Welcome to History Class (or perhaps Her-story class)… from the other sister!

My sister teaches middle school social studies. Mostly American History. Just between us, she doesn’t sound too sure that it works the same virtually, but she’s doing her part!

The two million year old wise woman who was very busy knitting my dreams together last night seems to be quite comfortable with the whole virtual learning thing. We’ve been doing a lot of that lately! The multitude of emails waiting for me this morning proved that.

You’re about to miss Black Friday at __________________! Fill in the purveyor of whatever of your choice. About 17 of them should give you a start. And one of them was mine!

Now double those emails in number and you’ve got a good grasp on the political stack for the day. Many, many of them things I already handled yesterday! (I live in Georgia!)

Then the heart tuggers. Save the bees. Send food to… Somebody stole my car out of my driveway. Our dog is lost. And the one that never fails to blow my mind: Urgent! Urgent! Four hours ago there was a coyote near the traffic light at…

Meanwhile, my paint sisters are immersed in a conversation about curation. Curating museum shows. (Really!) Curating images. Curating consciousness. That last one is my favorite. My consciousness and – as odd as it sounds – the world’s consciousness. (Well, helping!)

If we get right down to it, curating my consciousness is a better description of what the two million year old wise woman was up to while I was dreaming.

She had a LOT of things to work with! And I spent some time before I “woke” in an odd realm where I was both conscious of the curating going on and sleeping.

Eventually, the outer world summoned me. A chilly house. A very large dog more than suggesting that it was time to go out, partially because he’s realized it’s even chillier out there than it was in here and his “people” are from Newfoundland.

Once I had opened the door, fixed tea, and weeded the email, I could feel bits of a quote rattling around in my head. After a minute or two, I got the quote, itself. Finding the source took a bit of button pushing. And there it was.

The words of author, Kathleen McGowan, placed in the mouth of a main character teaching History to adult college students.

History is not what happened, but what is written down.

Let that sink in for a minute. Think with me, please, about all the things happening in this world right now. And about all the voices clammoring to decide what gets written down.

I mean, think about it! Long, long ago, when the vast majority of literate humans were wealthy men, it was fairly easy to control what got written down. And who got access to it.

Our world is different. You and I have the technology to participate in what gets written down. And, as the Mystic Legend painting coming to life on my easel would remind us, what images get brought to form. (Believe me, they matter at least as much!)

So, in this moment, with my curator’s hat on, I can’t help but ask… What are you bringing to view? What are you writing down? What are you curating in your consciousness?

We are the artists, the authors, the curators of the moment. And those who will come after are counting on us!

ps… Voting is curating, too!