through an organization. Support your local at every turn so that they’ll still be there when the smoke clears. If they’ve been forced to close shop for now, throw disposable income at them as soon as possible. This affects everyone directly and immediately or indirectly and over time. We are the market. We are the economy.

And who said there is no such thing as society? [Thatcher.] We are it. Nothing without each other. We are all part and parcel of this network we keep going and which keeps us busy and flowing. I know society seems like an amorphous beast because each individual is different, but when push comes to shove, we have one mission and only one mission: to protect one another. In that sense, we are in this together. You and I, and your lovely neighbors, and that cagey guy from work, and the cashier at the grocer’s, you know, that sweet old lady who’s worked there since the beginning of time, and your old teacher, the one with cancer, and everyone we cross paths with daily and will never cross paths with.

One microscopic little thing. That was all it took. How fragile, how vulnerable humans and our endeavors are. How I wish that something good comes out of this. Everyone keeps saying how this will change things for good, as in irrevocably. I hope good is the operative word. Because we will have to make a choice. Where do we go from here? How do we get there? What do we do about seemingly endless conflicts? What do we do about slowly but surely evolving crises? What do we do about threats to democracy and equality? How do we protect humanity from future pandemics? Every step we take will pave a path. Better watch where we’re going, dearest denizens.

Traveler, there is no road; the road is made as you go.
~Antonio Machado

Cool heads, warm hearts

The year is drawing to an end and we’re all exhausted and perhaps a bit fed up and even disgusted with how the world is shaping up. What is a girl/boy/your (pro)noun to do? Laugh? Cry? Drink? Sink? All tried and true coping mechanisms. That don’t change a thing or make you feel better in the long run. So what do we do, dearest denizens? We pledge ourselves to truth, justice and equality. We say no to despair and roads to nowhere and yes to solutions and ways forward. But where do you find such things? How do you get your hands on a roadmap like that; whatever it is you search and yearn for in this life?

Is it a case of not knowing enough about X that makes you jittery and uncomfortable? Do you find making decisions difficult if not impossible? Do you feel helpless, maybe even vulnerable, and not in a sensitive open to the world kind of way but in a sensitive open to exploitation sort of way?

My solution, or a solution: Read, dearest denizens. Voraciously. A snippet here, a chapter there. Broaden your mind, your horizons, without ever having to leave the comfort of your…wherever you prefer to read. Read about what fascinates you. Read about what baffles you. Read about what scares you. Read to discern fact-based information from biased BS. Read to know what others think on important matters and matters important to you. Read to understand how you are being steered. Ignorance is not a badge of honor, a clean slate, proof of innocence. It’s you being susceptible to disinformation, misleading and abuse. It’s you flailing in the wind, grabbing whatever extended arm seems sturdiest. It’s a choice you don’t make but one made for you and sold to you as your deepest wishes come true/greatest fears dissolved. Don’t fall for that, any of it. A little skepticism, a little self-preservation, goes a long way. Using your knowledge, putting knowledge into action, can change your life and the world.

For better or worse, now that’s another matter. Because knowledge is power. So arm yourself. There are, of course, numerous booby traps along the way. Everything from apophenia thru negativity bias to whataboutism. An alphabet soup to cloud your vision and judgment; we’re all susceptible to some degree because we’re human. But there’s an antidote for that, and I don’t mean a cure for being human. I mean the dangers of biases and propaganda techniques. And yes, it’s reading on them. Get to know the world and how it works. Get to know yourself and how your mind works. If you don’t know about the past/the world/yourself, how are you supposed to understand and navigate the future?

But…but…no one knows what’s going to happen in the next five minutes, let alone five years! Bingo, baby. That’s why it pays to be prepared. As prepared as one can be. [And there are leaders and governments out there not all that concerned with educating citizens properly, specially girls. Literacy is the key to agency. An illiterate person busy surviving is not likely to stir up trouble, not by oneself, or demand that their rights be recognized and respected.]

Of course, you can choose to go with the flow, to react when need be. But that usually means resorting to old tricks and solutions, treading water, hoping for the best…posting before thinking, screaming over others, general aggression and confusion that serves those who benefit from general aggression and confusion. (Hint: and I hope you already practice this, consistently: as the saying goes, every thought spoken out loud should clear three gates: is this true, is this kind, is this necessary? I'm still learning.) Your mind can be the worst sort of minefield, one you may end up navigating with a false self-image and deeply ingrained misconceptions as your compass. The world and everyone you encounter affects you; how they treat you, how they speak to you, whether they ignore you or acknowledge you. We spin a tale about who we are, and just like so much of information these days, it’s not always based on facts.
 
