Thank you, Michelle Obama

Thank you, Michelle Obama.

Thank you for deciding to stay home on January 20th, for refusing to normalize the election of Donald Trump by attending his inauguration. Thank you for not acknowledging this man who incited insurrection by blocking the peaceful transfer of presidential power. This man who stood by as hordes of his minions called for the execution of his vice president. This man who seems to have no moral compass and who, many of us would argue, ran for president again solely to stay out of prison. Once again, as he has done throughout his life, he has gamed the system and won. We can accept the sad reality of his election, but we do not have to celebrate it. Thank you for modeling how to respectfully make that clear.

Thank you for not bending to the pressure of so-called “duty.” Thank you for not keeping up the charade that we had a peaceful transfer of power this time around, when it’s reasonable to assume that it would not have been so peaceful had the other side prevailed.

Thank you for modeling how a strong woman responds to the cult-like bro energy this man inspires. You know ~ as so many of us know ~ that this election is qualitatively different from any election in our history. We have once again elected ~ albeit by a miniscule percentage ~ a man who nearly toppled our government. This election is different, and our response to it must be different, too.

Full disclosure: I campaigned hard for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz. My politics are far to the left of theirs, but I believed they were the right choice for our country. When they lost, I was devastated. I have been devastated by electoral losses before, but this time around, I knew we were in uncharted territory. The first thing that this realization affected was my relationship with two of my nephews who voted for Trump. I love them beyond words. We have a long-standing tradition of discussing anything and everything political. I think they appreciate their leftie-auntie because I listen and take them seriously; and I appreciate them because they are thoughtful, intelligent young men. I do not understand their votes, but I accept them. Were these normal times, our political sparring would have picked up without a beat. Since these are not normal times, I knew I had to proceed differently. I decided to put a moratorium on discussions about the election until six months after Inauguration Day. Both of my nephews have honored this boundary. It exists because I need time to see how this all plays out. I want to use my energy wisely as this administration takes power and attempts to move its agenda forward. This means that for now, I do not have time for speculation and debate; instead, I want to focus on staying engaged locally and responding to any political crises that might arise. In the unlikely scenario that something positive comes out of this mess, I want to be able to affirm that, too.

So on January 20^th, I will not be tuning in to the Inauguration. Instead, I will be standing with a small group of committed citizens on a street corner in Tacoma, WA, honoring the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. We’ll be holding signs to promote what we stand for, including racial and economic justice, affordable housing and healthcare, peace, civil political discourse, action to address climate change, reproductive and LGBTQ+ rights, and compassionate immigration policy. We will not be raging against, or even referencing, the new president ~ he who has made outrage and distraction into an art form. We simply will not play his game.

We refuse to normalize this election. Thank you, Michelle Obama, for showing us how it’s done.

luna

she doesn't rally care
that you have posted a DANGER sign
your barbed wire simply serves
to make her more brash
confirming what she already knows
that reflecting light is a risky business
still
she dances with her lover and
illuminates the night
laughing
rising up and over
your ill-advised barriers
you can't keep a good woman down
or so they say
even as the critics taunt
don't you know your place?
you're a rock, for god's sake
a shiny rock, to be sure,
and maybe
(ok, we admit it)
a little mysterious
but still just a rock
who do you think you are?

rising slowly, deliberately
stopping people in their tracks
(look up! they exclaim)
she shines her reply

i am a rock
your rock
and i am a mirror
reflecting
refracting
pulling the tides and
igniting the passions
no fear of waning or dying or being born
again and again and again
I know who I am.
Do you?

vernal equinox/super moon
march 2019


luna

no le importa
que hayas puesto un anuncio de PELIGRO
tu alambre de púas sólo sirve
para hacerle más audaz
confirmando lo que ya sabe
que reflejar la luz es un negocio arriesgado
sin embargo
baila con su amante e
ilumina la noche
riendo
subiendo y cruzando
tus barreras desdichadas
no puedes oprimir a una mujer buena
(you can't keep a good woman down)
o eso dicen
mientras los críticos le hacen burla
no sabes tu lugar?
por dios, eres una piedra
una piedra brillante, seguramente,
y quizás
(ok, lo admitimos)
un poco misteriosa
pero solamente una piedra
quien crees que eres?

subiendo despacio, deliberadamente
deteniendo a la gente en su camino
(mira arriba! exclaman)
brilla su respuesta

soy una piedra
tu piedra
y soy un espejo
reflejando
refractando
jalando las mareas
y encendiendo las pasiones
sin miedo a menguar o morir o nacer
una y otra y una y otra vez
Yo sé quien soy.
¿Y tú?

equinoccio vernal/superluna 
marzo 2019

women's work

(Traducción al español a continuación)

"Can I do that?"

