Cheer up, the worst is yet to come!

TGIF, sweetie darlings, how is everyone holding up in this grave new world of ours? Yes, I'm referring to him, and that one nation under Don, and the Lord of the Flies guys. (I'll explain in a bit.) No man should have that much power. At least you shouldn't give it to someone so self-serving, so undeserving. His mob-boss-like antics work against him, though. Overreaching and/or going all-out un-American will backfire. But first he'll have to double down on the lies to keep people eating his bullshit like it's chocolate mousse. That'll just make everything worse; the lying, the gaslighting, the total demonization of anyone working and speaking against them. Insulating their base is what they need to keep doing, and that'll just make everything worse; the confrontation, the hatred, the vitriol.

And now we're headed to an even more fact-free Facebook, and possibly both the platform previously known as Twitter and currently known as Shitter and TikTok falling into the greasy palms of a Lord of the Flies. (I'll explain in a bit.) That'll just make everything worse; the bot armies and other propaganda machines, the trolling and harassment, the disinformation and miscellaneous calculated distractions. Millions upon millions follow these liars on social media. That's their reality, but you don't have to defer to it or be colonized by it, you can reject it, always. Tens of millions voted for him, tens of millions didn't. Remember that. He got elected on lies, fears, gaslighting and disinformation, but he'll have to govern in the real world where we shouldn't inflate his influence or give him more power than he actually has; reach and clout works both ways.

So just do your own thing, keep living in the real world where hundreds upon hundreds of millions don't share those views or worldview, don't believe the lies being told or approve the policies being introduced. Reject the reality and future they offer, if it's not to your liking, and substitute your own. Go in search of safer and saner communities, alternative social media platforms and ways of communicating. Focus on productive groups and forums that are interested in more than barking and snarling and foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs; and right-wing rabies is all the rage, on X in particular. Don't validate them by participating. Going on those platforms expecting civility is like going to a rodeo expecting to see dressage.

If you insist on staying on, think of the trolls and extremists as deer flies: a nuisance for sure, but in the grand scheme of things, on a global scale, just a bunch of angry buzzing. Loud and abundant if all you are counting or looking for is flies, but easy enough to shield yourself against. Don't worry too much about having to deal with him, with them, those platforms, all of it. Turn the thought around: They will have to deal with us, and we are legion, after all.

Dogs, horses, flies...good god, woman, these are people, fellow humans! Yes, they are, aren't they, adults who should know better than to trust someone who has already shown them, repeatedly, who he is and what he stands for, so please do not plead ignorance when he betrays you. The algorithms made you do it? They try, and you should know better than to trust something that has already shown you, repeatedly, what it is and what it does, so please do not plead ignorance when it makes you angry, leaves you feeling agitated even while you're offline, or you end up radicalized in some way. You are not obligated to participate. There's no law that says you must. It's your life, your precious time, a competition for your attention, certainly, but you still get to choose where you direct it and how you conduct yourself, online and off.

Hold the line, Maria Ressa would say. Do not obey in advance, Timothy Snyder would say. Strength in numbers is on our side, I say. It doesn't have to be this way.

A cure for wellness

So. Monday. So. Did you? Enjoy your weekend? Yes? No? Had a wonderful time? Seemed to have no time, for anything, when in fact you were busy doing everything? Where do the hours go?

I asked a group of friends I trust to give me an honest answer how they were feeling. The results of this totally unscientific questionnaire? Respondents reported feeling tired, anxious, stressed or unmotivated, or some mixture of the above. Work issues, family issues, health issues, financial issues, global issues, all got a mention. And time. Demands on their time. Clocks, calendars, days, hours.

We talk about the importance of self-care. What does that mean? Self-care as opposed to what? Self-harm? Self-indifference? I pleaded with you (as 2022 ended) to take good care of yourself because isn't everything we do an act of self-care, or if not care then harm and/or indifference? How we eat and sleep, how we act and react, how we care or don't care for our mental and physical wellbeing, personal and social and work relationships. Everything, every little thing we don't even pay attention to most of the time because there doesn't seem to be time, affects us. But what is it that afflicts us, really? Is it the feeling of not being in control of everything everywhere all the time? (Never gonna happen.) Is it the feeling that we've been programed to function in a way we don't recall signing up for and are at odds with? (Yes, that feeling.) Is it the feeling that the more efficient and streamlined and productive we become the more we are expected to do and accomplish? (This.) And don't get me wrong, I know you need a goal and a plan or you'll probably get nothing done, but all this quantifying and qualifiers, information overload and efficiency requirements, the sheer speed and volume of things... Where does it end? How much is enough? Nothing ever seems to be.

Wellness is a trillion-dollar industry. They heard our plea, they smell our fear, they've commercialized it and they've monetized it. And sure, hooray, okay, we are looking after ourselves, or our employers are, finally, good for us. But what is this? What are we doing? Aren't we just tackling the symptoms we suffer from and not the system making us sick and tired? I fully understand those demanding lesser hours, a four-day workweek, quiet quitters; they fully understand this is madness and we are mad to go along with it because there is no end to it and we are not benefiting from it, far from it.

Have you reached terminal velocity yet? What are you gonna about it? What are we gonna do about it? Resist, or continue being abused? 

And if you've already surrendered, by which I mean conceded defeat and admitted you are a mortal and not a machine and have stopped demanding of yourself and have stopped allowing others to demand from you what you would never dream requiring others to do to prove they are worthy of walking this earth, good for you. Good for you, sweetie darling.

The never-ending story

It’s been a tough year, don’t you think? What do you mean it’s only January? My point exactly! It’s only January and this year has already met all my nonexistent expectations. What do you mean that makes no sense? What in this world makes sense anymore anyway?!

War, the cost of living crisis, climate crisis, food crisis, displacement due to war and the climate crisis and the food crisis. They are all connected; the time of peace dividends is over. And what of liberal democracy? Is liberal democracy on the way out? It is if you ask the likes of Putin, Xi, Erdogan, Orbán... But what is the alternative they offer? Authoritarianism. Submitting to the state and the man or party in charge. Freedom equals chaos in their vernacular so they take away your rights and they take away that freedom. The freedom to speak freely, freedom to dissent, freedom to demand something other than what the man or party offers.