A snippet here and a chapter there amounts to tens of thousands of pages each year, and don’t tell me you don’t have time. Put the phone down, maybe? (Unless it’s your reading medium of choice, of course.) Books are sacred. They’re magic carpets. Time machines. Empathy builders. I’ve watched in horror as people mariekondo their libraries into extinction. And, sure, not all books merit another read and certain types of info need to be updated from time to time, but once a coronal mass ejection shuts down cyberspace, libraries and bookstores will become our temples. And those with know-how will show how.

For all the sound and fury, I still believe that most of us only want what’s good for all of us. So when you feel exasperated with the world, consider this: Most people are kind, decent and altruistic. Not saints but fellow humans trying to do more good than harm. They don’t shout about it, they don’t make a big production of it, they don’t do it for attention or accolades. And they sure as hell don’t do it for money. They just want to get on with their lives, this one round we’re given, and since they don’t know how long their round will be, they try to make the most of it, hoping to leave a meaningful mark instead of a stinking stain. This benevolent streak of ours, that’s what we should focus on. Isn’t that the meaning of life? According to Monty Python it is.

Try to be nice to people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking in, and try and live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations.

That’s my Christmas wish, sweetie darlings. For you and me and all of humanity.

P.S. Remember that eye-watering pain in my hip I once mentioned? I have a diagnosis and of course it’s bad news. Nothing I did, something I inherited. Can’t be cured, only controlled. All I can do is keep taking good care of myself. I will be in pain from time to time. I can live with that. So long as my feet carry me, my brain functions, and I wake up not dead, I’ll be fine. I’ll take my cues from a great-aunt in her late nineties. If you ask, she’ll tell you how she’s doing. But you won’t hear her complaining. C’est la vie, baby. And c'est de la merde. And this is the first, worst and last on this subject.

Human league

We celebrated Europe Day on Thursday. What do you mean you didn’t? What do you mean there’s nothing to celebrate?! I thought we agreed we’re neither cynics nor quitters, dearest denizens, hmm? Desperate times call for decisive measures. Desperate times are the perfect time to commit to core values. What do you mean you have trouble remembering what those are? Ah, I think I know what you’re thinking…

Money, numbers, trade cycles, corporate jargon…they permeate everything. The only value acknowledged seems to be market value. More and more you feel not like a citizen but a consumer, a customer. Well, sweetie darlings, if that’s the lingua franca of the world, let’s be really, terrifyingly demanding customers, locally, nationally, internationally. Our money, our choice. Demand to know where the money goes, when, why, what is done with it and who benefits from it. Cui bono? Who stands to gain? (And that is the question. And I don’t mean in a what’s-in-it-for-me kind of way; the treasury is not your piggy bank, it’s ours. I mean it in a do-decisions-benefit-the-99%-or-the-1% kind of way? Are we talking common good or private profit?) Demand transparency and accountability. Your money, your right.

Where people go politicians and policies ought to follow. Don’t sit out elections; local, national, EU level. Ever. Vote. Don’t lament the state of policy or politics or politicians, vote. Vote. Engage. Participate. Challenge. We put our representatives in place and we have the power to put them out of their jobs if they’re not doing theirs. Simple as that. Unless you live in Turkey, for instance, where the ruling party did not get the result they wanted in Istanbul so let’s have another round and see if we can’t get a result more to our liking. Now there’s a country sliding so fast under authoritarian rule they’ve stopped being subtle or sneaky about it. If they ever were, in hindsight. And speaking of hindsight, here’s a common reasoning error:

If the present state of things seems bad, things must have been so much better in the past. So the logical move is to turn back the clock at all costs, disregarding the fact that things weren’t that grand in the past and that the present is a vast improvement. Pining for a uniform culture is the greatest lie of all. But that’s what the rising tide of nationalism and nativism panders: a return to an imaginary past of imaginary glory inhabited by supposedly happy citizens living in a peaceful and prosperous homeland. Where everything and everyone is in agreement. Or else. Which sounds kind of like North Korea. And no one wants to live in North Korea. Not even North Koreans.

It’s an incremental process, stripping us of our rights and liberties, a chance to have our say, to dissent. It’s a local decision here and a legal precedent there. One move might not be alarming but string them and you start to see a pattern. Reason fights against reading too much into things, venturing into conspiracy territory, people tend to see patterns where none exist, and I mean they wouldn’t, would they? But they have. All over the world, time and time again. They most certainly would and could even in our neck of the woods, given a chance. How many rights and liberties can you surrender before you live in a totalitarian state? Better not let things go that far because the day you get your answer it will be too late.

And what is this grudge with government people seem to have? Is it a case of not understanding what the government or the EU is and what it does and what purpose it serves? A government works for the people and the common good. Your government works for you. The EU works for EU citizens. We, the people, make up that union. Its home is not in Brussels or Strasbourg but in every household in the Union. We are all part of it. We all have a part to play and we all have a say in how things are managed. And if you feel they’re being mismanaged then speak up, and vote. United we stand, divided we fall. It’s up to Europeans to make the stars on the European flag align, for our sake. And what is this beef with socialism the Trumps of this world have? That’s like saying this government will never work for all its citizens but…yeah, who does it work for then? 

