We don’t all know it yet, but it is. Most of us can feel it. We feel something. The option for not feeling is no longer available, unless you are deeply committed to self numbing alternatives. Disassociation still works sometimes. But even that is a conscience effort in response to knowing that something is being felt.
Reader friends, if you are still out there, I am in a place completely unexpected. Not ideal, mind you, but not all in a bad way of the unexpected.
So now what? Is being broke through woke through? And what EVEN can that mean?
I have of late - but wherefore I know not - lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily against my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; the most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire - why it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. (Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2 by Shakespeare)
Spoiler Alert – I had my first go-around with COVID. SonHerisme was mostly spared (which may or may not be an okay-ish thing). MotherHerisme landed in the hospital for a few weeks, followed by a few more weeks at a rehabilitation facility.
I am struggling to wrap my mind around what seems to be the standard COVID PR messaging where this viral infection is like any other cold or flu virus we see every year. This comparison is absolutely scientifically complete horseshit, but we (including health care and others in public health leadership roles) are lapping this PR up like thirsty puppies having spent days lost in a desert, or Swifties/anti-Swifties melting over glimpses of the newish Americana “it” couple. Until we get this gaslighting righted, we are f*cked.
I am okay and grateful to the g-ds of vascular/breathing body bits plus access to meds and nourishing foods, that I am.
COVID/war/how we treat vulnerable people, and our collective responses are truly congregations of foul and pestilent vapors. About 400 years ago Shakespeare called out humanity in multiple ways for our dedication to being inhumane. There are of course, pockets of helpers even though inhumane behaviors are the prominent societal trope. Despite technological advancements, access to vetted information, and connectivity, we struggle to get our shit together over the most obvious and simple things. We are what we are, I suppose. But I’d rather not spend what little precious time we have left to know each other and love our families/friends/community, on addressing needless dumpster fire end-of-human-times level behaviors. Alas, they do/will need addressing. But, wouldn’t y’all rather meet up for a hot cocoa or even cold cocoa (outside, distanced, natch).
Also, this blog is going away.
It isn’t you – it’s me. I’m the problem, it’s me. I have been “discovered” and this is no longer a safe space for me.
I will continue to write and possibly blog elsewhere. If you’re interested in following me to a new blank space, please send a message and I’ll respond with where the “coming soon” will be coming soon.
This journey has been deeply spiritually meaningful to me. I appreciate all of the space you have held for me, my wandering brainiac, my intense situations, and silly little wordsy waltzing hither and thither.
You all are simply the best of the best, of that I am 100% sure.
Love, Ms Herisme xoxo
ps. While I am not in a position of being counted among the Swifties group, I am in full support of living your best life by courageously showing up creatively and bravely sharing yourself and your work in positive, clever, vulnerable, and inclusive ways.
pps. I am sending out as much love from my heartsoul as you can receive! Meetcha out on the deck sometime soon.
Memories… light the corners of my mind. Belt out Streisand – BELT IT OUT. And also, noise canceling headphones at the ready just in case you are in my belt-out zone. On My Own as well because SonHerisme’s sweet High School is performing Les Misérables in the spring. *I will not sing* *I will not sing* *I will not mouth the words* *I will not mouth the words to every single song* I will, I will cry at every performance because that is how I do. Talent Show? Cried. Rock of Ages? Cried. Ensemble performance? Cried. Jazz Night? Cried. Marching Band 1/2time show. Cried. Rock set in the bar? Cried. Beauty and the Beast? Full on cried. Live performances where humans are putting themselves out there in full earnestnesses, no matter the content (usually), I will be crying. Flash mob will result in crying from this she/her lady person human. I do how I do. My eyes are green with white/yellow eyelashes. Crying adds the needed touch of red to both eyeballs and surrounding cry-puffed skin – perfect compliments for the ultimate, “awwww how moving (or bat-shit crazy),” look.
I mean, who isn’t crying these days, really? I bought a box – a BOX – of sympathy cards the other day because there is so much swirling about everywhere. Even if we cannot see it, we know it is there lurking in the corners of everyone. Which has always been the way of being humans, I suppose. I wonder if it feels so much more everywhere because we are all so overtly connected and experiencing massive amounts of collective grief on a global scale. Yet we are by-and-large refusing to use our powers of empathy/grace/courtesy/healthy approaches to collectively address the fundamental causes.
Dear Humans, I implore you to cease inflicting pain on anyone anywhere. Reach out with kindnesses and with graceful mutual respect of best interests. Please and thank you (on repeat from my privileged naïve soul listening to string dominant Christmas music). But please please please *fingers crossed* It's been around 6 million years, humans. Get your shit together. Or not. The pretending that horror/pain/grief is not what it is, and shoving it into corners, is the most difficult sometimes.
Anywho – how are you? How are you, really? If you need an irl card in the mail, please message me and I will send one to you, wherever you are, to remind you that you are worthy as you are, and not alone. I use a mailing spot locally owned and operated by a military veteran, so you’d be doing my community a solid by requesting a card AND it would be so fun to send out mail! NiecesHerisme and SonHerisme have enjoyed little reminders of love through the mail over the years – and a few of you have been subject to this habit too (thank you for being so kind as to receive these).