Having said that, have you noticed how benevolence hasn’t lost to virulence and violence? Despite every vile thing that is going on; not in all the thousands upon thousands of years humans have inhabited this planet, living, loving, killing and oppressing one another? Ruthlessness or the right of the strongest still haven’t wiped out softer tendencies such as kindness and altruism. Little wonder, since only so-called strongmen value ruthlessness and privileges won through oppression and exploitation. Most of us see those tendencies for what they are: malevolence. Evil. Then again most of us tend to value benevolence over malevolence and kindness over ruthlessness. We long for goodness. We expect goodness. And we practice it.

What else is there? What else can you do? The alternative is hurtful and unhelpful, a ruse to pit us against one another. Hate makes you ruthless and it makes you cruel, so whenever you feel hate raise its ugly head please step back and take a deep breath. Don’t let baser instincts, your reptile brain, get the better of you. That’s emotion, a feeling, one you shouldn’t ride lightly.   

And furthermore, strongman is a misnomer. No one is more thin-skinned and afraid of criticism and opposition than a supposed strongman. Overcompensating oafs who take things personally and attack people instead of problems or who blame other people for problems they themselves have created and/or are responsible for solving, that’s what they are. Infallible to boot, like the Pope. So akin to…gods, then? Now there’s a dangerous and deranged belief. All-powerful they are not, not in a literal sense. Realizing an ambition without doing harm is something no authoritarian or totalitarian leader has ever achieved. Of course, not doing harm is not all that important to them. But it is for the rest of us. That means most of us.

Cooperation and mutual respect, that’s what has kept us afloat and that’s what keeps “strongmen” up at night. What if I can’t beat them into submission, bully them until they break down, back off and shut up? What they don’t understand is that all those soft tendencies do not equal weakness, quite the opposite. They are the hard core of humanity, something cultural evolution hasn’t managed to snuff out. It takes guts to be open and vulnerable. It takes dogged determination to face insurmountable odds. It takes a brave soul to go against someone who doesn’t care if you live or die, a system that wants to crush you. It takes courage to do what you dread.

My point? I’m sure I had one...sorry if I lost you along the way. Oh well, oh hell, it’s been a long and tough year. Shall we go enjoy the weekend, whatever counts as R & R in your books? Happy Saint Sebastian’s (or Dia de São Sebastião, the patron saint of Rio de Janeiro)!

Peace out.

Love…thy will be done

There’s a beautiful fullish moon in the sky, just in time for the winter solstice. The snow we were promised a while back never came, but there’s still a chance we’ll get a white Christmas; maybe just an inch, a few centimeters of snow, but a crisp and clean backdrop all the same.

How do you intend to spend the next two weeks, dearest denizens? On the road? In a onesie? Omicron is threatening to gatecrash every home, workplace, and community, and governments, city fathers, mothers, and second cousins will have no choice but to reinstate restrictions and lockdowns in the hopes of buying time and saving lives. It’s the ghost of Christmas past in a new robe.

How much more? How much longer? How are we supposed to cope? I wish I knew, sweetie darlings. All I know is we can’t give in to the anger and frustration so many of us are feeling, and for valid, perfectly understandable and human reasons. One of the side effects of Covid seems to be the erosion of manners. And I know it’s always something, always has been. O tempora! O mores! Rock ‘n’ roll corrupted the boomers, television ruined my generation, and social media is messing with the next, all who dare participate, really. That’s the narrative. But it’s not without a kernel of truth.

A certain amount of entitlement seems to go hand in hand with the equality social media and comparable platforms provide, and where there’s entitlement there’s always the drive to have the last word, and where there’s a drive to have the last word there’s the temptation to view others as not so equal anymore but as inferior should they not listen and agree, and that temptation breeds another, the need to ridicule, hurt and humiliate. Is that the loop so many seem to be caught in at the moment, screaming at strangers, quarreling with acquaintances, severing ties and burning bridges?

I know I have felt anger and frustration, oh so many times, over the past twenty-two months. It’s a valid, perfectly understandable and human reaction. You’d have to be Jesus himself to put up with what life keeps throwing at you and never for a fleeting second think that fuck this shit, I’m done. Done with people; what a bunch of unthinking and unfeeling morons.

Never met Jesus, not sure I ever will, but I hear he hated on no one, at most reprimanded hypocrites and greedy bastards. We have no problem hating on people we don’t know and will never meet. Since it’s Christmas (even if you don’t observe it) why not do as Jesus did and try to love (or at the very least listen to and try to understand) people you don’t know and will never meet. It’s a tad harder than dismissing and despising them when you don’t see eye to eye, but we have so many issues to deal with, so many problems to solve, and it would make everything go faster and that much smoother if we did it together. I know it’s a lot to ask, I know I fail at it all the time, but I’m trying. Give it a try with me? It’s almost Christmas, and on Christmas you get to make a wish, and this is mine.

The mysterious Styles affair

Temperature: a drizzly 7.5/45.5 degrees.

Eating: almonds and raisins with some…

Drinking: …glögg!

Watching: Some documentaries I’d like to recommend and hope you have access to: Why Do We Dance?, Whose Streets?, A Word After a Word After a Word Is Power, and Bleed Out.

Listening: Don’t tell anyone but I’m already listening to some Christmas tunes.

Reading: Kleptopia: How Dirty Money Is Conquering the World by Tom Burgis. Dearest denizens, you should read this book.

Writing: Christmas letters overseas. I still enjoy writing by hand. Gives you time to think about what to say and presses you to write only what is pertinent.

Thinking: Watching my son getting dressed for a date and being really meticulous about it brought back the Harry Styles on the cover of Vogue business. And the backlash, which in most evoked a big fat what-so-what-calm-the-hell-down. This is a threat to men and masculinity, to family values and children, some opined. How? Explain to me how a man in a dress is a threat. How is tulle, or the color pink or old rose, wearing makeup or heels, going all out peacock or just putting on some mascara a threat? Let’s step back in time and put this into perspective and think Highlanders or Baroque and Rococo; or the more recent history of pop and rock with no end of examples of men in heavy makeup, ruffles and attention-grabbing colors. What is so wrong with expressing yourself, your personality and identity through your choice of clothes and accessories? What makes some so uncomfortable with the individual choices of others? I ask again: where is the threat? There is more than a little homophobia, transphobia and misogyny in these alarmed worldviews, I think. A sense of real men, manly men (whatever the hell that means, and if Putin, Bolso, Trump and the likes are your touchstones then you need to rethink your preferences or at the very least stop trying to hang them on the rest of us) being under attack. By light fabrics and lipstick? Pastels and joie de vivre? Displaying an ability to be all you want to be, not some limited, superimposed, conventional version of manhood? Because those limits have reached a limit, that superimposed role hurts men, and punishing those who defy convention continues but leads nowhere. Climate crisis is a threat. Harry Styles is not. If you feel threatened by Harry Styles, or by anyone who isn’t a real actual threat to your health, safety and life, then that is your problem, not theirs; leave them alone. And maybe talk to someone about your insecurities? People usually only want to help. If you let them.

