Welcome to a club you never intended to join! You may as well get comfy. And you looked so damn cute in that outfit too, everything was probably going swimmingly, wasn't it? Haplessly and somewhat cheerfully going about your business just like everyone else, when suddenly your body said, "Nope. Not going to work. Not today!" In disbelief you struggled against the powerful tide of reality and perhaps things were made worse as you thrashed about ...until you had no choice but to let go. Surfers get this. I decided to learn these lessons the hard way and am happy to share a few details you may find helpful.
We are family, you you know. We are all, for better or worse, interconnected. Shocked by news media and especially the reactions of others, because we have a knowing that what is "out there" is also "in here" and the obvious truth that in the end, there is no "other". Oh this slow traffic! Where are all these people going? Why are we destroying nature with our consumption? Our hypocrisy is apparent as we ARE the traffic- and who among us does not leave disgusting carbon footprints? By the way, my kids never fight and my life is perfect. Grits teeth. Checks facebook in traffic (come on, car was stopped!) Enough with the self-loathing and chaos. Everything may seem upside down, but things are shaking out (no pun). What we can do is aim to love better.
For now, I see _everything_ through a different lens. I have been properly disillusioned and annihilated, in part because LOVE is a kind of metamorphisis. Big fat (and phat) loving-kindness LOVE, and love in it's myriad of forms. I intend to shoot love at you, dear readers. The internet and social media can be a machine gun. A rat-a-tat drive by where we don't have to look into anyone's eyes or care about their soft underbelly of mutual humanness. There are beings so lost, they spend precious time carelessly gunning strangers down in a vain attempt to avoid the mess of their own lives. Gossips are like that. Such a waste of time. This isn't that kind of blog, although I have a few grievances and perhaps more than a few questions.
Just glancing at news headlines is enough to make you long for the lifestyle of a recluse. Calm quiet simplicity sounds kind of nice right now, doesn't it? A room with stacks of New Yorker magazines, no electronics, and no one asking you for anything? No more driving all over for sports or appointments or that thing that really cramps our International Party Girl vibe: work. Swoon! I'll take solitude over all other fantasies, with a fist pump and a huzzah! Woot! OK, so my dark fantasies may get exposed in blog-dom. Some kid in Florida just ate a man's face and a 2 year old was recently raped by a 17 y.o. (wuuut?), so I am quite certain you won't be too shocked by anything you may encounter here.
Our apparent confusion about human behavior aside, we must remember that we are each only a tiny step away from some disaster. As I am preparing to leave for The World Parkinson's Congress the sky begins raining down on my family in bits and jaggy pieces with near-disasters of the house, technical, health and financial variety. I am pulled into a jail cell until the powers that be decide what to do with someone who doesn't quite fit any mold. Masquerading as an adult is not easy you know! I lean against the wall of the cell while waiting for someone else to unlock the door and save the day, but I fall right through it. The walls aren't even real. If you have found this blog, you probably already know that the director of our Universal "Truman Show" has gone mad. We can even see his feet beneath the curtain, and he probably has A.D.D.
Admittedly and by anyone's calculations I have first world problems, but it's my little red wagon and I happen to be the only one pulling it. No one expects to have devastating news delivered in a constant stream. The three D's are not for faint of heart: Divorce, Disease, Death. Also, never mess with angry white women in designer jeans in the suburbs. They'll tear your head off for a parking space at Whole Foods and proceed to throw shade from every public event for the remainder of your children's school careers. Not to diminish anyone's rage, but I have other things on my soggy mind.
We might do well to remember in our extremely busy and very important daily lives or in endless insomniac nights worrying that in fact we are never alone. It really is going to be OK. I am no expert (of anything) nor am I blogging with any delusion of superiority as if I have things dialed in (insert wild laughter here), but entertainment is on it's way. I can also recommend that you make time for good poetry, music and perhaps glass of wine with close friends. Along with my record collection, Neruda, Rumi, Hafiz, and Bukowski have saved my life more than a few times.
Then there is Mary Oliver. Who nails everything we wish to communicate in just a few words. I can only offer streams of consciousness and unedited random reflections, but Ms. Oliver is a goddess of prose.
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”
―Mary Oliver
And ...scene. I have a plane to catch for the Parkie Jamboree!*
Oh, as soon as I figure out how to link music I'll post some Ear Candy for you, (courtesy of DJ Dancingfool and Spotify). Thanks for stopping by!
* The brilliant Shel Bell coined this one. She may appear here in coming months to do a bit of bloggery. I'll be featuring many voices for your reading pleasure and I do not edit. Wanna write? Contact me at kathleenkiddo@gmail.com.