If you’d like a lovely story reminder from a few years back, please follow this link and enjoy. It’s the memories of a sweet couple falling in love through sonnets in North Carolina, USA. So squeezy cozy for a December full of worldwide collective bittersweetness (or all out bitter in many instances).
I hope that you have your favorite meal, your favorite person, your favorite pet, your favorite little blanket, your favorite beverage, and an engaging book to enjoy or memories of enjoying, to hold this month and every month. If you’re stopping by here, cardamom tea and squash soup are at the ready for you!
ps our tiniest doggy, Spicey girl, died suddenly last week. Along with BrotherHerisme’s partner’s father. As well as my graduate school friend’s mother. And the veterinarian’s dog. My friend’s niece had precarious travel out/in a war-torn area of the Middle East. We are all restless with grief. New rituals are coming.
For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen; a gaseous nebula must collapse.
So collapse.
Crumble.
This is not your destruction.
This is your birth.
~Zoe Skylar, poet
It is that time of day, that time of the month, that time of year, that time of the decade, that time of a generation, that time of a millenia, that time in history where we have hit the swirls of things in such a way that a seasonal change tipped with atmospheric significance means something to many looking for the grounding/footing of hope/optimism in the face of stark realities, or perhaps just plain and simple purpose/meaning. It is permission to speak of things we find resonate with us in a holy deep down soul-y way.
I am getting used to being alive in a world butterfly-affected for me by the absence of my father, community changes, global realities, and my own inner world dynamic playwriting the acts and scenes of my life.
You know – saying farewell to the season of homemade cherry limeades and such where pithy citrus bits find their way into nooks and crannies of a well-loved cutting board. Or coveted dragon fruit juicy juices stains. Or unexpected maple tree saplings thriving where once there was an herb garden. Or witnessing a developing street-cleaning group on our twisty turny rural road. Or SonHerisme beginning his path to driving. Or the lovely masonry repair on the front stoop. Or NiecesHerisme having successfully shipped off to universities. Or the arrival of new bras since my transition into crone phase seems to be sweeping out some of the fluff.
Things are moving in unanticipated and anticipated directions.
Which is to say, I finally went in for a physical and lady exam (thanks Barbie, for the peer pressure to follow-through!). Some things need immediate attention but nothing too dire.
Also I saw a meteor/dying star dramatically zoom to its brilliant death over our heads at the senior night celebratory “pink out” football game this past Friday (nods to Barbie and cancer, I suppose?).
Because life is what it is, we continue to support murder killing fascist authoritarian behaviors, which sucks. One could argue in the past – well, they did not know any better. Well, they were not given the opportunity to evolve or be compassionate. Well, they did not have access to understanding or information to lead to understanding. But, nope. Turns out we are just assholes hell bent on forcing zero sum games whenever and wherever. Good job us! Pat ourselves on the the back! Let me know when we have reached the pinnacle of forcing submission, total control, or obliteration of whatever group of humans we deem unworthy of being human so that I can cheer and applaud you with all of the accolades and applauses I have…
Gen Z is coming for you. Unless you succeed with squashing them with repeated viral infections.
It is apparent to me that it is none of my business to even ask – when is enough, enough? When will we have targeted or murdered enough humans? When will we have removed enough access to health care from enough humans? When will we have burned/ banned enough books/access to information? When will we have dehumanized and other-ed enough humans to satisfy our thirst for ultimate entitlement and control?
In the meantime, I earned $6.40 by recycling metals from my home. I donated adult diapers and used medical equipment to our local Rescue Mission. Like you, I grocery shopped, cooked meals, did laundry, and cleaned the things. I continue to attempt parenting a teen, volunteer in my community, and provide day-to-day 24/7 care to MotherHerisme. I sent my court orderedweekly progress reports #376-#410 as a batch. I meditate and send comfort, peace, and love out to every living thing, with special attention to those suffering or frightened.
I can make some soup and tea for you – and a batch of cookies.
Over and over in my head:
I can be brown, I can be blue, I can be violet sky
I can be hurtful, I can be purple, I can be anything you like...
And then a little:
I couldn't figure it out, if you wrote it all down, please write down
How, how do you love me right now?
Plus some:
And I know, its only in my mind
That I'm talking to myself and not to him
Rounded out with:
I don't want french fried potatoes, red ripe tomatoes
I'm never satisfied
I want the frim fram sauce with the oss-en-fay with sha fafa on the side.
I guess I am however I am and the world will be as it is. UNICEF, Doctors without Borders, World Central Kitchen donations going out from my house. Trying to allow the feelings to be what they are while pushing out comfort, love, and peace *sigh* I just do not know that there is anything else to be done. Live. Find moments of joy and grace as we can. This is my crumble collapse.