Feeling: thankful. The extended family is healthy, either retired or still employed, and hanging on to the hope that we will meet again soon and give one another the longest hug in the history of embraces and big giant smooches that border on drool. If that isn’t something to look forward to then what’s the matter with you? The Grinch pinch your spirit? Go pinch it back!

Good trouble

Dita can’t come to the blog right now, Fridays For Future has called for a global day of climate action and I’m helping my sons with something. Yes, they’re being very responsible and mature about things, much more responsible and mature than some adults who should know and behave better have been this week (happy 75th, UN!).

Somewhere over the rainbow

How goes it, sweetie darlings? Are you all right? Seems as if crisis upon crisis is being heaped upon us, doesn’t it, and you don’t know which way is up because everything is going down the drain through a gigantic garburator, and what comes out the other end is anyone’s guess.

WTF is going on, right? Well, first came the autotrophs…stuff happens…more stuff happens…humans come along…steady string of shit happens…and here we are, two billion years later, living in the Anthropocene, a youngish manifestation of life on earth, debating intrinsic values and negotiating inalienable rights like the savannah (or aquatic?) apes we are, fresh off the evolutionary boat.

But enough with the mangled metaphors. WTF, right? Yet…it’s not as if anything new is going on; maybe it’s just new to some of us. It’s not as if we haven’t been warned; the existence and consequences of crises such as climate collapse or inequality have been studied, established and documented, repeatedly. It’s not as if we have the right to be indignant or surprised; there’s just never a good time for a crisis. Do you have empty slots in your calendar? You might have, but you won’t be filling them with crises, are you? Of course not. There are a thousand and one things you would rather be doing. And I’m not berating you, being cheeky, snarky, or *gasp* a cynic. Of course not! We are, after all, an optimistic race. Positive and forward-looking. Shit happens, life goes on. People die, but life goes on. Of course it does; but we seem to be, as humans always believe they are, in a unique crossroads, a time of great change and big decisions, living in life-threatening and upending conditions. Of course we are. This is, after all, the only time and place we know, we haven’t lived in another. And we have to live and learn all on our own. Past mistakes are past, we have to make our own. Past teachings are past, we have to learn those lessons on our own.

But…there’s just no time for that, or a tug-of-war. Every day wasted bickering is a day wasted. We have the facts, the numbers, the data. But when those facts have no bearing on you, it’s easy to skate over them. When that data means upheaval, loss of revenue, loss of privilege, there will be denial and dismissal from those who profit from the status quo. Can there really be as much poverty and inequality as advertised? You’ve never been poor/discriminated against and don’t know anyone who has been. Is the climate in crisis? The weather seems fine! But just like the weather is what you see out the window and the climate covers the entire planet, my experience of the world is mine, and your experience is yours. We’ll never know what it’s like to be someone else. We’ll never live in someone else’s skin, walk in their shoes. But we can imagine. I’m not at all surprised so many women are taking part in the BLM protests. Many or most of us know what it’s like to be dismissed or discriminated against, so damn straight we empathize.

I think that’s what the world desperately needs and has always needed: empathy, imagination. Without them, you don’t and won’t see the world through anyone else’s eyes but yours. Without them, you don’t and won’t see the consequences of your actions. Facts and numbers and data are absolutely essential when you’re trying to win an argument, but to win a heart you need stories. Books, plays, movies, music, fine art are all fine vehicles, but real people, real lives, real experiences are better; you can’t dismiss them as figments of someone’s imagination.

Let’s listen to one another and speak our truths and tell the world what it feels like to be human in this time and place we occupy together. It’s not a competition but there is a prize: more compassion and cooperation, more empathy and unity; a positive change; a more inclusive world. The suffrage and abolitionist movements succeeded. The LGBTQ+ community is fighting for and winning recognition and rights. The “natural order” of things isn’t natural at all, it’s man-made. So is the climate crisis, gender, racial, regional and economic inequality; they are connected and they intersect. Let’s wise up. Let’s take responsibility and let’s take action. Let’s challenge leaders, companies and governments who won’t. Let’s not vote for or put up with Teflon suits, the Bolsonaros, Johnsons, Morrisons and Trumps of this world. (If it talks like a misogynistic bigot and bully, looks tailored to corporate needs, and seems to both shirk responsibility and avoid accountability, trust your gut instinct and first impression, it is, it does, and will keep doing.)

And let’s challenge ourselves. You are the leading expert on being you. Listen to other experts on life on earth. Read, discuss, think, think again. Admit that you have cognitive biases and distortions. We all do. We are encouraged to brand ourselves, and with all the talk around identity, you can’t help but think that maybe you should get one. Before you know it, your thinking becomes entrenched and every person, idea or circumstance that doesn’t fit doesn’t count. Don’t let that happen to you, dearest denizen. Fight it. With all your might. You are the one and only you just the way you are. Respect and celebrate that by respecting and celebrating the uniqueness and full humanity of others. And be prepared to change. Change course, change your thinking, change your ways, change your mind. We are, after all, a hopeful race. Cooperative and creative.

If you’re tired of being a consumer, a commodity, a resource, become an agent. If you’re tired of witnessing the degradation of your fellow humans and our habitat, become an agent. An agent for change; an agent for good; an agent for a more equal, livable world. If you feel as if there is no reason to get out of bed in the morning, dearest denizen, sweetie darling, my friend from afar…you have found your purpose.

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.

Fridays with Greta

I’ve been taking walks to say goodbye to a patch of forest and the wildlife that inhabit it. Come spring, we’ll have to find another patch to meet up in because that one will have been razed, covered in concrete and steel, and occupied by humans, their pet animals and the odd house plant.