She was hesitant to anoint the body of her love.  He had died minutes earlier, just before she arrived for her daily visit.  We had been talking for weeks about the possibility that he would go when she wasn't there because it might be too hard for him to let go with her at his side.  And so it was that he died peacefully right before she walked in on that rainy morning.  She was tearfully sitting with his body when I asked if she'd like to anoint  him.  We had no special oils, only some wonderful smelling lotion, but it would do just fine.  And that's when she expressed her concern that the funeral home or the staff at the nursing home might be upset if she did.  Certainly the "professionals" had rules that must be followed.  She was visibly relieved when I reminded her of her own power and of her place in the long line of women who throughout the ages have prepared bodies for burial.  She forgot about the professionals pretty quickly.

We stepped into sacred space together as she gently, lovingly massaged his body with the sweetly scented lotion, telling stories of how they had met six years earlier: "two hellraisers who just happened to find each other."  She laughed and cried and hugged me hard.

blessing the boats
(at St. Mary's)

may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back   may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that

~ Lucille Clifton

___________________________________________

trabajo de mujeres

¿Puedo hacer eso?

Dudaba que pudiera ungir el cuerpo de su amado.  Había muerto justo antes de que ella llegara para su visita diaria.  En las últimas semanas, habíamos hablado de la posibilidad de que él se iría cuando ella no estuviera porque posiblemente sería demasiado difícil soltar con ella a su lado.  Y así pasó: murió tranquilamente unos minutos antes que llegara en esa mañana lluviosa.  Estaba llorando, sentada junto a su cuerpo, cuando le pregunté que si quería ungirlo.  No teníamos óleo especial, solamente una botella de loción perfumada, pero serviría bien.  Y fue entonces cuando expresó sus dudas, que la funeraria o las enfermeras de la residencia se enojarían si lo hiciera.  Ciertamente los "profesionales" tenían reglas que había que obedecer.  Se quedó tranquila cuando afirmé su poder y su lugar en la larga fila de mujeres que a lo largo de los siglos han preparado los cuerpos para el entierro.

Entramos juntas a este espacio sagrado mientras ella masajeaba suavemente su cuerpo con la loción perfumada, contando historias de cómo se habían conocido hace seis años: "dos desmadrosos que por casualidad se encontraron." Reía, lloraba, y me abrazaba fuerte.

la bendición de los barcos
(en Santa María)

que la marea

que está entrando aún
al borde de nuestra comprensión
te lleve más allá
de la cara del miedo
que beses
al viento y después apartes de él
seguro de que 
amará tu espalda   que te
abras los ojos al agua
agua ondeando para siempre
y que tú en tu inocencia
navegues por esto hasta eso

~ Lucille Clifton

it's not that easy being green/no es tan fácil ser verde

 Tweet - spin - rage - lie - attack. Repeat. Repeat until the waters are sufficiently muddied. Over and over and over. It's a recipe for psychic exhaustion, and it is very effective.

I recently stopped following a couple of friends on Facebook. After reading repeated urgent posts, demanding my immediate attention (or outrage), I knew it was time to step back in order to preserve both my own equanimity and our real, non-virtual friendships. The posts were relentless, dealing with impeachment, doom, complicity, malfeasance, and general distress ~ all related to recent happenings in our country and our world. Some were accurate; some were exaggerated; all together, they were overwhelming. So it is in our over-connected, under-reflective world, filled with a 24/7 urgency that does not abate.