Also, can we please get Colin Farrell or Matthew Goode to quietly record every single audiobook, or even just lists of things or poetry, please and thank you?
Friends, Romans, country(wo)men, and sentient beings all around, lend me your ears. I come to bury occasional things, not to praise them (unnecessarily).
The evil men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones (from Julius Caesar, spoken by Marc Anthony, written by William Shakespeare)
So let it be with the occasional things….
O judgement! thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason. Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there (...) and I must pause till it come back to me (from Julius Caesar, spoken by Marc Anthony, written by William Shakespeare)
FatherHerisme loved this speech and quoted it many times over his 83 years. I mean to say that it is stunning to be a world where he no longer physically exists. He was steady and explosive. He was wise and clueless. He was a curious learner and blind to some hard truths. He was my dad who wanted to be remembered as my “pop who was carbonated!” He would have guffawed and cried at the Barbie movie for all of its punchy points at societal flips/missed expectations. He was more than Kenough.
With FatherHerisme goes the knowing of parental guidance and safety (whether real or imagined), buried among the personality, smell, touch, conversation (which was indeed a challenging effervescent carbonation), books, ephemera (a zillion books and santa-embellished suspenders), and the hidden secrets of a life we only understood through our distorted vision from the outside.
Like many of you with your loved ones who have died, there will never be a day where I do not miss his presence. His brain understood my brain, and for that I am lucky and grateful. I am so glad he is not in any more pain. I am so glad he left some support for us to find and encourage freedoms and the betterment of lives around us. This is his legacy. We are his legacy. I hope we can queue up to carry on all of the best things – especially as we grab the torch (as we can) to continue generational healing where he could not.
Sidenote: I loved Barbie. I loved all of the clothes and accessories; all of her iterations; all of her potential. I loved changing everything about her all of the time. I had Barbies with cut/burnt/markered hair, tattoos, marker make-up, and all of the imagined interesting twists on life (including leaf-clothes only). I had Barbies who were treated like royalty (Ballerina Barbie) and never ever scarred or introduced to dirt. I had Ken dolls who performed for Barbie. When Ken was too busy (or lost somewhere) G.I. Joe, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, a weary Benjamin Franklin, and the most beloved Lando Calrissian were always at the ready to fill in for whatever Barbie needed. I made use of my brother’s dolls (ahem, figurines, I suppose). With money being tight my Barbie collection could all fit into one grocery bag, including all of the clothes/cars/furniture/blankets/pillows/spaceship/stick houses I made on my own. I was in middle school when my mother purchased a set of handmade wooden Barbie-sized furniture from a local church Christmas bazzare. It seems so incongruous with middle school today, and perhaps it was then as well (?) but I was thrilled beyond belief! I still have it all packed away somewhere. For what? I do not know. Maybe it will bring a chuckle moment to SonHerisme when it comes time to disperse and bury the ephemera of me. Cue the curation of a future walk of mourning – as the occasional things queue up to be buried. I suppose this is what happens while waiting for your heart to come back to you from the buried coffin of another life.
Life sure is something. I suspect Death is as well.
ps. Currently reading: Enchantment by Katherine May, Persuaders by Anand Giridharadas, 101 Essays that will Change the Way You Think by Brianna Wiest, and Pineapple Street by Jenny Jackson.
pps Yesterday was my birthday. I am queued to crone. Gyno appt next week. Saw Barbie yesterday with a fabulous pink polka-dotted jumpsuited friend. I did not eat Thai food (saving that for the weekend with SonHerisme).
ppss Sinead was a magical mystical awareness blossoming heroine of mine. I admired that she defiantly refused to pander for anyone’s appreciative gaze. I made a Barbie Sinead before I knew what that implied or meant – Barbie underneath the Barbie. Buzz cut with nail polish remover applied to remove her face and feet cut off in order to fit into GI Joe’s boots and Ken’s sneakers. She was best friends with perfection Ballerina Barbie, natch.
pssssst Speaking of barbeques… I do not like bbq sauce or meat, but I like the idea of hanging out by a fire with good company, Olipop rootbeer, hummus on beefsteak tomatoes, and brow-lifting conversations. Unless the world burns itself up first or we all covid ourselves outta here, in which case… Barbie-queue up in pink to synchronize dance with a tra-la, it’s been real. Hug your neighbor. Take care of yourself. Ciao. Herisme out.
(Not the kind which helps emo hero Jedi locate the secret Sith world of Exegol)
(my 4/23 photo)
(or listen here)
Teachers, therapists, swimming, hiking, nutrition, habit formations or breakers, and all of the things which help us find ways to meet our whole presence, futures, or purpose. Although defining and finding purpose is broadly daunting – sort of similar to finding a passion. For some of us it seems fairly straightforward – not so much for the rest of us.