Speaking of which, hubby the green thumb has been hoarding plants. And we already have house plants. Many, many plants. Not that they don’t make our home more livable now that we’re moving indoors, but if summer is awash with light, the winter is long and dark, and those plants won’t make it without some help from their human helpers. It’s just that…indoor grow lights aren’t the most pretty of lamps, and the best ones will make your home look like a drug den with their violet glow, and I don’t want every room in the house to have that wavelength and vibe, but that’s where we’re headed if Mr. Green Thumb doesn’t calm the hell down.

But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, and if this girl wants tropical plants in the Arctic, she has to put up with a certain amount of crack den chic. (The neighbors have spotted those lights. And we have a green house. You bet everyone has asked to take a tour. “So what you got in there?” Meaning: Is this actually a cannabis cultivation facility? Because that’s what one of them joking not joking said he thought it was. Sorry to burst your bubble. Would you have wanted some? And, above all, do we strike you as the kind of people who would?)

[Apparently. Oldest son sat in my car in an empty parking lot chatting with a friend. Too late at night and too long for a police patrol’s liking. They tap the window and ask if all is well. I kid you not, that boy is a cool cat. Too cool for the officer’s liking. They ended up having a staring contest, the officer breaking it to ask, “Are you high, son?” They wouldn’t take his word for it, that too relaxed young man, so they took a saliva test, which my son was happy to give since he was in perfect driving condition. Oh man, I had to laugh when he told me the whole story. I know how irritating and, yeah, probably iffy his unflappable demeanor may seem to those who don’t know him.]

And on the matter of unflappable adults of the future, another big climate strike march is coming up on September 20. (It’s actually a whole week of action.) Have you noticed how (forget the trash-talking loudmouths) numerous people in high places with the megaphone to match applaud Greta Thunberg, how fearless she is speaking truth to power, and how we should all be listening? And then? So you’ve heard her. So you admire and respect what she is doing and trying to achieve. And then? Are you going to…put your money where your golden tongue is? Take action? Do anything she proposes citizens, cities, countries, the globe do?

The Fridays For Future movement, or Extinction Rebellion, they’re not just about the future, the fate of our children and grandchildren, generations we’ll never get to meet. The future is here and it’s already a disaster. It’s a draught in Australia, a hurricane wiping Bahamian communities off the face off the earth, flash floods across Europe, forest fires burning for weeks in Siberia, the destruction of the Amazon. And, dearest denizens, when enough of a primary, old-growth rainforest is gone, there is no going back. The forest enters a cycle of self-destruction humans incited but have no means to stop.

You may have not felt the effects for yourself. Doesn’t mean it’s not happening to someone somewhere. You know that. And believe what you want, deny the climate crisis all you want, but do take time to educate yourself on why scientists believe the crisis is real and coming to you from every corner of the planet. It applies everywhere and affects everyone. Telling genuinely panicky children and young people to sit down, shut up and stop worrying is like saying fuck you, your concerns and your future. Shutting down the adults of tomorrow, stripping them of hope, the current state of things and message we are sending, is a big fat fuck you very much.

We can buy solar panels, electric cars and renewable energy, reuse, refuse, recycle, reduce food waste, take a hundred different steps and measures to help the planet heal. But that will only take us so far. We need to put pressure on the big spenders and polluters. Reject and replace governments and officials that treat the climate emergency as a “niche issue” (as Trump’s did going into the G7 summit). Stir up corners that pretend they live on a different planet altogether and don’t know what we’re talking about. (Yes, Russia, I mean you.) Stop dabbling and get cracking.

At the top of the food chain, the only way is down. Every link we remove reduces our chances of survival. It’s not just a matter of a flood here, a hurricane there, a blazing or razed forest someplace else. This is a matter of eventually running out of food and fresh water, losing a hospitable environment. Tamper with Gaia, pay the price. 

Mother Nature is not cruel by nature, she is just perfunctory. If we act like pests, she’ll treat us accordingly, because in her eyes we’re not the crown jewel of creation, we are but one part of the puzzle she is trying to keep intact. If removing us from the equation will restore balance then that’s the fate that awaits us. Except fate is the wrong word. We will have chosen that road ourselves.

Too defeatist for your taste? But, sweetie darling, this has nothing to do with fate. We're not borrowing from the future. We're stealing as fast as we can with both hands while flipping the bird. In that sense, acting so senselessly, if we keep at it, we are doomed.

This concludes today’s sermon.

I wish you a good weekend, peace of mind, and determination.

Behave.

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.

Let’s get physi(ologi)cal

Just when you thought that now that Dry January is over, you’re safe…tum tum tum tum tum tum tum tum…that’s supposed to be Jaws, btw…Fit February is here! I know. And no, I’m not here to go all fitness fascist on your ass, whatever shape and size yours happens to be. I would, however, like to mention some seldom advertised truths.

Humans have an on average amount of fat cells. On average. Meaning some people have two or three times the amount of fat cells his/her average-amount friend has and are apt to gain two or three times the amount of weight her/his average-amount friend ever could or would. You can choose what and how much you eat, but you can’t choose those cells any more than you can choose your genes. Hundreds of genes affect weight and among that multitude lurk some that predispose you to gain extra. (And yup, those tend to run in the family.)

So, some people can eat seemingly anything they want and not gain weight, and some feel they can’t eat a thing without automatically putting it on. That’s a simplified picture but more or less how the process works. Weight is not just a matter of dietary habits or self-discipline, as some unhealthy health messaging would have you believe. It’s physiology at its finest, and most infuriating. So much in the human body we can’t control or change. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t react if you start putting on excess kilos/pounds bordering on obesity, it just means that losing those kilos/pounds may turn out to be a lot harder than you thought. Bodies equipped with certain genes, triggers and extra storage facilities will do their best to keep those extra fat cells fed. That’s the job.

Another tidbit: Your gut doesn’t count calories. All an adult stomach requires to feel sated is 400 grams/14 ounces of food. How many calories you pack into those grams/ounces is up to you. And if you’ve heard someone call the gut our second brain, well, consider, for instance, that there are bacteria in your gut that specialize in sugar. That’s what they crave above all else. They create that craving you feel. That’s your second brain in action, insta messaging you, screaming for sugar, and the more you feed that need the greedier the bacteria get. That’s their job.

And where am I going with all this? Gently nudging you on a path to self-knowledge. If knowledge is power, self-knowledge is a superpower. I don’t view ignorance as bliss, I feel helpless and restless in the face of things I don’t understand. I feel calmer when I grasp cause and effect, even if it’s something I can’t change or control. And this need to understand applies to pretty much everything including weight and health. Or willpower, or self-control. Innate trait or skill, willpower? Not sure it matters so long as we decide to view it and treat it as something we can cultivate. And if you want to be better at handling your body’s messages you should take an interest because we are bombarded with those messages all day, every day.

