Resistance

This last week's political events have been distressing.  It is a scary time.  Our new President has swamped us with Executive Orders and all manner of outrageous propaganda.  I found my head spinning with the increasing chaos.  I couldn't reach any of my elected representatives by phone or email adding to my distress.  After a weekend with some important restorative time (beautiful music at the Symphony and a time in the garden planting sweet peas), I've gained a small measure of perspective and calmness.  The chaos keeps everyone off balance and gives more power to the President.  It's his method of keeping power and control.  More and more I realize that our free press is an important counter-balance to the "alternative reality" propaganda being spewed out.  One way I retain my power is by keeping a calm thinking head, with continued resistance of political action and by not normalizing propaganda and chaos.  I love my country and her beautiful freedoms and I will not let them be destroyed in service of a mean narcissistic bully's ego.

The Edge of a Cliff

Why do I feel like my country and I are on the edge of a big scary cliff?  Moving into action, going on the march was a beginning of my response, but only a beginning.  I don't know what difference the march will really make except for how the participants are changed, activated into more active citizenship.  It is clear to me I must prioritize my concerns and begin to really support the causes that matter to me. I have been pondering what are the most important causes to me and two issues rise up: climate change and women's rights.  I know we don't all have the same priorities and that is just fine, but all of us need to begin to express our support financially and by our boots on the ground support to causes that matter to us.    

Oakland Women's March

I waffled all week about whether I'd go to the Oakland Women's March.  I have a really big phobia about crowds and I worried about being stuck in the midst of an angry crowd of women.  But when Bob said he'd go with me, I decided to go with the group from church.  We set off early to meet up with the group at the S. Berkeley BART station.  Arriving early, we found only one other person we knew.  Slowly others trickled in until by the time we were ready to go, the BART trains were seriously packed.  One went by without stopping.  The next one stopped, already jam-packed, but our group of 12 pushed on anyway.  It was the most crowded train car any of us had ever been on.  The mood was excited, even jubilant.  Strangers spoke to strangers.  Lots of people wore hand-knitted pink hats.  Everyone was going to the march. Our train had to wait for the Lake Merritt platform (our destination) to clear before spewing another mass of people to push through the bottleneck of BART ticket gates.  Working our way through the crowds was challenging, but somehow we found the rest of our group and soon there were more and more of us from church.  At one point Rev. Molly called us to form a large circle (there were more than 75 of us there by then) and we sang, found marching buddies and generally bonded being there together.  I got a sign that read "God loves all her Children" which got me thinking about all the Trump supporters and even Trump himself, being also loved.  The crowd was very diverse, every race, age, gender and sexual preference.  It was friendly, peaceful, closely packed and everybody was happy to be there.  It was fun reading all the creative signs.  Finally, after what seemed a very long wait, two lines of yellow jacketed folks marched through the middle of the crowded street marking the beginning of the march.  It was slow, really slow going.  In an hour, we had walked only four blocks.  The very worst thing for me was being trapped by the crowd near loud cacophony--a woman pushing a bicycle with metal spoon banging an upside down pan incessantly, various drums and bells.  The police estimated 84,000 marching when 25,000 were expected.  This, my first experience of protest marching was a good one.  I don't know what effect it will have, or who Trump will blame, but I know the massive swell of humanity that felt strongly enough to go out of their way to come, to make their views known, were all affected.  I hope others watching were affected too. They went to speak out for all humanity, for civility, for tolerance, for women's rights, to make their voices heard and much much more.  It feels good to have been a part of this, to have put my body on the line for what I feel so strongly about.  

Finding Hope

"Hope is the thing with feathers--
      That perches in the soul--
And sings the tune without the words--
       And never stops--at all."
So wrote Emily Dickinson nearly a century and a half ago.  Hope seems too lightweight an attitude to have on the eve of the inauguration of Donald Trump as 45th President of the United States.  I'm registered to march in Oakland on Saturday to protest his position on women's rights.  Is it unreasonable to hope for a bright future at this dark time?  I think hope with one's eyes wide open to see the actions Trump takes and one's ears tuned to the words texted by him is important.  I want to keep perspective.  I want to be a more politically active citizen:  signing petitions, marching in protest, calling my elected officials when Trump and the Republicans and Democrats in Congress need to be held accountable.  Hope is an attitude of mind and heart that must be kept alive.  The daffodils peeking up out of the cold wet soil give me hope.  The youth give me hope.  My deeply held belief that as President Obama said "there is more good in people than bad" gives me hope.



Sent from my iPad

Obituaries

We don't generally read obituaries.  But yesterday Bob read in the newspaper that another neighbor died last Friday.  He is the 4th near neighbor to die in the last year or so.  We live on a short street with a lot of old people so it's not really unexpected. Yet it is a shock when we hear of it.  We all think our lives we go on forever, but life is ephemeral.  Our life spans are so very short in the long view of time.  I guess our minds can't really hold the idea of not being here.  We can't really get it that we will die.  When I try to think about death, I think about how I will die.  It's said one dies the way one lives.  Does that mean my death will be on time, quick, gentle?  It is a mystery I can't know, at least not now.  I do know that life is the greatest gift of all.  I want to use the days of my life to make the world a better place.  I want to live this day grateful to be alive.  

The Rose Parade

Everybody loves a parade and the Rose Parade is the Granddaddy of all parades.  We came to Pasadena with great anticipation 3 days ago for the Big Parade.  Surprisingly, I experienced it not once but in 3 parts.  The first was the night before.  We walked up Orange Grove at 9:30 pm to see the floats up close as they arrived.  It was quiet for the 1.7 mile walk up to Colorado Blvd, just friendly guards at every road-blocked corner.  The street had been shut off to traffic at 7 pm, though white-garbed Tournament of Roses members on brand new white Honda motor-scooters buzzed here and there like dragon flies.  On the way back, suddenly there were lots of other people:  people with fancy dogs, people pulling wagons with children in them, a dad on a segue pushing a stroller, tour groups, friendly people from all over.  Our favorite was a rose decorated wagon with a little girl who donned her crown of roses when we admired her and told us "I am the Rose Toddler."  Friendly crowds gathered at the floats, where we all gawked together at the extravagant flowers and remarked how the smells were of glue, not flowers.  There were two story high lights held by giant cranes that lit the street to daylight.  It was a sweet carnival happy atmosphere, magical and friendly.  The second part of the parade was our morning walk back up the length of Orange Grove from our B and B to our grandstand seats.  All the floats were in place and there were huge crowds of people taking photographs mostly with their I-Phones.  Some of the bands were lining up on the side streets as were the groups of horses.  Three long shiny red tractor-trailers housed the very pampered Budweiser Clydesdale horses who were fancied up with roses in their manes and tails.  It grew very very crowded as we reached the Parade route.  The third part of the Parade was sitting high up in the grandstand watching the Rose Parade: 96 floats, the numerous bands (many had more than 400 members) march by and the groups of horses dance by which Paul narrated reading from the program he bought.  It was an amazing spectacle, much more impressive in person than on TV, the floats are so big and colorful, the bands all play as they march, some even marched backwards!  And after the Rose parade ended, there was a parade after the parade: a long demonstration by supporters of the Indians in banning the Keystone pipeline in N. Dakota.  I thought how wonderful it is what people can do when they work together for a common goal.   The goal of the Rose Parade was to simply provide beauty and joy to all who watched it.  We did enjoy it.  What a way to bring in the New Year!!