I am fairly certain that my wayfinder was dropped on its head multiple times as a newborn and has never been quite right since. Always a little bit tiltly or entirely shut down in a dream world of its own. Somehow I continue to will it into shining a faint dim light onto a path I am fully convinced will work… until everything tilts, nothing works as expected, and I land even further from where I thought I should be going. Sometimes for the better, sometimes *sigh*
Anywhosies… Anyone still out there? Sweatergawt it has been a hawt minute. Thank you for plodding along and popping in every once in a while to see if I am around. I am grateful and glad that anyone is reading and finding some comfort in being lost alone together in this life. While I have probably aged out of having a wayfinder at this point… Here I am once again, I’m torn into pieces, can’t deny it, can’t pretend, just thought I’d find a path (tra la la la K.Clarkson has her ways and I have mine). Blerg
I am okay. That is the bottom line. I am okay. Somehow during the mundane focus, a large chunk of my anxiety has deeply dropped. Why and how? A flip switched. It felt as if a flip switched. It became apparent in most situations that the anxiety just was not worth it. To what end was I getting myself worked up and attached to impossible outcomes? To what end was I placing insane expectations? If something works out, I guess that is awesome. If something does not work out, I guess that will be what ever it will be as well, and I can either deal with it or not. Who cares?
What seems to be the caring bit is only the presence of love, caring, empathy etc. Not outcome attachment.
I do continue to find myself angry when I read the news. But, the anger quickly dissolves into acceptance of what is. I cannot decipher if this is healthy or if I am pushing towards a middle class version of Grey Gardens insanity. I am not inclined to be bothered with figuring that out.
In the meantime, something is going on with MrexH but I have not followed up with the Parenting Coordinator to find out more information. FatherHerisme has been going in and out of the hospital with UTI’s. MotherHerisme’s status remains unchanged – although, I was somehow able to wrangle getting her to return to her house a few states away for a few days over Easter. She hadn’t been to her house since Christmas 2016. This is was quite an adventure and involved multiple massive meltdowns on her part. At one point I thought I might have to phone 911 to have her go to the hospital with a mental crisis. It all worked out. SisterHerisme came to help with transportation since we have a new puppy since I last posted. The interstate travel included myself, SonHerisme, SisterHerisme, MotherHerisme, new puppy, and two 10-year-old littermate lady Miniature Schnauzers. Lots of Starbucks and boundary reinforcements, but we did it! Three times in 6 weeks!
No exclamation needed. Why did I do that? two days prior to our last trip, FatherHerisme died. He found his way. My soul has yet to understand a world without him in it. Right at this moment, a friend’s sweet husband is in his final breaths in this world. Everything is tilting – this way and that way. I hope that you and your loved ones know the peaceful gentle comfort of love and eternal security of love.
FatherHerisme’s obituary (with editing support from an Inveterate Optimist, and a quote from one of his all-time favorite poems which made him giggle every time he read it):
Somewhere, USA - Our wonderful perfectly imperfect FatherHerisme peacefully passed away under hospice care after a difficult 18 month health struggle. He was loved by so many, and known by many monikers: Husband, Daddy, Grandad, Uncle, Brother, Cousin, Friend, Co-Worker, Flight Instructor, WOW Buddy, and Knower-of-many-things. His presence will be greatly missed.
FatherHerisme was born in SomewhereElse, USA, became a Fightin' Engineer at Rose Hulman, joined the Army, worked as a chemical engineer in research and development for Procter & Gamble in the paper division his entire working career, and enjoyed root beer, french fries, and hamburgers all around the world. He was passionate about many things and felt deeply about contributing to bettering society and the lives around him.
His mother (Z), his father (B), his sisters (M and S), and his in-laws (I and B) preceded him to the Resurrection Point (which sadly works differently with real death). He is survived by MotherHerisme (wife), SisterHerisme and Herisme (daughters), BrotherHerisme (son), NiecesHerisme (granddaughters), SonHerisme (grandson), and other treasured family members. In lieu of flowers, please consider donating to Operation Smile, Habitat for Humanity, and your local PBS station in his memory.
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
~R. W. Service
(a glimpse of peace on my tiny mountain foothill which does not have a floating poem on it irl)
(or listen here)
If you peeked around my spot of Earth you would see signs of Christmas decorations here and there. Please do not be a judgy mcjudgerson. I feel the need to open the season a bit more gently. If you are passing by, please visit the Little Free Library at the end of my driveway 🙂
No big gifts planned for this year. Moving a bit gently there as well. Exceptionish will be SonHerisme hopped up on getting a PS5 or new drum kit. The drum kit seems more reasonable to me. Still, it is all SO MUCH. We’ll be making the shed into a music studio over the next two years. Year one will be bringing the shed back to life (new floors/windows, insulation, run electricity, replace roof). Year two will be outfitting the insides as resources permit. He is in it for the long haul. Good luck us.