The trick, or a trick (they teach you this in combat training, probably Weight Watchers too) is not to listen. Disregard. Discomfort? Live with it. Pain? Breathe through it. Exhaustion? More to come, so enjoy every plateau. Easier said than done? Easier for those with higher levels of neuropeptide Y. Easier/harder because of the complexity of our makeup. Nature, nurture, genes, triggers, chance, circumstance… As those fat cells demonstrate, we were not created equal, not in the physical sense. But: we are all capable of learning self-command. If you haven’t been that good at it, it will be taxing at first. You will feel fricking exhausted going head-to-head with yourself. But mastery, even a fleeting glimpse of it, comes with a prize, and that, sweetie darlings, makes it all worthwhile.

[Oh great, another bunghole selling the you-can’t-control-everything-but-you-can-always-control-you trope? Nope. Just trying to demonstrate the difference between being at the mercy of inexplicable inner whims and cravings/the will of others and understanding inner workings/how the world operates. Nah, still kind of sure I’m selling the you-can’t-control-everything-but-you-can-always-control-you trope? Good god, what are you still doing here? Move along, my friend! And if it’s diet tips you’re after, I only have one: Does this nourish me? Does this whatever I’m about to put in my mouth nourish my body? We tend to know the answer, whatever the product or produce.]

How do you start on this road to better self-command? I suggest small and simple. A part of the whole disregard business is not thinking too much. Don’t feel like cleaning house? Don’t debate it. Don’t cajole, don’t bargain or bribe. Don’t ask yourself if you’re up to it. You know you don’t wanna. So best not think too much or too long about it. Put on the autopilot (and some music, if it helps) and get on with it. Or when you constantly crave sweets, or a drink after work, or whatever your taken-too-far-an-unhealthy-guilty-pleasure is. That’s your body sending a message you can either listen to or disregard. Take it from someone whose favorite pastime is thinking, someone cursed with a vivid mind. I’m very good at coming up with reasons (read: excuses) for not doing things like cleaning house because I have better things to do with my time, all the time, every time. So, I’m not allowed to argue or debate or reason. I don’t wanna too fricking bad I’ve gotta. End of inner discussion.

You get better with practice, I promise. How to keep going? You can always roleplay. You can hire your very own imaginary taskmaster. Some BDSM may be in order, a Dom/Mistress, your loving authority, who never judges and only wants what is best for you, and will remind you what that is when you start slipping. I summon a drill sergeant, a mean and bossy bastard. I also have another personal trainer for times and situations when that mean, bossy DSgt of mine feels a bit too…heavy-handed. Stupid tricks, you say? Smart tools, I say. Also, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, okay? Whatever helps. Whatever gets the job done, be it a physical or mental task.

And it is a stressful world we live in. Same as it ever was. You will feel overwhelmed and tired. You will fear failure. You’ll be certain you’re underperforming in everything you do. You will make stupid, senseless comparisons when you should be concentrating on yourself. Take care. Take care of yourself. Learn to know yourself, the good and the bad and the ugly. The saint and the sinner. Your triggers and buttons. The true you. You will live in that skin for the rest of your days. You will have to live with yourself, your choices, decisions and possibly even regrets, for just as long. There is no escape and there are no clean slates, only doodles upon doodles upon doodles, layered and interconnected. That’s you. The one and only. So have patience, have mercy, and when you absofuckinglutely need it, have that glass of wine or whatever. I will be there with bells on, disregard the taskmaster leaning on the doorbell, and we will drink to your health and happiness.

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.

Be kind, rewind

'Tis the season to be jolly... Well, it is, sweetie darlings, carnival season! Followed by lent, which is all about penance, abstinence, giving up, letting go. Of what? Carne vale means a farewell to meat but there are better ways to fast than a forty-day vegetarian streak.

What if we gave words a rest this lent? Spoke less, listened more. Wrote less, read more. Rich coming from someone whose livelihood depends on how one uses words and language? That's just it, dearest denizens. How do we use our voices? Are we all mouth and no ears? All busy fingers and blind eyes? It sure feels like it as you move around the World Wide Wildness.

And it is a jungle out there, isn't it, one where words and sentiments such as pity, remorse and mercy play but a bit part, so it seems. How easy it is to cut someone down. All you need is 140 carefully chosen characters. Or just brush them off with a swift swipe. Or round up some friends and go after them, pitchforks sharpened, torches a-blazing and scathing scythe at the ready. You'll never have to face them. You don't even know them. You know nothing about them, all you have is a personal opinion and your private soon public emotions and we are all entitled to ours, but that's as far as our entitlement extends, isn't it?

At least it should be. But we take freedoms in the jungle, and what a free-for-all it is, one where entitlement knows no bounds. I feel some David Bowie coming my way... Oh man! Look at those cavemen go / It's the freakiest show / Take a look at the lawman / Beating up the wrong guy / Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know / He's in the best selling show... All the world's a stage and everyone wants their fifteen minutes, and so what if someone gets hurt, bleeding hearts of the world: unite! 

No, I'm not saying some don't deserve a good tongue-lashing, but that's an art right up there with every other form of using and choosing language. Start screaming and the opposition will only scream louder to make sure it's heard. Hiss and curse, vilify and objectify, and the opposition will only come up with something lower and lewder. Silencing someone, or attempting to, is the surest way to draw attention to them.

No, I'm not saying that banning words or the ones who misuse them is the answer. Quite the opposite. Freedom of speech, freedom of press, freedom of opinion and the right to dissent are under constant attack all over the world, even in our parts. You know it's bad when your government, your government, starts distorting facts, suppressing truths, killing people based on metadata and attacking freedoms it has sworn to defend.

You know the end is nigh and that they're only getting started when they flash the for-your-own-protection card. I don't feel safe, I feel violated. I don't feel reassured, I feel hoodwinked. Utterly hoodwinked and disgustingly violated. The hubris. The hypocrisy! You want to rule the world you better listen to your subjects or else you're just another dictatorship.

There is nothing more dangerous than a freethinking human who refuses to be silenced. There is nothing more powerful than a freethinking person who demands to be heard. I hope that this carnival season, you celebrate your freedom and rights. And I hope that this lent, you honor your responsibilities.

