47: Week 29

 

Provincetown Causeway

Weeks pass, and some days I can manage to forget the horrors of the regime and the times we're living in. Weeks pass, and I say to myself that next week I will write and chronicle a bit of how I am dealing/living in these times. The picture on the left felt fitting for this moment-- a path only visible during low tide, a path that moves between points, a path that can strand you on an island if you don't pay attention to the tide. 

Some days it feels like it is a constant high tide, waves lapping page after page of news grinding at my heart, addling my brain. Too difficult to digest beyond the headline. Some days the path appears and anchors me, takes me through the days and connects me back to choices that nourish and make my heart full.

When the regime began, I knew that one of the my biggest coping strategies, nurturing community, would be the primary way I could get through difficult times. Over the past several weeks, that's proven again to be what lifts me up. Several weeks ago, Nan and I set off to Massachusetts for a family gathering and a bit of vacay. We began in Salem, Massachusetts, a town filled with reminders of a dark past, a past motivated by intolerance and disregard for life. While on a history tour that related a lot about the Puritans and their attitudes towards those who believed other than them, Nan and I both felt like some of the things happening then felt too familiar to our current regime and the environment of hate. There have been many moments of Salem in our dark history, and yet hope can change some of the narrative. Today, Salem is a welcoming place. Paganism is widespread and celebrated, along with queer flags welcoming a wide community. 

After a day of touring Salem, we were off to our family reunion. In 1955, my mother and her cousins and some of their parents established the Newman Family Circle as a way to keep family connected. In the early days, they met often, sometimes monthly, but after awhile, several times a year. Once a year, we'd gather for a picnic, a time for kids to romp together, and adults to laugh and make future plans. As my parents generation aged, my generation did not do well in keeping this circle together as an annual event. But this year, thanks to several of us, we reunited, 20+ strong, spending many hours catching up, laughing, and reminding ourselves of this historic connection. We didn't grouse about politics. We didn't grouse about the environment. We stayed in the light, buoyed by our connection. That community filled my heart, and now several weeks later, I can still draw on all that love.

Nan and I also finally visited Provincetown for the first time. And this queer mecca did not disappoint. We didn't feel othered, and instead, felt a part of the community, welcomed, surrounded by advertisements for drag shows, gay comedy, queer bookstores. We stayed at an inn/hotel where the guests were gay men, lesbians, and straight couples, all friendly, hanging in a pool together, idle chit chat establishing community for the time we were together. 

Sometimes that connection for me is a simple phone call, which honestly isn't really simple since I don't enjoy talking on the telephone. But I find that when I do have those live conversations with friends who live in places where we don't visit often, my heart feels full. I count myself fortunate that I spoke for several hours with two very dear friends yesterday, catching up, sharing some of our doom, our struggles, our restlessness, but also sharing conversations about books, music, what feeds our hearts.

I hope your community helps you across the causeway when the tide is low.