47: Week 20

It's been almost a month since I last wrote, and while my intention when I began this was to chronicle weekly, sometimes life happens and my discipline to sit and write wanes. I haven't stopped keeping up with the daily horrors and chipping away of rights; I haven't stopped my outrage; I haven't stopped taking action when there is action that makes sense for me. 

Since the news of yet another overt authoritarian act of this regime (the deployment of National Guard troops to Los Angeles), I keep thinking of CSNY's "Ohio" and how innocent people were murdered by armed government backed military forces sent in to stop peaceful and legal protests. I worry about bloodshed. I think of Rodney King. George Floyd. I keep scouring my local organizations to see what protests are being set up nearby. I will make calls to my representatives. I will try to channel my outrage into action.

I am honestly again feeling that sense of being overwhelmed. The list of outrage and worry continues. The horrendous budget bill is still filled with cuts that will upend and destroy many people's lives and access to the care and protection they need. It is filled with hidden opportunities for the regime to not be held accountable for any actions. It is filled with a path that will continue to bolster its authoritarianism and make democracy a word once associated with this country.

Taken near the Otowi Bridge

And yet, I try not to fall into that doom. Recently, Nan and I took a ten day road trip to New Mexico, exploring the vast beauty of its varied lands. Lush green, dry stretches of land with occasional cattle grazing, mountains, plains. Small towns. Abandoned downtowns. Vibrant artsy communities. National parks. As we drove, I wondered what would happen to this land in the decades to come. We visited the town of Los Alamos, passing numerous government tech sites with signs saying no photos. We spent time with the aliens in Roswell. We treated ourselves to a few days of soaking at Ojo Caliente. It felt rejuvenating.

We began our road trip in Santa Fe to attend their annual literary festival. Talks by Percival Everett, Terry Tempest Williams, and Heather Cox Richardson, reminded me of the power of words and the necessity of art. The timing was perfect, since tomorrow I begin a weeklong writing workshop with Eileen Myles as part of Denver's Lighthouse Writers' Annual Lit Fest. I don't know what I will generate or what will inspire me. I do know that for 2.5 hours a day, for five days, I will write and talk about writing, immersed in language, doing something that I don't always nurture but that always nurtures me.

I hope in these troubled times you continue to find things that nurture you. That you look up at the sky and see wonder or perhaps a great big horned owl fly out of a tree (which I saw last weekend) and marvel at the immensity of its wings and power. That you have community that helps ground and support you when the day's headlines shatter the brightness of morning. That you take moments to be still and breathe in beauty, even when that beauty seems to be clouded by darkness, even when laughter feels like a distant friend. Hope can be found.