When all is said and done

 
Warning: verbal incontinence ahead.

Year-end review time! So how did you do, compared to how you expected to January 1, 2014? I started out all eleison, all merciful, not too hard on myself. And ended up, well...as the Mythbusters will tell you, failure is always an option. It wasn't a catastrophic failure, this year merely confirmed an observation: I'm an on-off person. When there's work to do, I'm all over it. When it's time to kick back, shoes and gadgets go flying into the depths and won't resurface until it's time to go back to work.

So. Maybe I should apologize for the radio silence here at the den but I won't. True to form, I've been working hard so I can enjoy some rest and relaxation over the holidays. Be with family, visit friends and take care of the new addition to the family, Chloe the cat. I know horses and hounds but I've never owned a cat. [I know. No one ever owns a cat, not really...] I've envied friends with cats and I've wanted one for the longest time, and now we have one, and not just because I wanted one but because the whole family did. She's a European shorthair and the sweetest, fiercest thing.

All in all, my life hasn't been very tale worthy. Work. Exercise. Family & friends time. Chores. Not always in that order but always some combination of the above. There's been some backstage drama worth a post or ten but that's personal and a business matter and nothing I can go into right here right now. It has certainly given me pause and another glimpse at the unsavory underbelly of a trade I've worked in for a long time in many capacities. So hardly a surprise, just another observation confirmed. People are the best, kind, loving and compassionate. People are the worst, cruel, selfish and unjust.

What else? I've been thinking about memory and identity and our lives, the only shot we have at doing everything we'll ever do, and I've been thinking about time, how it's become a luxury item [although I do believe that's an illusion, a creation after our own selves; there's still time, we're the wasteful ones and always in a hurry]. There are no winemakers in the family, only people who enjoy wine. Should you decide to become a vintner, from scratch, buy land and vines, it would take you a minimum of twelve years to see a grape worth squashing. The prerequisite of a quality wine is a quality vine, and those can take up to forty years to yield their best produce. Forty years. Still wonder why some wines cost a fortune? Someone somewhere waited half a lifetime for a vine to reach its full potential. Sometimes they wait by the vine in vain. Sometimes it comes to nothing. You can make bad wine from good grapes but not vice versa.

Take your time. Wait it out. See what happens. No time like the present. Carpe diem. Strike while the iron is hot. One of the biggest lies we tell ourselves is that we make decisions based on cool careful calculation, on knowledge, the intellect, dollars, pounds and euros, the bottom line. Maybe lie is too strong a word, the wrong word. Maybe it's not a lie but a blindness to how much private emotions and past experiences factor. We like to think of ourselves as sensible beings who can keep our sensibilities in check when the limbic brain, the reptile brain gives the first and fastest response in any situation and most of us never learn to override it. Most of us aren't even conscious of it's workings but everyone knows the physical reactions, the swell of emotion that so easily takes hold of you when something unexpected happens, good or bad. If you have time, you reason. If not, you react.

Some are all emotion and reaction all of the time. No one is reasonable and sensible in everything they do. Feelings factor and that's a fact, one dictators have shamelessly milked since the first undecided human decided s/he needed a determined leader. How else would despots garner attention and gain followers? Why on earth would anyone raise a hand or their voice against another unless they're driven by a logic, a rhetoric, that stands and falls on the feelings they generate, the reactions that follow, the emotional satisfaction they can bring?

"I'm going to slaughter 6 million people. Who's with me?" "I will give you a strong, proud nation, the greatest this world has ever seen, a glorious kingdom that will last a thousand years. Who's with me?" The power of words. The power of emotion. Words can be used to generate empathy and respect. Words can be used to create conflict, to divide and oppress. The very same words in some cases. Take the Bible, the Torah, the Koran, their words too often misused for personal gain, selfish purposes, evil. Just listen. Look around you. Here I babble but the world, oh dearest denizens, sometimes the world just renders me speechless.

Like dearest Europe, for example. Where are you going, old girl? Anti-immigration, anti-Islamic sentiments, anti this and anti that. Hatred disguised as nationalism. Nationalism disguised as patriotism. Egotism disguised as reason. This is your answer, your solution? What's the question again? You make them up as you go to justify your actions or should I say reactions because the only brain I can see at work and in charge is the reptile one. You feel threatened, you attack. Is there a reason to feel threatened? That's what I'd like to know but man is it hard to have a conversation with someone deeply immersed in a monologue. Take Erdogan whose new palace is bigger than the Louvre. The Louvre! And don't get me started on Orbán. One of my oldest friends is half Hungarian, and she's just... Well, not living in Hungary for one and probably never will be if this is their trajectory. And Putin... Putin explains Russia and Russia explains Putin. Don't be fooled, though. Russia and the Russian people are two very different things.

And I'm at it again, aren't I, soapbox out and foaming at the mouth... Great, just great. Let's talk about something else, shall we. The holidays? Yea! Whether you celebrate at Christmastime or not many around you do. I know it's a hard time of year to be alone. If you are, I still hope you enjoy the peace and quiet the holidays bring, even for a few days. I hope you do all the things that make you happy, things you enjoy, and if that's too much self-absorption to your liking, I hope you take up people on their invitations for you to come over for dinner, drinks, coffee... Maybe they're not asking because it's the Christian, Christmasy thing to do but because they really want you there. Life will resume normal programing in a few, you'll be swept away and full of excuses why you can't thanks for asking maybe some other time. Go.

We most certainly celebrate Christmas at Casa Dita. There's not much religious faith at the heart of our celebration because of the different individuals and denominations coming together, but there's love and compassion, there's empathy and respect, the moral compasses of die hard worshipers, agnostics and atheists alike. A religion, a life!, not rooted in love, compassion, empathy and respect...what purpose does it serve?

From soapbox to pulpit. Religion and politics? I just broke some social media rules, I believe, like all two of them. It's just that... Gah. 'Tis the season? Up next: New year, new gear! Are you thinking of a theme for 2015? Share if you dare. I've been on Facebook and Twitter, can you believe it, on-off as per this year's/this life's theme, but still. So find me if you want to keep in touch on a more daily/weekly basis.

I haven't had time or energy for writing fiction lately and that's a shame because I write in my head all the time. I intend to be a good girl over the holidays and get some words down on paper. Yes, paper. Still enjoy that, immensely, both writing on some and reading print. The computer and keyboard need a rest and I need some rest from them.