For the past few decades I have assumed the role of making the merry for all of the people by going big with stuffed stockings/pillowcases/bags and whatnot. Themed and coordinated for each family with splashes of individual nods. I have been cooking all of the things for all of the meals. Carefully choreographing the movements from freezers, to outside coolers, to refrigerators, to sometimes outdoor grill, to oven and stovetops, to serving dishes, to curated tables, to leftover containers, and the inevitable, “dang, I forgot that was in there ewww,” dump to the trash. Since COVID I keep saying that I want to pull back. People of the internets, this habit is HARD to break. The guilt over not making the merry for the humans (and puppies!) is heavy. I’m not budgetless obvs, but I have an (at times) unfortunately creative mind, and a sewing machine, and an oven, and a glue gun, and am intimately familiar with the art of repurposing the things. Which all points to that inevitable push for merry making… *resist the urge, sweet momma, RESIST* We can do the hard things of saying, “no thank you.” Right? Can we? I mean, I can, right? doubt it
Update on evaluating my cell service carrier AT&T: they are often sketch. They oppose net neutrality, which means they advocate for the removal of a free and open internet. They funneled hundreds of thousands of dollars to Drump attorney, Cohen, which appeared to be payment for in kind Drump regime favors to fix their antitrust issues. On the other hand their service range is exceptional for me and this year Ethisphere rates AT&T as one of the world’s most ethical companies for the third consecutive year (I call bullshit). From Ethisphere:
Methodology & Scoring
Grounded in Ethisphere’s proprietary Ethics Quotient®, the World’s Most Ethical Companies assessment process includes more than 200 questions on culture, environmental and social practices, ethics and compliance activities, governance, diversity, and initiatives to support a strong value chain. The process serves as an operating framework to capture and codify the leading practices of organizations across industries and around the globe.
Honorees
The full list of the 2022 World's Most Ethical Companies can be found at: https://worldsmostethicalcompanies.com/honorees.
(laughing internally bc that list has to be some kind of fuckery) Gird yourself, AT&T – letter writing forthcoming. If you are attached to billionaires, I suggest you are not ethical.
This November, I am attempting to tend to the mundane. Writing the letters which need writing. Ironing and sorting the things which need sorting. Reading the stories which need heard – including the hard ones, especially the harder ones. Deep yard cleanup (leaves intact, protecting the future bugs, birds, bees and general wildlifing). Processes begun and contracts signed for MotherHerisme’s apartment on the ground floor. SonHerisme’s room is undergoing transformation into high school teen aesthetic. I am boxing up what remains of my children’s book collection for storage – I think. I don’t know. It is mostly just fairy tales, pop ups and poetry at this point. The cycle in my brain is that of letting go of a life which doesn’t exist in order to make room for the one that does exist. I suppose if I box them all up and need them back, I can reverso that processo. It is hard to let of go of wishes and dreams, for sure. Although sometimes joy is hard to witness as well because there is always the worry of what comes after the joy. At least for the people who have brains swishy walking the spiraled tendrils like mine.
This past week we received the news that a party claiming to be political, but is in truth authoritarian with christo-fascist agendas marketed as populism, has been voted into being the majority in the House of Congress. Yes, I understand that many of us are so afraid that someone from the unworthy undesirables might receive appropriate health treatment or children might receive nourishment at school through tax money, that we would rather have women, immigrants, children, non-white skinned, and LGTBQ humans denied basic rights to be considered as fully human. Spooooooky basic humane care is so unpalatable that you’d rather see everyone (including yourselves) suffer under arcane inhumane rules which essentially eliminate our democracy. One group fomented deadly insurrection of democracy, the other one wants to provide universal health care. I truly *sigh* do not see this as political process in democracy. Politics are discourse over how much and where allocations land, not IF there should be any societal responsibilities beyond policing through a lens, filtered under the guise of divinity, of abject inhumane authority. I am angry/disappointed/grieved that enough of us feel voting against humanity is appropriate at all. I am sorry for all of us.
Upcoming generations will correct this course out of necessity. Brutality cannot enjoy its gleeful covert blanket of hubris as it has since the beginning of time. Facts move too quickly now. GenX through GenZ have ready access to (and ability to identify) accurate information as well as the advantage of being connected in broader communities. Millenials through GenZ have the population numbers to outweigh any outlier nonsense. It is only a matter of time for the collective leadership to be more centrist by design as well as more humane. *fingers crossed* For the least amount of increasing the legacy of damage requiring following generations to clean up.
Iran, all Persians, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Ukraine, Poland, Brittney Griner, Florida, Texas, Indigenous peoples, all of the peoples everywhere, are worthy of humane treatment, dignity in grief and suffering, as well as hope for freedom from suffering. We love the world as it presents itself in all forms, as it is, but maybe we are also tasked with working on nudging the world in a humane direction to be what it ought to be – reciprocally beneficial overall as it can, when it can, where it can be.
Tending to the mundane seems critical as grounding. Voting. Amplifying and participating in messages of truth and humane actions. Community and self care in whatever form that takes. Community care this week involves baking cookies for a neighbor who missed out on holiday treats because of multiple food allergies. I’ll make extras to drop off for the High School staff next week in case any of them cannot enjoy wheat/dairy/eggs etc.
