Saga in Lalaland

american flag sad.jpeg

Tuesday – I came home from some stuff and spent the next 12 hours watching my choice for #POTUS (President of the United States) go down, down, down in the polls and in the results of voting. Actually, it was the #ElectoralVote, a system created apparently by post-Civil War rejects who couldn’t tolerate the thought of free and open elections coming from areas that were settled by emancipated slaves. Go figure.

So, as the day, afternoon and evening wore on, no amount of #IPA could make me avoid the fact that the person I absolutely dreaded to be #POTUS, won the thing and there I was, hanging like that image of the tattered, war-torn banner once called the #American flag and once representing my country.

Wednesday – off to the gym to stretch and squeeze the disappointment out of my body. A blazing headache only my beloved yoga class can alleviate. And it did. I spent the day taking care of business. I called #Dell to take care of some problems with the below situation.

Thursday – Once finished with all that and home, I decided to check into a really annoying habit on my #Windows laptop, aka Perdia. Perdia hung on start-up. No response to clicked commands and it was getting bad.

A call to #Dell put me in touch with Musatafa, and his supervisor, and to make a long story short, we started a reset, which means I would have a completely new (whoohoo) setup after like a couple of hours. Jim and I went to dinner, and when I came back, whatever I did that morning, i.e., download some routine-looking updates from Microsoft, completely blew up my hard drive. For whatever reason, a bit of finagling with Mustafa and his supervisor put me in the queue for a technician to come to a house call, as it were, and that’s where I stand now.

Let’s see if this ongoing brouhaha settles on the side of satisfaction. Lalaland has never been so invaded by viruses, infections, and bad choices for our Country. It’s supposed to be ’tis of thee sweet land of liberty. Not what it’s become.

And poor Perdia, like me, is still waiting for her heart and soul to be restored.


Thoughts on the Election

As we continue to reel from the potential disaster that is the recent election, and its effects on our country, on us, I’m going to try to put some thoughts here as I come across them. But here is one to start:


What Needs to be Said

Finally a day to vote, a historic, unprecedented day after a disgusting, horror-filled misogynistic and unfair witch-hunt of a campaign lasting over a year.

And what do you think? #Trump the “other” guy, an old man wearing a wig and constantly licking his dentures while speaking, or not, is proving to be a sore loser. As if being a rapist, cheater, liar, evil fear mongering jerk weren’t enough, he is now opposing the results.

Hey old guy – we the people, the people, people, have spoken. We don’t want you. We want our America to be what it is. It is great. It stands as a shining example of freedom, justice, progress to all the planet. Let’s remember who we are and let’s move on.

We are speaking today.


Addendum: We lost.


My Vote Better Count!

At last, America, you have found that potential leader who is all the things you yearn for, since the days of “women’s lib” and “black power,” to mention a few. Things were so sweet when men had control. When you could holster your six-shooter and take out anyone who you didn’t like, who looked like they were trouble. When you could call a spade a spade, a kike a kike. And finally, finally, here is someone who will not only be happy to have you once again be liberated from all sorts of political correctness, but who himself lives the simple, pure life you used to hold dear. At least when he is not residing in his gold-lined suite atop his mid-Manhattan skyscraper.

Well, then, bring it on, America. Who needs safe, secure access to reproductive procedures? Who needs control over their uterus and Fallopian tubes? Why do women have to bemoan the lack of support from our candidate and his minions, when they seek affordable, truthful healthcare for themselves, and yes, their male partners. For #PlannedParenthood, for all its glamour as a “racial purity” program, has helped millions over the years, to education and services they would not otherwise be able to afford or even hear about.

And once that is gone, as promised, we women will be free once again to use our wire hangers on ourselves, and dig tunnels to various clinics, while the clinics are burned and the service providers hanged in burning effigy. I do look forward to that day, although my own private parts are MIA and probably on a trash heap somewhere, helpless to partake of the party.

I’m looking forward to deportation squads collecting and removing those hardworking men and women who have tried to join us in citizenship, and our candidate will work hard to make that even harder. That will be useful, but it will possibly separate children, who are already having nightmares, from their caretakers. Oh, what fun.

I want sincerely to believe, I really want to believe, that the earth is a mere 6,000 years old. I want to stand with those who hold the banners high for the rapture, and who can’t care a bit about what goes on on our home planet. Extinction, icecap melting, all in God’s plan. So it is okay, I guess. I’m still waiting for that flash of light. I’m still on the road to Damascus.

I’m looking forward to young people paying tuition loans way into their 40’s, and to how that will impact their own children. Even the ones born with severe birth defects who need millions of dollars to breathe with assistance. That sounds like an ideal way to treat a society, or a kid.

My cultural bent is backwards. Ass-backwards. There are ways to encourage self-fulfillment, education, science, a way out of the mess we have created and are leaving our children to live in.

Maybe in four years, if old people like me can survive marches, standoffs, abuse, ignorance, we will realize how lucky we are to have a choice. And be damned if you misuse that privilege to oppress and harm those who are coming after.

Art as Ritual – a Search for Meaning

This is attributed to Pablo Picasso – The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.  

Picasso was well aware of the importance of self-expression, as these words indicate. This one reminds me that the creation of a ritual, such as SisterCircle does, requires a release from the ordinary. I find that to be true, whether it’s a personal project or a turn of the Wheel of the Year.

I wonder, as I explore the many layers of circles that surround me, as I come into and out of my experiences, whether art is an expression of a journey, a ritual. And those among us who put something on paper, or create something to be seen, are we simply performing our own rituals. So, it seems when I create something, I am performing one. It takes me from the dust of everyday life.

Just as the purpose of a ritual for me varies with the time of the year, the purpose of my art varies. Sometimes I look for an interesting subject. Or maybe a story in the image. Or just play with colors. Actually, my visual expressions require many of the same qualities as a ritual done by SisterCircle, for example.

Here are the steps.

  • Gather materials and choose a site
  • Assign the contributors’ roles
  • Choose the medium – size, color, texture
  • Perform the creative activity
  • And, finally, Offer the results for viewing

SisterCircle has a tradition… and that tradition centers around the Wheel of the Year. We’ve been creating and participating in rituals for over 23 years. Together, we hatch a plan, do all of the preparation, and execute the design. Many times I have marveled at how it all comes together, even at times when some of us are ill, or too busy to come, or out of town. It just works.

Now, one of the differences in creative actions is the goal. Perhaps the goal is the experience of someone outside the creator. In a religious ritual, on the other hand, the goal is the involvement of a group, large or small.

In my art, does it matter? Is that how other artists look at their work? I don’t know. Imagination is personal. As are some rituals.

I found this, by one Sharon Devlin:

The purpose of ritual is to change the mind of the human being. It’s sacred drama in which you are the audience as well as the participant and the purpose of it is to activate parts of the mind that are not activated by everyday activity. . . As for why ritual, I think that human beings have a need for art and art is ritual. I think that when we became sapient, we became capable of artistic expression.

Rituals are mindfulness, generosity, self-reflection, meditation, above all, an expression of our connection to each other, to ourselves and to the world. Blessed Be.