[And dearest Americans, please try to distill the signals from the noise. You have an administration taking data and services designed to serve you all, paid for with your tax dollars, being suppressed and monetized by freeloading companies selling that same data and the very same services back to you for a profit. Oh, you don’t have to take my word for it. Ask the Department of Energy or Commerce what’s going on.]

The problems our home planet faces observe no borders. They climb walls, they swim channels, they cross oceans, they are airborne. They are our problems. Not something for someone else to take care of but ours. Nothing will get fixed if we start hiding behind walls, across channels and oceans thinking nothing can touch us now. Start thinking that and you’ll have another think coming. We need multilateral treaties and agreements, fact-based decision making, and cultural sensitivity. We need reminders of what we can achieve working together and what we stand to lose if we choose isolation and imperialism. 

What we really don’t need is a nostalgia trip into our not so distant and very violent past when our raison d’être was to go against one another. Just look at our track record. Those were some pretty shitty times. Because our worst instincts always lead us astray. They lead to bullying, blaming the victim, playing the victim, hatred, cruelty, and war. It never ends well. It always ends in death, devastation and centuries-long grudges. Humans at their worst. There’s no pride, glory or victory in being a human devoid of humanity, homo idioticus instead of sapiens. But it’s easy, isn’t it? It’s easier reacting, being angry, petty and vindictive than prudent, benevolent and respectful. The latter require an effort, a commitment, focus. But without that effort, commitment and focus, without a warm heart and a cool head, we are just homo idioticus about to get ours.

We are one another’s safety net, sweetie darlings. We are family, and like all families we have our disagreements and our screaming matches, our conflicting views and values, our frustrations and limitations. But when the chips are down, we ought to pull together to help one another. Because that’s what families do. That’s what friends do. That’s what humans do best.

Oh, you socialist…idealist…dingbat. Aww, thank you! There’s more where this came from. It was so good talking to you, human to human. Now let’s get back to work. Yours. Mine. Ours.

Dear fellow human

A midsummer night's dream

I dreamed I wrote a rather long and rambling essay on the economy, ecology and equality. Long because of the amounts of cause and effect and problems and solutions I managed to cram into that one piece, rambling because of the myriad associations, the links and bridges I managed to build. Full of pathos, I went from global warming to refugees to immigration, from nationalism to fascism to racism, from global trade to global warming and back to refugees again. My theory of everything.

Too bad I don't remember half of it but I do remember feeling a strange but strong sort of relief getting it all down in writing, as if I hadn't quite known what I thought on the subject before I wrote about it and had now laid down a burden, the anxiety that comes with the feeling you don't understand the world around you, the hows and whys, the implications, the consequences. In my dream I had managed to collect my thoughts, observations and opinions, arrange them in a well-structured manner and lay them out coherently and elegantly. (One can dream, right?)

He built this garden for us, they were called, my nocturnal notes, a slight but quite deliberate misquote of a Lenny Kravitz song, I presume, since I opened with a picture of our garden, a garden I gladly work on but one my husband has had a heavy hand in creating. So he doesn't bring me flowers every day. He built me a garden. I realized this is the longest I've stayed put, and not the least because of the garden that grows around me, a house that's like the tropics in the arctic, the peace and happiness I feel in both.

Who has the right to peace and happiness, or prosperity? On what terms? On whose terms? Who promised life would be easy, fair or happy, a man once asked when the question came up, a man who'd never suffered or struggled, who'd never been and never would be any type of minority, an outcast, disenfranchised, displaced, the underdog. No one had ever denied him, crossed him, belittled him, stomped on him or stood up to him. I understood his question. I just don't think he did. I don't think he gave a second thought to where his wealth came from, to whom or what he owed it to.

Taking a close, critical, honest look at most anything usually makes you focus on the flaws and the problems in something, then promptly sign up for a transcendental meditation class, learn mindfulness, go buy one of those adult coloring books, whatever takes your mind off the fact the world is a pretty fucked up place getting worse by the second, now that you really look at it and think about it, so better not look too closely, better concentrate on things closer to home such as you, yourself and, well, you, Jon Lajoie was right: Fuck Everything. Wait, what?

One of my university professors believed cultures evolved in cycles, all cultures following the same cycle but at a different pace. All clashes between nations, cultures, creeds and even individuals stemmed from our conflicting values and views, our place on the cycle, and our need to impose those values and views, our will, on others. I've seen such forces in action, determinism, relativism and entitlement at its worst. I've seen evidence to the contrary, kindness and compassion and selflessness at its best.