As far as self care, I have concluded this exercise: a few months ago I wondered why I am shaving my underarms. Is it self care? Do I care? I am sure no one else cares because a. they never see my underarms, even in the pool because my swimsuit consists of swimshorts, sturdy bra, swimshirt and 2. I have reached an invisible age where I understand that no one is looking at anyone else unless they are a striking or known human. I am not striking, and people who know me absolutely do not care about any of my hair. Unless you are MotherHerisme or FatherHerisme who feel uniquely obliged to comment on appearances of each of their family members at all times especially when it is, “I’m only trying to help,” negative comment. As a full grown adult, this is a blip on my interactions these days, but devastating when I was younger. I do correct them when they comment on any of the grandchildren. “A bit less of the meal portions and a bit more exercise would help with the way those pants fit,” for example. I am sure that you know from your various family members how this trope-as-reality goes. Zero comments on children’s bodies PLEASE and thank you.
Anywho, I let the underarm hair grow for a while – a wispy blonde tuft. I will say that I think it helped with my *ahem* natural fragrance poking out from beneath deodorant. Once it became a texturey feel nuisance, I began to question if I should keep it and get used to it, or let it go. Letting it go in favor of not thinking about hair just being there has won. Ingrained shame as habit, I suppose.
Another mundane annoyance has been my battle with poison ivy this month. I am allergic because OF COURSE I am. Tiny rash to huge rash to spreading rash to blisters to hives to residual scaly itches all over the everywheres. Super reminder of being a human. I made the mistake of wearing a sweater I knew had been through poison ivy. Classic mushy brained me. Should I visit my GP? Possibly. Although at the moment, I’m sure she is overwhelmed by our societal determination to perpetuate serious viral infections. I do not want to add more to her workload when I know how to use fels naptha, add more antihistamines (oral and topical) along with topical steroids and patience. Meh – it is what it is.
Personal trials of the mundane=accomplished. Achievement unlocked. I can level up to whatever mundane thing is next. It’s probably something to do with laundry or meals or shaving away the subversive shame of the ladies. All hail the mundane because it sure as hell beats the gory days of terror and chaos!
ps more of the mundane: I iron cloth napkins every week as a meditation. It is my mundane tending of the things of the indoor garden.
pps Sending this out to the universe, since it is highly unlikely it applies to you: If you are someone who votes with and/or voices anti-humane rhetoric, please consider the black pit depths of hypocrisy you represent as you offer performative sympathies when the very things you stand for/with and amplify are directly correlated to the harm you claim to feel sad about. Look inward, I implore you. It will be shocking and painful, but so worth it for yourself and all of humanity. Thank you. As a former lovely coworker used to say, “Ain’t none of us getting out of this alive.” Please do try to find your flawed soul (just as all of ours are) and use your position and legacy to amplify making a positive difference in this world. Step outside with the intention of causing less harm. Thank you.
Also… and… in addition… thank you for reading/listening and being on this journey and holding space for all of this with me. I appreciate you.
They quaff libations to the moon,
From acorn goblets, amply fill'd
~ excerpt from "Ode to the Muse" by Mary Darby Robinson
(or listen here)
Have you heard someone describe going on a silent meditation retreat and they hated all of the not talking? It sounds divine to me. Soon enough. In the meantime, FatherHerisme is pleased to not have restrictions on his Long John Silvers feasts with cans of Coke or Root Beer and dessert of Red Hots/Tootsie Rolls/Pringles/M&M’s and all that. MotherHerisme has ordered makeup for herself after about a decade of not wearing anything. Prior to then she was an every day full face plus multiple lipstick reapplications. SonHerisme is adjusting to leaving Marching Band season plus anticipation of new activities and regular YMCA visits. I am. I am… I continue to be spinning about trying to find some bearings.
Spinach in a classic white porcelain pasta dish (no pasta), and tea from a rustic looking mug stamped with LOVE typewriter letters, plus finding acorn twins all over the place to add fullnesses where sadnesses lurk!
Anywho, letter to my outgoing Governor:
Dear Governor Blah Blah,
Thank you for serving our communities and state of Blahberg as our Governor for the past two terms. While the Republican party lost me years before you took office here, I have been proud to have you lead our state with integrity through some very trying times. You haven stood by your moral compass, ethics, and beliefs in your responsibilities to all of your constituents, even in painful moments. For this, I thank you.
The attention to restoring the Blahberg Bay, funding education (including provisions for school boards to work with communities on carefully monitored charter school options), and grants supporting the Violence Against Women Act, are just three of the issues you have addressed that I personally appreciate.
None of these show your leadership ability more than how you carefully and earnestly addressed our COVID-19 experience, and the January 6th insurrection at the Capitol. Your refusal to bow to the dangerous inflammatory nonsense, and maintain a level head in guiding your team and Blahbergers through these tumultuous situations has been admirable.
I believe that under your leadership, Blahberg has built itself stronger as representation to the country of what can be accomplished within a working democratic body operating through honest dialogue, compromise, and transparency. I do not claim that we, or you, are perfect – but neither is democracy. By its very nature, it is meant to be imperfect to allow for conflict in approach, discussions, and compromise. Democracy does not want any one ideal philosophy, it wants many humane voices for civil discourse and civil resolution. I have many opinions which differ from yours (women’s access to abortion, for example) yet I still admire your teambuilding leadership.