The dark days have been a drag but we got some snow yesterday and there's more coming in today. No more dreaming of a white Christmas, it's here and so is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. Which means longer days from now on, slowly but surely! Another cause for celebration, what our "pagan" ancestors celebrated before baby Jesus and St. Nick started facing off. Can't shout too loudly, though, this is the land of Santa after all. Since we live in the vicinity, he visits Scandinavian kids on Christmas eve.

You bet the wee ones are excited and so am I. I need a break and some downtime with family and friends. I hope you get some rest too or if it's an adventure you crave, I hope you find one. I hope you find what you're looking for. I hope you keep the faith, whatever lies at the heart of your belief/s, and I hope whatever it is, it's rooted in love, compassion and respect. It would be sooo easy to give in to despair and cynicism, the world bombasts us with reasons every day. But we're not quitters, are we, sweetie darlings? It's our world too and love is our resistance.

Merry Christmas, sweetie darlings, and a most excellent new year.

Can you make this thing go faster?

Yesterday was International Day of the Girl Child. And you were expecting a lecture, weren't you, dearest denizens? You didn't get one because you know what I think. You know what to do. You know what I think you should do. I have only one thing to add to every post I've written on gender and feminism and equality: 

Gentlemen, we need you. Women can debate these issues among themselves all year/century/millennium long but that is only half the discussion, half the solution. With still too few of us in positions of power i.e. with voices that carry you need to lend us yours. Not just your benevolent thoughts and a candle lit at eight on a Tuesday but your actual words, spoken out loud, when you feel, no, when know you should say something. Call bullshit when you hear it, call out idiots when you catch them, don't expect the situation to improve only because you're not actively trying to hinder progress. 

You don't need superpowers to be a hero. You don't even need to be a hero to gain our trust, garner our respect or win our love. All you need to do is promise you'll be there when we need you. The time is now.

A history of violence

Temperature: Fall is in the air/Everywhere I look around/Fall is in the air/Every sight and every sound... But thanks for letting summer linger for so long, much appreciated.

Eating: apples in any form/recipe you care to imagine

Drinking: now why didn't I think of that? Cider, sweetie darlings!

Watching: Losing Iraq (2014). Warning: graphic content, as in death, not just destruction.

Listening: to Mama Rosin

Reading: gearing up for see below

Writing: about to be tested for a project so wish me luck because I want this gig. “You want me on that team. You need me on that team. Who's gonna do it? You?”

Feeling: how to explain the world to your kids? Russkiy Mir, the Russian World, a neighbor for whom life, the economy and everything is a zero-sum game, a neighbor on a mission to not just peacefully cohabit but to oppose, to challenge. Or ISIL. Being asked is it true a group intended to pick a random Norwegian family, invade their home, kill them and put it on the internet? Are they coming here? Could that happen to us? Having to ask your children not to look at graphic pics or watch any videos, not even on a dare, ever, please promise me, because once you do you can't not see them and there are things in this world you don't want to recall, trust me, it's bad enough you know these things are happening to someone somewhere. The mother in me just wants to shield them and the woman in me just wants to bulletproof them and the human in me just wants to make them understand that it's their world too and that their voice and choices matter, so use them wisely and make them conscientiously. Destruction is easy. Building, restoring, preserving. That's what I hope they'll always focus on.

Pacific Day of Peace, dearest denizens, wherever you are.

Live to tell

Yesterday, the 12th of August, was International Youth Day. Yesterday, Robin Williams' suicide was all over the news. And the Academy was chastised for its "Genie, you're free" tweet, for implying, even inadvertently, that suicide is always an option, a way out, which I'm not sure was the message they were going for, but if the discussion that ensued comes back to message the UN was trying to convey about youth and mental health, so be it.

So can I just say something on the subject, not from a professional but a deeply personal perspective and experience? Well, I'm going to anyway, so if you don't wanna hear it, it's time to click on.

The summer before the last year of junior high, O spent a fun evening with his buddies, went home, tied a noose around his neck, cuffed his hands behind his back and hung himself. That's where his parents found him two days later, Sunday night. My sister lost a friend in college, a smart, witty and bubbly girl that one night stepped in front of a train. My husband's cousin shot himself in the army after a squabble that, by all accounts, could have been resolved with a sit-down.

Nothing connects these people apart from the fact that they were young, they are gone and no one had a clue that's where they were headed. Nothing in their demeanor, speach or actions hinted at thoughts they could have been thinking for a while. A spur of the moment thing then? We'll never know, we can only guess, and wish they had talked to us, someone, anyone, about the knots in their mind and the pain in their chest, whatever made the heart so heavy.

Isn't there always a clue, we're just too clueless, blind, insensitive to see? Here's the thing, and feel free to object, but we live not double but triple lives. There's the public level and persona we take to work and school, a personal one we share with family and friends (which may extend to people at work, school, etc.), and a private life we may share with both of the above, or not. Never fully, that's for sure, and it's always a personal individual choice how much and with whom you share that inner life.

Some have no problem talking about anything and everything with anyone who'll listen. Some have problems talking to others, period. It's not necessarily a matter of chemistry, temperament, trust, how long or well you know someone, some external condition, but an internal struggle or shadow, and I guess that's what baffles us not privy to that information, that personal inner lever. How could someone so full of life harbor thoughts of death?

It's easy to lose connection with colleagues, with friends, even family. It's just as easy to lose connection with yourself. That rich inner life can turn on you, overwhelm you, and some are better equipped than others to fight and find their way back, to sort it all out. But what becomes of those too tired to seek help themselves? Those who don't have anyone to help them seek help? Those who're told to stop crying wolf, to snap out of it? Those who do seek help but never get it, for whatever reason?

My oldest is now a preteen. Well in advance, and many times since, I told him something I was told in my youth, something that helped me, something I hope will help my kids through the turbulent years ahead. "I have bad news and I have good news. The bad news: For the next few years, life will suck. When you don't know what and how to feel you will feel ten ways at once. You'll love everything and everyone one day and hate the same with a vengeance the next. The good news: It will pass."