Maybe authors and artists can't change the world but they show us what it's like to live in it, what it feels like to be human, living under the same sun and moon but very different stars.

Sisters are doin' it for themselves

After the annus horribilis that was last year, I was looking forward to an uneventful rest of the decade. (Okay, my first Romantica got published. That was pretty fantabulous.) No such luck. My brother-in-law's partner and my sister-in-law's mother were diagnosed with breast cancer this summer. One has been given a clean bill. The other, well, we'll see.

On Monday I find out that my father had a health scare over the weekend, a heart incident. My brother and sister had already given him an ass-chewing so I tried to bite my tongue, but seriously, he'd had all kinds of symptoms for three weeks (!!!). No, s e r i o u s l y , gents, what gives? And I'm sorry if this sounds like a gross generalization, chew my ass if you feel like it, but in my experience when men get sick it's either a big production over nothing or they admit they need medical attention when their heads fall off and even then they're going, "It's nothing." Death grunts. "Really, it's nothing." More death grunts. I feel for the hospital staff; he's being absolutely impossible to treat or reason with, I'm sure.

The things that have been going through my mind this week...I'm getting palpitations just thinking about it. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. We need to talk about something else. How about some smart, brave, wise, reasonable women. As you may have heard, the Nobel Peace Prize for 2011 was divided between Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Leymah Gbowee and Tawakkul Karman, "for their non-violent struggle for the safety of women and for women's rights to full participation in peace building work." The Norwegian Nobel Committee noted that "[w]e cannot achieve democracy and lasting peace in the world unless women obtain the same opportunities as men to influence developments at all levels of society."

That's what women have been trying to tell the world for a couple of centuries now. And now we have the portrait of Alfred Nobel in relief to back our demands. But seriously, it is easy to forget in the relatively free and egalitarian part of the world how disenfranchised, and I do mean stripped of both rights and dignity, many women still are. Far too many women. It is for these women, women and girls with no voice or visibility, that the three winners and prizes such as these bring hope.

Got another brave and tireless woman for you, one who's doing something to leave the world in a better shape than she found it, brought to you via The Rejectionist. La Rejectionista has cooked up a buffet of a fundraiser to help her friend Emily, a buffet bound to tease the taste buds of readers and writers alike. The first item is already up for grabs so hurry! How will you know she hasn't booked a winter vaca and this isn't one of those last-chance-to-send-your-dollar fundraisers? I'm sorry but who vacations in Nepal? Really, peeps, jeez. Give the cynic the day off and have a look at those items, alone worth the price of admission, surely! 

I do love a woman, a man too, naturally, who doesn't lament the state of things but sets out to do something about them. Yes, I know, you could have been a contender, start a clinic from scratch, save the planet, it's a done deal, really, save for the fact you don't have the time or the expertise. Well, Emily does, and you can play a part. Major role, bit part, walk-on, the choice is yours.

No, serious like cancer, everything counts. As in everything. Maybe this week you'll do one daily coffee run instead of two. That pick-me-up pretzel? That's what the coffee is for. If it's not picking you up, it's either decaf and explain to me why you're having it or you're not getting enough rest. Enough said, you get my drift. When I start thinking I've got nothing to give, I give it another think and all kinds of possibilities open up. Not only are you leaving the world a better place than you found it, you're none the poorer for it. Do the math. None. You can take that to the bank.

I would like to sign off by reminding my dearest denizens duty calls me to step out of the den this weekend so no Frisky Friday this Friday. Doesn't mean you can't still have one, you know, not-so-subtle hint hint. I would also like to remind the ladies out there of the importance of monthly breast self-exams. You can find instructions on frickin' YouTube if you don't know how to do it, so there is no excuse. None. And gentlemen, please, it's the 21st century. Your dick won't fall off if you admit you don't feel one hundred percent one hundred percent of the time. Admit it. I dare you. Damn right I'm upset. I'm too young for this shit. Don't make it worse now. There's an army inside you. An axis of light and wisdom and truth and beauty. Mobilize it. Conspire for good.

Until next week, sweetie darlings. Behave.

Everything counts

Look into my eyes. Olive green or olive brown? Olive green or olive brown? Look closer, deeper, deep into my eyes. That's it.

Let yourself relax. Lose yourself in the insurmountable urge to skip the trip to the coffee shop/bookstore/grocer's and donate what you would have spent to the response to the floods in Pakistan. The greatest humanitarian crisis in recent history, remember?

Not again, you groan then mumble something about compassion fatigue and the economy, and start to look away. Don't. Do. Not. Keep looking, look into my eyes. It's okay. Help is at hand. Relief is only a few clicks away, whether you are in the States, the UK, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, or anywhere else for that matter.

You will soon feel the helplessness easing, the heaviness lifting. You have done what you can. That's enough. That is plenty.

As you were. Or as you wish things would be.