Along with my heartfelt, “thank you!” I also write to encourage your decision to run for president. Admittedly, my conscious will not allow me to vote for anyone associated with the Republican party without seeing some radical national accountability, which is a ridiculous expectation given the current path our nation is on in that regard. However, I do admire you and believe you to be one of the best representations of leading civil discourse, humane leadership, and personal integrity, without expectations of perfection. Should you choose to leave the Republican party, you would have my vote.
Thank you again for all of your hard work on leading Blahberg with what I believe to be an overall earnest humane civil approach with integrity. Best of luck to you on your next adventure!
Kind Regards, Ms. Herisme
(she/her/indoors masker)
Feel free to copy/modify/cringe at this missive. It is how I feel today. For those of you living in Blahberg, I acknowledge that we may not be on the same page and that is a-okay and appropriate. I have been writing regularly to our Governor and want to close it out with thanks for the things they worked on doing right. I mean, I am not ever going to carry the weight of their office – very few of us would or do. Someone has to do it, and they did alright. Much like “agree to disagree” on things which can find balance and compromise, I agree to disagree with them on things and still appreciate they took the helm and ran with it despite the allure many have fallen into with the glittery false trappings of authoritarians and fascists.
GAH
I don’t know.
I’m really glad that the current Governor isn’t a complete magafascist asshat.
I am even more glad that we have voted in a Democrat.
Stay strong Blahbergers and *fingers crossed* for democracy to work in general with or without that Gov’ner
No, I do not know what the acorn twinning euphemism means. I suspect it has something to do with sunshine on jewel colored crunchy fallen leaves, chilly breath revealing air, and a mug of something special to you, as I do the same. Acorn Twinning
Thank you Veterans in our country, around the world, throughout time past and future, for showing us the humanity of service. Some of you did this by choice, some by force, some as defenders of humanity, some as aggressors against humanity, some as a way of orienting and belonging to something with purpose. I honor your contributions to all of our lives.
Live in each season as it passes;
breathe the air,
drink the drink,
taste the fruit,
and resign yourself
to the influence of the Earth.
~Henry David Thoreau, Walden 1854
Today it is raining the chilly grey drip drops foreshadowing winter. The Earth is influencing me to cozy up, teacup! On tap today: Constant Comment (a black tea which ooozes rainy day goodnesses), an aniseed/fennel/cardamom herbal fusion, green tea chai, all wrapped up with a final cup or two of lavendar/oatflower/limeflower herbal blend for sweet dreams. Never sugar. Rare addition of plant based milk – not for bougie points, but to prevent searing serrated knife jabs from the inside since my stomach and dairy truly loathe one another with the sanctimonious deep hatred of a thousand years, plus one. stooopid feckin dairy hating guts
I’m fine
I have two tomes to read before I’m allowing myself to put Sarah Kendzior’s book on my nightstand. Here is a quote from her book, They Knew:
"Material acquisition is not the goal of the criminal elite, and debt is not a problem. A lifestyle of total impunity, powered by fraud and threat, is the goal. Raw power is not measured in money but by how little you need it. Money is beneath you when you live above the law."
A lifestyle of total impunity. This is what we collectively willingly sacrifice ourselves for – a tiny fraction of people who are never held accountable. And yet, we are all held accountable under the influence of Earth. Even those who build vanity phallic escapes from the planet remain under the influence of Earth. Not quite equitably, of course, but still accountable in the end. I find this grounding as we have no other assurances for accountability despite having every tool at our disposal.
Over the weekend I will be writing to my Governor again. That is how I tootsie roll. I can eat a little twisty waxy packaged tootsie roll, but don’t bc of my Scottish/Swedish gene forces against sweets. I’ve tried to battle them. I really have made the efforts. Taffy at the shore level tried. But am now divested and moved on to very dark bitter chocolates, which seem acceptable to the ancients mulling about in there. Cacao enjoyment to you, ancient genes of yore!
Nature, fiber, and plant-based! Winning.
I have researched a bit on my internet company(from my list). They’ve received an 8.5/10 from ethicalconsumers.org . Their main issues are excessive payment to top management, operating with oppressive regimes, ranking on modern slavery reports, and detrimental policies on toxic minerals/chemicals. On the other hand, they score well with carbon management and reporting!
We are very limited with local options, so letter writing and confronting their complicit destructive behaviors it is then. Alrighty.
It is my season of the privilege of presence and attention.
Onto the day of laundry, ironing, paying bills, paperwork galore, cleaning, writing, gathering SonHerisme from school, and preparing the foods. The people want a mushroomy meatloaf. Since I can say, “yes,” I will. Ohmyg-d, I love that for them (Alexis Rose style, natch). And all of those extra mushrooms in the green container will float over into a red pepper and creamy mushroom soup for me.
