Trump's Appeal

Just this morning I finally figured something out that has had confounded me for a while.  Living in my liberal/progressive bubble here in Berkeley, California, I don't know anyone who is for Donald Trump.  I hardly know any Republicans and so I've had real trouble trying to understand his great appeal to voters in the Republican primaries.  This morning I got it, that is I understood what he means by "Make America great again."   It's all about raising up again white privilege that's been slipping away.  By white privilege I mean the assumption that the way to be is white - whites in the media,  whites in all the important jobs,  whites getting better education, whites getting advantages that others don't get and taking those privileges for granted.   No longer are whites the predominant racial group here in California, Hispanics are.  Around the country what white people used to enjoy, their indisputable privilege, has been slipping away.  Jobs have gone overseas.  Wages have stagnated and we have Obama as President (I think Obama is great).   Lower middle class white men are so stressed they actually have a lowered life expectancy these days.  Many of the Trump supporters are suffering just what many Black and immigrant folks have suffered for a long time.  Yet most minorities (dare I use that term anymore?) aren't for Trump, they vote overwhelmingly for Hillary Clinton.  White hegemony is gone and Trump shouts  "Let's make America great again."  America is a "Rainbow" country where immigrants have come since our very beginning to escape war,  troubles of all sorts, and to build a new and better life.  In the 19th and 20th century the great majority of immigrants were European.  Over the last half of the 20th century and 21st century, immigrants are increasingly from all over the world.  America is changed, changing still and there's no going back.  I hope in this election season, we can finally realize the work around racism that still needs to be done and I surely hope Trump isn't elected President.  America is already a great country, not perfect, but a great country!

Brussels

It was terrible to wake up yesterday to the news of the terrorist attacks in Brussels.  It brought back for me memories of recent attacks in Paris and even of 9/11.  In these days of instant communication, we are truly one, united, in this world of ours, steadfastly standing together in the wake of this latest violent attack against innocent peoples and our democratic values.  I am so sad for the deaths, injuries and suffering of those in Brussels.  But also horrifying was how immediately Trump and all other right wing demagogues used this event to promote further fear and hatred against immigrants fleeing just such violence.  Such acts of terror are precisely aimed to cause us in the free world to be afraid.  We cannot yield to fear or revenge. We must wield a strong united response to catch those responsible and prevent further attacks.  There are no easy solutions, no easy answers.  And it was with such deep thoughts, I went to my garden, where in the sunshine I heard the birds sing and found hidden forget-me-nots and California poppies blooming among the weeds I was pulling up.

Drawing flowers

I have loved flowers for as long as I can remember.  An early memory is the first punishment I remember getting, (I was three) for picking red tulips for my mother from a neighbor's yard.  I remember places, events and even people through flowers.  It isn't by chance that my Master's dissertation was on a desert wildflower.  So I am very happy to have taken two botanical art classes at the U. C. Botanical Garden in the last six weeks.  I was inspired by the first class to begin again drawing using colored pencils.  I'm comfortable using colored pencils and have several books of flower drawings I've done from the mid 90's.  Until this last month I hadn't touched this wonderful form of art in a lot of years.  Now I am enjoying drawing almost every day.  Yesterday I took the second class, this one titled Spring Bulbs, given by the same teacher.  This time I chose to do my tulip drawing in watercolor.  While I've played with watercolor doing smeary and watery bits of art, I am not skilled.  Botanical art is new to me.  It's so precise you have to measure each part of the object with calipers when you draw.  It involves layer after layer carefully applied watercolor and a knowledge of drawing, of perspective, of color and a skillful technique.  I could never even get the first thin water layer right.  It was either too wet or too dry.  Luckily, the class was very small so we each got lots of attention.  It took every ounce of the wisdom of my years to not feel the hopeless dummy.   I learned so much which is another way of saying I made so many mistakes.   This allowed me to learn how to repair all manner of drawing and painting errors.  Nevertheless, I loved it and at the end I asked the teacher how one learns to do this wonderful Botanical Art.  She told me she offers private classes weekly nearby and I hope to enroll and begin to learn this most difficult and wonderful way of seeing and representing flowers which I love so much.

Joy

Saturday, I went to a Memorial Service for a great lady named Joy.  Aptly named, she brought joy wherever she went.  Even though I only have good memories of her, I have increasingly become unhappy with Memorial Services that only "celebrate" the one who died.  It makes the deceased seem like a saint, hardly human at all.  It seems not honest, and Joy above all was honest.  Everyone has their edges and their struggles.  If we've come to the service we're sad.  It's hard for me to only celebrate because it closes off my feelings of sadness and grief.  Joy's service honored my sorrow with a perfect reading (see below).  There were many memories shared, but it was her son's story about some of her struggles that spoke to me most.  My heart was opened by this most wonderful service, a perfect tribute to Joy.
Joy and Sorrow by Kahlil Gibran
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some say "Joy is greater than sorrow: and other say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say to you, they are inseparable.
Together they come and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep in your bed.
You are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

Super Bloom

We came to Death Valley to see the Super Bloom---all the many many wildflowers blooming in response to perfect environmental conditions--and we were not disappointed.  Their seeds lie dormant for up to ten years waiting for just the right conditions.  I couldn't help but wonder about what seeds are lying dormant in each of us, waiting for the right conditions to flourish.  In Death Valley, it rained more than 3" in October, washing the protective coat off the seeds, then when the gentle El Niño rains came in the winter, a second washing of the seeds  they sprouted.  It's a boom and bust floral economy.  It is amazing to be in Death Valley, the driest and hottest place in the continental United States and see fields of wildflowers.  It is like Mother Nature took a wide paint brush and colored the desert alluvial plains yellow and pink.  Puddles of purple and yellow by the road, yellow Desert Gold flowers flowing down gullies where the water went.  The first place we stopped, I opened the car door and saw in just a foot at least 6 different species, a wonderful garden.  At one stop, I was overwhelmed with a sweet sweet smell, like a perfect perfume from the flowers.   It was a delight to figure out their adaptations - fuzzy white leaves thick with hairs to conserve water in the harsh environments, waxy leaved flowers to prevent evaporation, a race to grow and produce flowers, set the seed..  The pollinators were not immediately evident until I sat and spent time drawing the flowers.  Then I saw many tiny flies and ants.  It was a great joy to seek and find these amazing beautiful little flowers blooming in abundance in Death Valley.