Catholic monk and peace activist, Thomas Merton, referencing Quaker leader, Douglas Steere, nailed it back in the '60s ~ a time of turmoil not unlike our own, though without the relentless connectivity:

There is a pervasive form of contemporary violence to which the idealist most easily succumbs: activism and overwork. The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything, is to succumb to violence. The frenzy of our activism neutralizes our work for peace. It destroys our own inner capacity for peace. It destroys the fruitfulness of our own work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful.

 (from Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, 1966)

Which brings us to Green Tara. A much-loved Buddhist deity (one of 21 Taras, of varying hues), she has a huge following, particularly in Tibet. According to legend, she chose to reincarnate as a woman every time she came back. Because she was so enlightened, the powers-that-be encouraged her to reincarnate as a male, which of course would be a promotion of sorts in their male-dominated culture. She ignored their advice and made the following vow:

There are many who desire enlightenment in a man's body, but none who work for the benefit of sentient beings in the body of a woman; therefore, until samsara (the cycle of birth and death) is empty, I shall work for the benefit of sentient beings in a woman's body. 

As if that weren't enough, there's something else. This Goddess of Compassion sits with a unique posture. Do you you see it? She is beautifully ensconced on her lotus cushion, in a prayerful pose, but her right leg is extended. She is spiritual, contemplative . . . and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, prepared to respond to those who need her ~ but not without maintaining her spiritual grounding. I can think of no better model for how to proceed in these difficult times.

(In case you're looking for something to read while on your particular "lotus cushion", I highly recommend Merton's Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander).

________________________________________________________

No es tan facil ser verde

   

Tweet, girar, enfurecerse, atacar. Repetir. Repetir hasta que se hayan ensuciado suficientemente las aguas. Una y otra vez. Es una receta para el agotamiento psíquico, y es muy efectiva.

Hace poco dejé de seguir a unos amigos en Facebook. Después de leer posts repetidos, requiriendo mi atención inmediata (o indignación), me di cuenta que necesitaba alejarme un poco de ellos, para mantener mi propia ecuanimidad, y nuestras amistades reales, no virtuales. Los posts eran agotadores, hablando de la impugnación, la destrucción, la complicidad, varios actos ilícitos, y la angustia general ~ todos relacionados a los acontecimientos recientes en nuestro país y en el mundo. Algunos eran acertados; algunos exagerados; todos juntos, me agotaron.y me paralizaron emocionalmente. Así es en nuestro mundo demasiado conectado y poco contemplativo, lleno de una urgencia 24/7 que no se detiene.

El monje católico/activista, Thomas Merton, identificó el problema, citando al líder cuáquero, Douglas Steere, en los años 60 ~ un tiempo de turbulencia política muy parecido al nuestro, pero sin la conectividad incesante:

Hay una forma invasora de violencia contemporánea a que sucumbe muy fácilmente el idealista que lucha por la paz con métodos no violentos: activismo y exceso de trabajo. La precipitación y la presión de la vida moderna son una forma, quizá la más corriente, de su violencia innata. Dejarse arrastrar por una multitud de intereses en conflicto, rendirse a demasiadas solicitudes, comprometerse con demasiados proyectos, querer ayudar a todo el mundo en todo, es sucumbir a la violencia. Más aún, es cooperar con la violencia. El frenesí del activista neutraliza su trabajo por la paz. Destruye su capacidad interior de paz. Destruye la fecundidad de su obra, porque mata la raíz de sabiduría interior que hace fecunda la obra.

(de Conjeturas de un espectador culpable, 1966)

Y eso nos lleva a Tara Verde. Una diosa budista muy apreciada (una de las 21 Taras, de varios colores), tiene muchos devotos, especialmente en Tibet. Según las leyendas, ella escogió reincarnar como mujer cada vez que regresaba a la vida. Ya que estaba tan iluminada, los líderes religiosos la animaron a reencarnar como hombre ~ lo que, por supuesto, sería una promoción en su cultura patriarcal. Ella no les hizo caso, e hizo el siguiente voto:

Hay muchos que desean la iluminación en el cuerpo de un hombre, pero ninguno que trabaja por el beneficio de todos los seres sintientes en el cuerpo de una mujer. Por eso, hasta que esté vacía la samsara (el ciclo del nacimiento y la muerte), trabajaré por el beneficio de los seres sintientes en el cuerpo de una mujer.

