Rise Up and Ride

Never, no never, did nature say one thing and wisdom say another.  (Edmund Burke)

Heading to Wichita years ago for a Sunday dinner with my husband’s parents, a stiff breeze buffeted our car.

“Look out for that bird!” I yelled. “Why do they do that?”

“Do what?” Craig asked from the driver’s seat.

“Fly at the car. You know, when we’re driving along, it seems like most of the birds sitting on the roadside wait until we’re almost there and then jump into our path. Haven’t you noticed? That last one was a close call.”

“You’ve heard of bird brains, haven’t you?”

“Very funny. Well then, why don’t half of them fly the other way? No wonder so many birds get hit by cars.”

“There’s another reason.”

“What’s that?”

“The wind. It depends what direction the wind is blowing. Watch. There are a couple of meadowlarks up on the crest of the next hill. They will jump into the wind—right at us—to get airborne.”

I studied the larks as we approached. Sure enough, just before we achieved the crest, they each leapt directly into the path of our car. They swerved sharply and fluttered to the north, over a dormant winter pasture.

“Why not just fly away from the car to begin with?”

“They get lift a lot faster if they jump into the wind,” he said.

“Really? You mean they couldn’t fly if they didn’t meet the wind head-on?”

“Pretty much. It probably depends on wind velocity. I think if the wind isn’t too strong, they could take off with a breeze, but it would take more effort to get airborne going with the wind. You see how they turn and go with the wind once they get in the air?”

We watched another pair of meadowlarks follow the same pattern.

“They know they can get up faster heading into the wind, and if the wind is too strong they won’t get lift unless they face into it,” he said.

~~

Since the inauguration of #47, I have felt like one of those larks. A barrage of insane and appalling executive orders sweeps from the White House with category 5 hurricane force, devastating every state in the union regardless of geographic location or political leaning. I don’t know how to begin to resist the devastation, or even to absorb all the news. You may feel the same way. But unless we get out there to face the onslaught and jump headlong into the gale force winds, we’re sunk. In whatever way each of us can manage, we need to launch against the wind of insanity and rise above it to soar toward a better future. Don’t run. Don’t hide. Don’t ignore the news. Instead, rise up and ride on the wings of the wind. It will make a difference for our future.

Wisdom of Geese

I’ve been trying to figure out what the first step in resistance to tyranny should look like in my life.(Timothy Snyder–“Do not obey in advance.”)

I think perhaps it’s simple: just keep on keepin’ on. I will attempt to do what I do, to be who I am called to be, to stand for my values and ethics through every avenue available to me, as long as I am able.

That step was confirmed by the geese I watched this morning. On my daily route across the pasture, a flock of Canadian geese swept into the sky from their morning pursuit of gleaning seeds from a field across the road. The immediate and overwhelming cacophony stopped me in my tracks. Something had spooked the winged crowd and they all took flight. The racket drowned out even highway noise. They circled for a few minutes, settled quietly down again, and returned to being the geese they were called to be. Kept on. Flew on. Settled down, and returned to their geesehood pursuits.

 

Yes. That’s it. “Do not obey in advance.” Doesn’t mean to ignore stimuli (bad news, calls to action), but do not let it take over my life either. Keep on keepin’ on.

 

As Edmund Burke said, “Never, no never, did Nature say one thing and Wisdom say another.”

 

On the Verge

Remember what it was like. After a long wait, it finally happened. With guarded optimism, you look forward to the big event. Though you know things can happen, chances are you won’t be in that slim margin. So you dance. You laugh. You hug everyone and share the good news. You imagine life after the event, the realization of a dream come true. The anticipation of anniversaries, holidays, and journeys to wondrous locations, savoring the unfettered excitement as your long-awaited dream discovers the world. Never a dull moment. Of course there will be challenges, but nothing you can’t work through and be stronger for it. You look forward to years of living, loving, and learning together.

Until there are none.

It all comes crashing down. Something was wrong at a routine checkpoint. No  heart beat. Emergency trip to the hospital. Before you have time to process the news, joy morphs into heartbreak. A birth becomes a funeral. It’s over. Dreams die hard.

After November 5, it struck me how similar the election loss was to the loss of an infant. Though it’s been decades ago, I feel the same sad aimless wandering and hopelessness with the election results as with my two sweet babes who died before they had a chance to live. Gone are the anticipated celebrations and birth anniversaries. Gone are all the anticipated years of discovering the world together. Gone are the memories and the history I looked forward to making.

Every morning brings more bad news to my inbox and I move through life on the verge of tears, almost—yet not quite—ready to open the floodgates.

How will I manage the coming hard times? How will I step forward, keep moving, go through the motions, when my heart is sorely wounded? How can I show up for others when I can’t even manage to cheer myself up? Where did all the good in the world, all the anticipated conquests of our precarious future—where did they go?

One of the writers I follow suggested asking two questions every day.

  • What do I still know and believe as truth?
  • Is my heart still beating?

In other words, my values remain and I can embrace them until my dying breath. It reminds me of the weeks and months following the burials of my sweet babes. It’s been forty years. (Almost 43 for the first and 42 for the second.) How did I work through the devastation?

Perhaps some things I did then will help now too. I journaled regularly, poured my soul onto pages in my notebooks. With tiny locks of hair and photos that spoke to me, I made lockets and hung them near my heart. Little by little, I dared to venture forth. I told myself I would make choices and take actions—small at first—but I would do it for the lost children. I would live for those who didn’t have the chance, and I would face each day for the sake of my lost loved ones. I would do my best to make a good life. For them.

I don’t know what lies ahead, though I face it with a certain amount of dread. I can only work with what is here, today, and do my best to make a difference for my family and for as many others as I can.