I've only had one thing to add to that: Don't be afraid of your thoughts, your impulses or your emotions. A full life, a rich inner life, is not a life without strife but a true to life honest life without the rose-tinted glasses, a life where you face and embrace the whole spectrum, not just the rainbow. If your thoughts, your impulses or your emotions do start frightening you or overwhelming you, you must bring it up. Talk to a friend, a family member, doctor, teacher, priest...whomever you feel most comfortable talking to. If they can't help you, they will help you find someone who can. If you feel death would be preferable to feeling what you're feeling, you owe it to yourself (because that's who you're stuck with, that's who you need to get along with, get to know, first and foremost) to get to the bottom of it. Why not see this thing, your life, to the end, whenever that end comes, because rest assured life inevitably and eventually grants a death wish even if we never lift a finger to further it. So why hurry.

I once walked alongside someone with a diagnosed, debilitating depression. One of the longest and most frightening and frustrating and humbling walks of my life. Long because it took two and a half years. Frightening because I feared she'd lose the will to live. Frustrating because there was nothing I could say or do to help her or heal her, my love couldn't save her, all I could do was walk with her while she did all the work, the hardest part, sorted out all the unfinished business that burdened her soul. Humbling because she let me be there all the same, in all my utter uselessness and helplessness, and because she talked to me, showed me that inner life of hers, trusted me with it.

This much I can tell you about our walkabout: There will be days, weeks, months when you will be certain you will never pull through. Amid those thoughts, somewhere in the back of your mind, another thought flashes, dim and distant, occasional but definitely there: It doesn't have to be this way. Seize that thought. Reconnect with yourself. If you never felt that connection in the first place, search for it. Build it. Build on it. Take all the time you need, however long that is, and it may be a very long time, but there's no hurry. You may have to shut out the world and focus on yourself and yourself only while at it. Some people will understand and they will be patient. Some won't and they will be cruel. Seek professional help if that's what it takes, take the label, the diagnose, the meds if need be, just don't give up on yourself. Every day decide to hold on for one more day. Repeat. Every day. There will be setbacks. That's OK. Don't rush it. Don't expect a road to Damascus moment. You don't have to find Jesus, the meaning of life or anything of the sort, just your way back to yourself. One breath, one moment, one day at a time.

Take this with a grain of salt or throw the container at me but give things another think before you act on any impulse or emotion, as strong as they are, as all-important or permanent as they may feel. And don't always think too long before you speak, as scary as it may feel, as crazy as it may seem. It's your life so stake your claim. Own it. Own it.

Hey brother

Lances at the ready, gentlemen, I'mma climbing on a high horse. Cue groans oh gawd it was such a lovely day what now? International Women's Day! Yes, I know, but I was kinda busy on Saturday, and this year's theme stands every day of the week/month/year. Equality for women is progress for all.

You gotta wonder sometimes, and gents please don't charge before I've had my say and please please don't take offense because I do not mean every man on the planet, but are men stupid or something? You really want to shoulder the burden, financial, political, enter areas of overrepresentation here, on your own? Like really really? Because women sure feel that way sometimes, that you're making life unnecessarily hard for yourselves keeping your own counsel, upholding your old boys' clubs, anti-social networks closing the door on fully capable, willing and able women, people differentiated by the fact that their breasts tend to be bigger than yours.

Considering that our breasts have nothing to do with our brains, they sure play a big and baffling part in the oddest of times and places. The same goes for other discriminating factors. Irrelevant. At least they should be. So don't go there. With your eyes, or your hands. Your thoughts? Keep them to yourselves if you're with Camp Chauvinist. And go camp somewhere else. It's 2014 for crying out loud but you wouldn't believe it reading the Everyday Sexism Project stories and suchlike.

I have one, every woman does, starring that part of the female anatomy that makes many a man stir and stare and many a woman insecure for life. This was way back when I had hardly anything to make you stare or stir, a time when I didn't know if I liked what I saw or what I would be seeing in a year or two, but there they were. Now. Picture a bus with many school girls, young and a bit older, on board. Along comes a gang of three boys, 17 to 19-year-olds, about to play a game as they make their way to the back: breast spotting. Breast spotting with running commentary.

I had plenty of time to realize what they were doing. Plenty of time to watch their faces, see those smirks, listen to their lewd remarks and laughter, hear other girls hiss and curse. Time to wish I was someone else, somewhere else. I intended to look away, pretend I saw or heard nothing, brush it off with indifference. I ended up looking the boy who stopped in front of me straight in the eye.

Big mistake. I still remember what he looked like and I still remember what he said, but I was thirteen years old and I hated them, those boys I didn't know and never saw again with the fire of a thirteen-year-old, and that makes the whole episode that much harder to forget. To them it was just a stupid game. To the girls in that bus they were just stupid period. But when the games and comments start piling up some girls really do stop listening and some girls stop talking and some girls stop believing they'll ever meet a decent guy and if they do he's probably just pretending or a recovering asshole about to relapse and who wants that, you know.

I'm not kidding, gentlemen. I kid you not, I've held a girl's hand, tried to talk her out of giving up on you, told her there are plenty of good men out there because I knew there were, just you wait and see. So for the love of all that is holy please don't make your life unnecessarily hard, okay. Don't be an insensitive jerk. It's 2014 for crying out loud meaning you're very much at risk of being on the receiving end, the punch line of a sexist joke and who wants that, but what goes around comes around, you know. Or as a former card-carrying playboy now a father of three girls put it: "Poetic justice much?" I wonder what he'll teach his daughters about men, what he'll tell them about his wild days and ways.

Many women have turned feminists, and I mean hardcore, card-carrying feminists, after breaching the gates of power or breaking through the glass ceiling only to be confronted by some card-carrying chauvinist questioning her every move and word. Many men have turned feminists, and I mean hardcore, deeply concerned feminists, upon the birth of a daughter. They look at the world through the eyes of a woman and don't always like what they see. They know what kind of boys their girls will face along the way because they've met them all, maybe even been one of the worst kind once, and there's nothing they can do about it now but be responsible, empathetic role models not just for their daughters but their sons as well.

I know men who wish women ruled the world. I know women who wish we did. Most people I know just wish we could get on with the business of living and loving without having to hide or exploit or abuse or excuse or resist or explain our own sex, or the opposite one. Making a power struggle of it is a monumental waste of time and resources and we're kind of running out of both on this planet so...truce?

Empowering your sisters benefits all you misters. There's nothing in this world we wouldn't do for you. You've capitalized on that. There's nothing in this world we can't do. Why not capitalize on that too.

All yours,

D.

This is an occasion for genuinely tiny balbriggans

More proof of global warming, Earth Day edition.

Exhibit number 1. Summer of 1908.

Exhibit number 2. Summer of 2013.

I rest my knickers.