Como si no fuera suficiente eso, hay algo más. Esta Diosa de la Compasión tiene una postura única. ¿Lo ves? Está situada hermosamente sobre su colchón de loto, meditando, pero tiene la pierna derecha extendida. Es espiritual, contemplativa ... y lista para saltar del colchón en un instante, lista para responder a los que la necesiten ~ pero no sin mantener su profunda conexión con la energía divina y universal. No puedo pensar de un modelo mejor de cómo proceder en estos tiempos difíciles.

(Si buscas algo que leer en tu "colchón de loto", recomiendo, Conjeturas de un espectador culpable de Merton.)

princess of quite a lot

(Traducción al español a continuación)



It was a pathetic sight. Sprawled across the bed in a cheap motel room in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, crying my eyes out, I was finally admitting that he was gone. The infatuation had been deep and strong, but his soulful letters, which I lived for, had stopped coming ~ just like that, without warning. A couple of months had passed, with no word from this man who could seemingly look into my soul. I could read the writing on the mailbox: It was over, and I was devastated.

Truth or Consequences. Can you think of a better place to weep over love gone wrong?

It was August, 1977.  I was 20 years old and had just finished my first summer session at a small state college in New Mexico. The two weeks before Fall Semester were supposed to be dedicated to a rendezvous with this dude. Instead, I ended up hopping on a Greyhound by myself, wandering through New Mexico. It was the start of a love affair with solo travel that has continued throughout my life.

But one other thing stands out. Before heading back to school, I went to see "Star Wars" ~ that new movie which, friends had assured me, was "science fiction, but not too science fiction-y". That's where this budding feminist met Leia, the gutsy, wonderfully snarky princess who more than held her own with the boys. Leia, who seemed to know exactly who she was. She knocked my socks off. Because I met Princess Leia at that particular time (just when I needed it), I was able to say to my heartbroken self, in a voice just above a whisper: I want to know who I am, too. I returned to school determined to do just that, with no room in my backpack for romantic infatuation.

Stay afraid, but do it anyway. What's important is the action. You don't have to wait to be confident. Just do it, and eventually the confidence will follow.
(Carrie Fisher, Interview in the Sarasota Herald Tribune, 4/20/13)

Carrie Fisher, of course, was not Princess Leia. When she played that character nearly 40 years ago, she was an emotionally insecure, 19 year-old actress, enmeshed in drug addiction and undiagnosed mental illness. What could have destroyed her served to fuel her fearless, candid spirit. She never tried to hide the messiness and pain of bipolar disorder; instead, she knew her demons well and fearlessly exposed them to the light. In doing this, she gave tremendous hope to countless people struggling with mental illness. 

One of the things that baffles me (and there are quite a few) is how there can be so much lingering stigma with regards to mental illness, specifically bipolar disorder. In my opinion, living with manic depression takes a tremendous amount of balls. Not unlike a tour of Afghanistan (though the bombs and bullets, in this case, come from the inside). At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you're living with this illness and functioning at all, it's something to be proud of, not ashamed of. They should issue medals along with the steady stream of medication.
(Wishful Drinking, 2008)

Emotional breakdowns, weight gain, aging in the spotlight, undergoing electroconvulsive therapy due to crippling depression: all these challenges served to make her the brash, brutally honest person she was. She spoke out and acted up. I have loved following her over the years, reading her wry commentaries on life and the challenges of living with her illness ~ never knowing, as she once put it, "when you're going to get gob-smacked by it". When she appeared in the latest installment of Star Wars, The Force Awakens, it made my heart sing to see her as Princess (now General) Leia, a strong, competent leader who ~ Dare I say it? ~  looked her age. Carrie's response to those who felt she hadn't "aged well"?

Youth and beauty are not accomplishments. They're the temporary, happy by-products of time and/or DNA. Don't hold your breath for either.

💜💛💚💙💜💛💚💙💜💛💚💙💜💛💚💙💜💛💚💙💜💛💚💙💜

Remember the white dress I wore all through that film? George came up to me the first day of filming, took one look at the dress and said, "You can't wear a bra under that dress."