Do all the good you can,
By all the means you can,
In all the ways you can,
In all the places you can,
At all the times you can,
To all the people you can,
As long as ever you can.
― John Wesley

Just for today: I will help someone celebrate

It hasn’t escaped my notice that even during the consternation of the election aftermath, there are people in my life who have reached milestones. In the last week:

My husband and best friend celebrated his birthday.

One young piano technician achieved her registered status by successfully completing the required series of exams.

One immigrant friend was received into full American citizenship after successful completion of the requirements laid out in our constitution.

Our grandson earned his first letter in high school athletics.

And I celebrate with each of these people in achieving part of their hopes and dreams.

Just for today: I will meet with like-minded friends

There are ways to connect with friends and help each other. Socialization is a human need, and to stay in isolation will not help in our self-care.

In-person gatherings of grassroots resistance organizations already in place meet regularly in many places. There are also online options through digital communities at least for the present time, where we can share what’s on our hearts and minds, and pray together for guidance and strength.

Many substack writers offer almost daily support and ideas. Some of my favorites are Dan Rather, Heather Cox Richardson, John Pavlovitz, Robert Hubbell, Jess Piper, and Andra Watkins. If you have the means, you can subscribe and support these writers, but quite a few will share thoughts at no cost. While we still can access them, check out what they have to say.

Just for today: I will smile at a stranger.

According to the stats I found online, 69% of the people in my county–my neighbors–voted for Donald Trump. That means that it’s likely that 7 of 10 people I meet in the store, on the street, at a school function, or in any public area, voted against democracy for whatever reason. Perhaps it doesn’t matter why at this point.

But, with a nod to Henry David Thoreau, “What I have to do is to see, at any rate, that I do not lend myself to the wrong which I condemn.”

I cannot allow the apparent majority to squelch my spirit.

Three out of those 10 people are as shocked and devastated as I am. Just for today, I will share a smile with any stranger who catches my eye in one tiny act of kindness and fellowship that at least might lift someone’s spirit, and might even embolden another to take the first steps of resistance that we are sure to need.

Just for Today: I will review my values in life

About 30 years ago, through a program that our daughter enrolled in as a troubled teenager, we went through several group counseling sessions as her parents, to come to terms with issues we might be facing that would impact our ability to parent. In one of them, we were required to define what values we held, and to define our life’s purpose.

Here is what I defined then as my values, and reaffirm today.

I value:

  1. Creativity, both Divine and human. This includes Creation itself, Reverence for Life in all forms, the beauty of the natural world, art, music, literature. I recognize that fine art, music and literature are rooted in the mysteries and magic of the natural world.
  2. Harmony, life fitting pleasantly. Aside from the obvious musical connection, this includes cooperation, love, honesty, integrity, generosity, security, commitment, family, church, clubs, service, communication and compromise.
  3. Education, being a student for life. This includes an openness of heart, continual learning, exploration and adventure, which leads to growth in mind and spirit.

These make me the person I aim to be. It’s a continuing process, but I want to hang onto my values, no matter what.

Just for Today: I Will Make Music

My teen years were challenging and I often vented my frustrations at home, pounding out my favorite classical compositions on our home piano.

I find playing the keys a valuable release again, now that I’m enrolled in piano lessons as a retiree. It does help. There is music for every mood, and every situation.

Though listening to your favorite play lists helps, I recommend getting involved and making some music of your own.

If you don’t play an instrument, sing along with your preferred artists at the top of your voice. Belt it out. Join friends and sing. Ring some bells. Shake a tambourine.

If we don’t feel it yet, we are likely to soon enough.

Maya Angelou: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. 

Look her up. We will make music now and forever.

 

I will find something beautiful provided by Nature

Last month I attended a few presentations at the Kansas Book Festival in Topeka. The one I remember most was by author and administrator at Haskell Indian Nations University Daniel R. Wildcat. I bought his book, On Indigenuity: Learning the Lessons of Mother Earth, a long essay on what indigenous peoples can teach the rest of us about protecting our miraculous home planet. I have long been concerned about protecting the home we share with all life forms, including people around the world and millions of other species. When greed and lust for power impact the lives of innocents around the world, I am enraged. Destruction of the biosphere that sustains us is now threatened with acceleration. Communities of wild things and minority populations will be the first to feel the impact.

In the early pages of his book, Daniel Wildcat recommended that we should become more familiar with Nature. One thing which compounds and complicates the rampant destruction of our planet is our distance from the elements. We sit inside our comfortable homes in front of screens far too much, and should become more familiar with how the natural world near us is impacted by our decisions and policies. To that end, today I decided I would walk the deer trails on my small patch of virgin tall grass prairie and look for the beauty in Nature. Even if you aren’t close to a 40-acre meadow, you can still take a walk and feel the fresh air and sunshine, listen to whatever birds are in the trees lining the streets, and enjoy the colors of autumn.

These scenes are from my morning walk today.

Sweetgum tree in our front yard, blazing orange.

A fallen Osage orange, with closely fitted puzzle-piece segments. No two alike. Just like people.

One of the two pine trees on our place, laden with pinecones. I keep wondering when the pine bark beetles will invade, but so far we’ve been lucky.

A backlit patch of little bluestem, with fluffs of seeds gleaming like a field of fallen stars.

One of my favorite grasses: Indian grass. The seedheads are still there, though they are far more impressive earlier in the autumn season. This reminds me of Native American writers that I admire, including Daniel Wildcat and Robin Wall Kimmerer. Kimmerer’s book Braiding Sweetgrass changed my life during the Covid shutdown.