So, as I suspect you’ve noticed, life is crazy on a number of levels.
Therefore, I went rogue and decided to fish in the archives for something to share with you because my day got out of hand.
Hang with me, please… you may be as surprised as I was!!!
Here’s what I found, in my blog dated July 3, 2022.
…Originally, the plan involved comfort and abundance. Specifically, the local, sustainably raised turkey napping in our freezer since Thanksgiving fell apart last fall! Bill loves turkey. It’s a great example of cook once – eat a whole lot of times! It has welcome side effects of gravy and bone broth. And, it makes the house smell really, really good…
For this moment, though, my filters are in some massive transition mode as I continue to cope with the news. Some of those filters – which work hard to keep us from being utterly swamped by input from our senses and the world – have to do with history and language and beliefs and strategies.
As you probably know, one of my self-soothing strategies is The West Wing. Last night I was watching an episode having to do with the tragic, traumatic fall of a democracy in Africa.
Then, frankly, I got gobsmacked, as it were, by a lightbulb in my head. Here’s what I wrote on my perpetually present index card:
Rape is wrong because it takes away bodily sovereignty and civil rights. So is overturning Roe… and even flirting with the notion of limiting access to contraception.
Which suggests, at least to me, that most of the Supreme Court justices have lost all notion of justice. Or, and I find this more likely, that justice was never their purpose in sitting on that bench. Then, today… and this was even more traumatic than my West Wing revelation… I was watching a re-run of the recent Westminster Kennel Club dog show as I painted.
The commentators and handlers were chatting, as they do. And I was hearing familiar things like this, with new ears.
She throws gorgeous puppies, already strengthening the breed.
She’s a stunning girl who’s doing so much for me in this sport.
Now, I’ve belonged to a variety of kennel clubs in my day. I’ve handled. And entered. I helped my kid learn Junior Showmanship. And there are still a few active judges and breeders and handlers that I knew back in the day.
For the last 20 years, or so, it’s been rescue dogs at our house. That’s Sarah, in the photo. Not at all likely to have won any hardware in a breed ring, but well-intentioned in an utterly unique sort of way. And one of my biggest teachers. This morning, though, I heard with new ears.
The conversation at Westminster has a whole lot in common with what the Supreme Court is saying – in barely veiled language – about the role of women and girls.
And, just in case you hadn’t guessed… I DISSENT!
My girls are not trophies designed to make their “handlers” feel powerful and important. They’re not brood animals created to carry on superior lines of the way we’ve always done it.
And neither are any of our girls. Or women. Or humans of any sort.
This mess isn’t just bad law. It’s really, really bad theology and philosophy.
This is a glimpse of what it looks like to celebrate self and choice…
It’s not a prize to be won. It’s what it means to be human. And we ALL deserve that!
Now… fast forward to today! July 3, 2024.
There is, indeed, a turkey dry-brining in our fridge. I’m painting, between meetings. And the news is all about SCOTUS, again. And, yes… it’s worse.
The music from the play, 1776 is running through my head, thanks to a wise 8th grade English teacher who probably never imagined today. At the same time, a lot of what I’ve learned of history as I’ve researched my ancestry is spinning with the music.
Here’s the short version of my understanding in this moment:
Much of the history of the world has been about those with enough power, wanting more land and money and influence, justifying taking it from others and making them set aside their own ways and beliefs, in favor of the conquerors’.
I do, indeed, dissent.
Which brings us to a different – but related – sort of memory. Just after I finished my Intentional Creativity® teacher training in 2018, I learned a new story.
My great aunts, Mary and Alice, were hanged as witches in 1692. In Salem. They were sisters.
I was deep in the IC® journey we used to call Motherboard when I learned this part of my story. And it got harder when I dug deeper and discovered the likelihood that my aunts were sentenced by other relatives of mine.
One evening, I showed up for a group call with the amazing #JulieSteelman and she and I were the only ones present. We talked through ways to process my saddness, horror, shock, and anger. Then Julie said the thing that is with me still… and the reason this story insisted on being included here, now.
Grieve for both sides!
It helped. It still helps. And I’m grateful.
It also feels ironically timely. And I’m trying. Now. Grieving for both sides. And voting blue!
I have 2 grand-teens trying very hard to grow up in this world!
ps… hoping our Sarah, and her 4-footed siblings, are hanging out with Mary and Alice in the place beyond politics.
pps… the turkey was excellent. Way to go, Legendary Husband!