"OK, I'll bite," I said. "Why?" And he said, "Because there's no underwear in space." He said it with such conviction. Like he had been to space and looked around and he didn't see any bras or panties anywhere.

He explained, "You go into space and you become weightless. Then your body expands, but your bra doesn't, so you get strangled by your own underwear."

I think that this would make for a fantastic obituary. I tell my younger friends that no matter how I go, I want it reported that I drowned in moonlight, strangled by my own bra.




Thank you, Carrie, for living passionately and out loud. You were a force, and you made a difference.

I hope you're now dancing in that moonlight with your dear mamma.



(Ricky LaChance)


________________________________________________________________________




Era una visión patética. Ahí estaba, tirada sobre la cama en un cuarto de motel barato en Truth or Consequences, Nuevo Mexico, sollozando y por fin aceptando que él se había ido. La atracción había sido profunda y fuerte, pero sus cartas conmovedoras, que esperaba ansiosamente, habían dejado de llegar ~ así no más, sin aviso. Dos meses sin comunicación de este hombre que había mirado a las profundidades de mi alma. Podía ver que el buzón estaba vacío. Había terminado y yo estaba destrozada.

Truth or Consequences (Verdad o Consecuencias). ¿Puedes imaginar un mejor lugar para lamentar un amor que terminó mal?

Era agosto de 1977. Tenía 20 años y acababa de terminar mi primera sesión de verano en una universidad pequeña en Nuevo Mexico. Tenía planeado un rendezvous con este hombre durante esas dos semanas antes del semestre de otoño. Ya que él había desaparecido, me subí a un Greyhound (camión), a vagar por Nuevo Mexico a solas. Así empezó mi pasión por viajar sola, algo que ha seguido durante toda mi vida.

Pero destaca algo más. Antes de regresar a mis clases, fui a ver "Star Wars" ~ esa película nueva que, mis amigos me habían asegurado, era "ciencia ficción, pero no demasiado ciencia ficción". Es allí donde esta feminista joven conoció por primera vez a Leia, la princesa valiente y deliciosamente sarcástica que sabía defenderse muy bien con los muchachos. Leia, que a mi parecer sabía precisamente quién era. Me dejó deslumbrada. Y ya que conocí a Princess Leia precisamente cuando necesitaba su energía, podía hablar a mi corazón desconsolado, susurrando, "Yo también quiero saber quién soy." Regresé a la universidad, decidida a hacer precisamente eso, sin espacio en mi mochila para las ilusiones románticas.

Quédate asustada, pero hazlo de todas maneras. Lo importante es la acción. No tienes que esperar para hacerte confidente. Hazlo, y con el tiempo, seguirá la confianza.
(Carrie Fisher, Entrevista en el Sarasota Herald Tribune, 20/4/13)

Carrie Fisher, por supuesto, no fue Princess Leia. Cuando hizo el papel hace casi 40 años, era una actriz de 19 años, emocionalmente insegura, enredada en la adicción y con una enfermedad mental que todavía no se había identificado. Lo que  hubiera podido destruirla sirvió para animar su espíritu valiente y honesto. Nunca trató de esconder el desarreglo y el dolor del trastorno bipolar; al contrario, concocía bien a sus demonios y se los expuso sin miedo, llevándolos a la luz. Haciendo esto, dio la esperanza a muchas personas que luchaban con la enfermedad mental.

Una de las cosas que me confunde (y hay varias) es cómo podemos tener tanto estigma todavía, en cuanto a la enfermedad mental, especificamente el trastorno bipolar. En mi opinión, vivir con la enfermedad maniaco-depresiva requiere una cantidad increible del valor. Es como estar en la guerra (pero las bombas y balas, en este caso, están por dentro). A veces, ser bipolar es un desafío abrumador, requiriendo mucha fuerza interior y mucho coraje. Así que si estás viviendo con esta enfermedad, y estás funcionando, aunque sea un poco, debes sentirte orgulloso, no avergonzado. Deben repartir unas medallas, junto con el chorro de medicamentos.
(Wishful Drinking, 2008)

