Friends, this poem is incredible and timely. It almost made me cry, the last stanza, especially as we are in such an extraordinary time of avoiding human contact. I did not know Aracelis Girmay’s work before this poem, and now I want to know all of it.
Elegy
What to do with this knowledge that our living is not guaranteed?
Perhaps one day you touch the young branch
of something beautiful. & it grows & grows
despite your birthdays & the death certificate,
& it one day shades the heads of something beautiful
or makes itself useful to the nest. Walk out
of your house, then, believing in this.
Nothing else matters.
All above us is the touching
of strangers & parrots,
some of them human,
some of them not human.
Listen to me. I am telling you
a true thing. This is the only kingdom.
The kingdom of touching;
the touches of the disappearing, things.
I have a line on instant yeast, instant success, and gallon jugs of Tapatio if you’re running low.
This past week has proven quite fraught, emotionally speaking. I blame the full flower moon in Scorpio for my big, deep feelings.
How has it been for you? Are you still locked down, or are you making bad choices? Let me know.
Here are this week’s links. I’ll be honest – this week was a bit of a stretch to find something to share that seemed relevant and valid and not likely to prompt a slide into a deep depression. So I just have three, and one’s not even really a link. Take whatever you like and discard the rest.
SEA MONKEYS. I wanted them to work so badly. I was the child who saved her pennies and mailed away from the back of a comic book to receive a clear Zooquarium and a small packet of Sea Monkeys. After filling the cylinder with water and shaking the packet gently over the top…nothing. A lump of deceased Sea Monkeys drifted to the bottom of their tank and lay there, unceremoniously. I believe it was at that point my parents said something about wasting my money, but this writer is proving that Sea Monkeys do exist, they do spring to life. WANT.
An article in HuffPo lays out two men living a mile away from each other, one white, one black, and how their lives came together and split back apart. It’s not what you might think, and it’s an excellent read about race and our assumptions about it. It makes the connection between two seemingly disparate worlds inhabited by D. Watkins and Daniel T. Hersl, one a published author and university professor, the other a convicted felon who robbed drug dealers to turn around and sell the drugs and confiscated guns. Take some time to read this one if you have it in you this week.
Wednesday Khristian and I went for a little meander through Gwynns Falls/Leakin Park. This is less of a link, I suppose, as it is an urge to go out and explore whatever is in your own backyard, especially if you are starting to get antsy and lean towards doing dumb stuff like going out to eat or not practicing social distancing. Pick up some carryout from your favorite spot and go have a picnic. Bonus of the Leakin Park meander? It was the site of my first date with Khristian almost 4 1/2 years ago, and it was a lovely way to connect to that time again. Plus, we had been making plans to drive waaay out of town to go hiking, but there are tons of trails through the park that we can explore. Tomorrow we will bring a picnic and relax in the sunshine, safely away from anyone else enjoying the park.
That’s it for me. I hope you are all steeling your resolve and keeping safe at home. The virus continues to get more complicated as time passes, and we are not even close to knowing when this will end.
What’s your best tool for coping? How are you doing?
Left to right: a dog I don’t remember, my mom, me, and my older brother sitting on the stone wall outside the house I grew up in, circa 1972 or 1973.
Let’s face it: Mother’s Day can be problematic. It posits an idyllic relationship where none (or a difficult one) might exist. It pits women against each other in subtle ways (childless? GASP. You must be selfish. Same goes for those women who only have one child. Women with many children are consuming too many resources. Breastfeeding? If you don’t you’re a failure. Disposable diapers are for wasteful mothers who don’t care about the environment. If you don’t make your own baby food you obviously don’t care. Go back to work. Stay home. Do both. Miscarriage? When will you try again? Don’t wait. Too late. And so on).
Here is to everything that is difficult, sacred, horrible, joyous, and beautiful about mothers. Here’s to lifting mothers up; here’s to letting women choose to not be mothers. Here’s to making peace with our mothers and their mothering; here’s to finding people who nurture us every day, mothers or no.
Finally, here’s to the bad mothers. Now, read that like Samuel L. Jackson said it. That’s what I mean.
To the “Bad” Mothers
To the “bad” mothers
Mothers who are told plenty often
all the ways they ruined
everyone’s lives
To the mamas
who kept their kids
worked double shifts
set boundaries
couldn’t buy name brands
didn’t get an X-box
to be told they are bitches
To the moms who had
their kids taken from them
maybe it was the best thing
maybe it was a racist system
set up against them
maybe they were taken away
by drugs or prison
but they tried, they really tried
and every day they think
of what they lost
and hope their child is
better off
To the mothers who gave up
sent their kids away
at birth or after they tried
their very best
either way worried they
would fuck their kids up
more than abandoning them would
who believed someone better
would pick up the pieces
and give everything they
could not
To the “evil” stepmothers
and adoptive mothers
and foster mothers
who will never be enough
because they aren’t
“real”
and can’t explain why the real ones
can’t be there instead
To all the bad mothers out there
who ruin lives
by trying to love
the only way they know how
who save lives without credit
by loving what others
couldn’t be bothered to try
who are just trying to live
themselves
who never get a Mother’s Day card
Today is your day too
every day you are still
a mother
and there are no
perfect mothers
I keep coming back to the idea of being at home in the muddy water, this notion of being ok with uncertainty. Understanding that the most beautiful things come from the murk (people. lotus flowers. Sea monkeys.).
Today, though, I am struggling with the murky depths of my own self. That dark place that is hardest to peer into. The place that is fear-filled and hidden.
This was remarkably meditative, and I love it so much. #paperprawn
Well, so here we are in May. How are you?
Depending on where you live, you have been practicing social distancing for almost two months now. It’s unnerving to think of how we will interact with each other when this is sorted. I have a hard time imagining what that first dinner out will be like when the server comes over with gloves and a mask to take the order.
Ah, well. Baby steps.
Below are this week’s links. Take what you need, share this post if you are so inclined, and leave everything else.
Speaking of nothing, check out this trippy five-minute film that imagines what earth would look like as it’s swallowed into a black hole. This quote from the narration by Alan Watts seems particularly important: “Someday this will pass and there will be nothing left… That’s not something to fear because we come from nothing…and from nothing comes something new.”
Looking for something to fill the black hole of your days, those endless stretches of afternoon when you have done allofthethings but still have many hours until you can legit sit in bed with your laptop propped open, watching movies? Make your own paper prawn, then share it online (#paperprawn). I dare you.
Seems like everyone has moved from bread to cookies these days, so here’s a recipe from just last year for Daim cookies. They use pantry ingredients – toffee deliciousness, with or without chocolate. Or you could try these peanut butter sandwich cookies that taste just like Nutter Butters. I made them gluten-free, of course, and I swear to god they are one of the best things I have eaten all year.
Finally, six minutes that remind me of a time when we could, in fact, have nice things. This never fails to make me a little misty-eyed, in the good way that acknowledges the beauty that humans are capable of.
That’s it. What’s up with you this week? Have you made plans to honor thy mother this weekend?