Los colapsos nerviosos, el aumento de peso, envejecerse siendo foco de la atención, tener la terapia electro-convulsivo a causa de una depresión incapacitante: todos estos retos sirvieron para hacer que ella se hiciera la persona audaz que era. Durante los años, ha sido un placer seguir su vida, leyendo sus comentarios astutos sobre la vida y los desafíos de vivir con su enfermedad ~ sin saber, como ella dijo una vez "cuando vas a ser atropellada por ella". Cuando apareció en la última versión de Star Wars, El despertar de la Fuerza, mi corazón empezó a cantar al verla como Princess (ahora General) Leia, una lider fuerte y competente que ~ ¿Me atrevo a decirlo? ~ había envejecido. La respuesta de Carrie a algunas personas que creyeron que "no había envejecido bien"?

La juventud y la belleza no son logros. Son las consecuencias pasajeras y felices del tiempo y/o el ADN.  No esperes sentado por cualquiera de los dos.

💙💚💛💜💙💚💛💜💜💙💚💛💜💙💚💛💜💙💚💛💜💙💚💛💜

¿Te acuerdas del vestido que tenía durante toda esa película? George se me acercó el primer día de filmar, echó un vistazo al vestido y dijo, "No puedes tener sostén debajo de ese vestido."

"¿Por qué" Y me dijo, "Porque no hay ropa interior en el espacio." Lo dijo con tanta convicción, como si hubiera estado en el espacio, y no vio ni pantaletas ni sostenes en ningún lado.

Me explicó: "Vas al espacio, y te vuelves sin peso. Entonces tu cuerpo expande, pero el sostén no; así que te quedas estrangulada por tu propia ropa interior."

Yo creo que esto sería una esquela magnífica. Les digo a mis amigos jóvenes que no importa cómo me muera, quiero que reporten que me ahogué a la luz de la luna, estrangulada por mi propio sostén.



Gracias, Carrie, por vivir con pasión y en voz alta. Eras una fuerza, e hiciste una diferencia.

Espero que ahora estés bailando en esa luz de luna con tu querida mamá.



(Ricky LaChance)

invisible

She is beautiful as she wanes. Most people don't notice her. She's not flashy, nearly invisible on the powder blue skyscape, but she is there; and if you happen to spot her, you will be captivated by her presence. Her radiant, younger self shone brightly and got everyone's attention, inspiring music, poetry, passionate romance, and raucous howling. That younger incarnation, well, no doubt about it, she was a looker. But this moon ~ waning in the daylight ~ is subtle and strong as she slowly disappears. You'll miss her if you don't look for her, for she will soon be old, and then gone.

She is the Guardian of the Tribe of Invisible Women. Soulful members of this tribe wear the "invisible" label lightly, with an ironic joy. Plumbing the depths of their souls, they shed unnecessary pretense and keep it real. It's easy to miss them when they're doing that, but don't be fooled. They're still there, perhaps more present than ever.

She really is beautiful as she wanes. So look up. Pay attention. Because you will miss her if you don't, and the loss will be yours.

___________




Es hermosa mientras mengua. La mayoría de la gente no la conocen, ni se fijan en ella. No es llamativa, casi invisible en el azul celeste del cielo, pero allí está; y si llegas a verla, serás cautivado por su presencia. De joven brillaba fuertemente y llamaba la atención de todos, inspirando música, poesía, romance apasionado, y los aullidos escandalosos. Esa incarnación joven, pues sin duda era una guapetona. Pero esta luna ~ menguando en la luz del día ~ es sutil y fuerte mientras va desapareciendo, poco a poco. Te la perderás si no la buscas, esta bella luna que suavemente envejece, pues pronto se pondrá vieja, y luego desaparecida.

Es el Espíritu Guardián de la Tribu de las Mujeres Invisibles. Las miembros apasionadas de esta tribu llevan ligeramente esta descripción de "invisible", con una alegría irónica, mientras exploran las profundidades de sus almas y se despojan de las pretensiones innecesarias. Pueden parecer invisibles cuando hacen eso, pero no te dejes engañar. Todavía están ahí, quizá más presentes que nunca.

Ella es realmente bella mientras mengua. Así que mira hacia arriba. Presta atención.  Porque te la vas a perder si no lo haces, y la pérdida será tuya.