Moving through the seasons under the influence of this Earth life is what I can do.
Wear your rainsuit/boots and bring an umbrella if you’re meeting me on the deck later. Wear the yellow rainsuit so that I am able to see you coming up the hill please and thank you. Or better yet, a white plastic suit like this guy!
Confucius said, “A seed grows with no sound, but a tree falls with a huge noise. Destruction has noise but creation is quiet. This is the power of silence. Grow silently.”
Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder. Rumi
I am not on board with creation being quiet in the traditional ways of quiet. Unless the big bang was the destruction of the nothings into the somethings which then proceeded with the quiet movement of evolution. Even sex I suppose is the destruction of the concentration of blood vessels which then proceeds to release all of things occasionally quietly bonding and replicating into a new human. The birthing is the destruction of the internal growth/housing and the new human quietly (ahem WHAT) evolves into a growing human. The human then goes through many destructions and creations of cells, emotions, bones, and all of the things, until we wear ourselves out through some destructive thing which does not allow for us to recreate ourselves anymore as humans. We become food for the earth or exploration for a scientist.
Is this what quiet creation means? The creation is happening without the impacts that destruction brings? No loud tree felling, but a wispy green nugget of something sprouts up as if by magic? The atonement for having destroyed the tree is the patience required to experience mystical quiet as witness of seeds and soils gently (to our eyes) pushing forth a new generation of life? Some of us pay oddles of noodles to have those new generation plants placed just so into our earth spaces. We cultivate and bask in its growth. We cool. Or we not cool since that movement sometimes requires destruction in movement and burning up dead dinosaur sludge from one place to another. Even if we are seed gatherers…
Babbling as I do since my brainiac is mushing about in attempts at life-ing it up. Destruction leads to creation, and creation eventually meets destruction, by their very natures. But we cannot always predict accurate manifestations of these transformation processes.
Who in the sam hell knew that using populism to elect a melanated president to counter balance the destructive, gaslit, trickle down, fake news, racist programming, misogynisitic ingrained patterns of bullshittery would haunt us with the backfire of magafascism?
It's the, "man, oh golly, I'd really like to see us use our resources humanely for the betterment of our Earth, country, communities and ourselves,"
versus,
"LISTEN TO ME AS I SCREAM OBSCENITIES AT YOU
TO SHAME YOU INTO HEARING HOW I AM SAVING YOU,
S A V I N G Y O U,
BY THE DIVINE POWERS IMPARTED TO ME AND MOSTLY ONLY ME
AND THOSE I BULLY
INTO BELIEVING MY GLORIOUS INHUMANE FUCKERY DIVINED THUSLY UNTO ME,
AS I RAPE YOU, I AM SAVING YOU
AS I FORCE YOU TO CARRY AN UNVIABLE LUMP OF CELLS, I AM SAVING YOU
AS I FORCE YOU TO CARRY A POTENTIALLY VIABLE LUMP OF CELLS, I AM SAVING YOU
AS YOU BLEED OUT INTERNALLY, I AM SAVING YOU
AS YOUR BODY AND BRAIN ARE IRREVOCABLY CHANGED FOR LIFE, I AM SAVING YOU
AS I DENY YOU VITAL CANCER TREATMENT, I AM SAVING YOU
AS I DENY YOU ACCESS TO ALL HEALTHCARE, I AM SAVING YOU
AS I DETERMINE YOUR ACCESS TO INFORMATION BASED ON MY BELIEFS, I AM SAVING YOU
AS I WEIGH AND DEFINE YOUR UTTER UNWORTHINESS AS A HUMAN, I AM SAVING YOU
AS I SHOOT YOU OR YOUR FAMILY/NEIGHBORS FOR INVOKING MY RAGE, I AM SAVING YOU
AS I BEAT YOU FOR EXISTING AND WANTING A VOICE IN COMMUNITY, I AM SAVING YOU
AS I BEHEAD YOU, I AM SAVING YOU
YOU SHOULD BE TAKING A KNEE AND THANKING ME
NO, NO, NO, NOT A KNEE BECAUSE YOU ARE DISRESPECTING ME
YOU SHOULD BE BOWING YOUR HEAD AND THANKING ME
NO, NO, NO, NOT BOWING YOUR HEAD BECAUSE YOU ARE DISRESPECTING ME
YOU SHOULD LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND THANK ME
YOUR EYES LOOK DISRESPECTFUL
YOU'RE DEATH THANKS ME.
MY MAGNIFICENT SELF MAGNANIMOUSLY OFFERS A " FUCK YOU, YOU'RE WELCOME, I HAVE SAVED YOU. NEXT"
Sometimes I feel the angers.
For the most part my local community voted against being perversely saved by nefarious right-wing nutso zealots. But we’re still waiting for final results from our truly horrifying unstable zealot-led wackos infiltrating our Board of Education. I am so grateful to not have a young child in our schools. It takes all kinds of people to organize and run a community – even wacky people. We are overrun with decades of systematically brainwashed people who truly believe they are in a holy fight to save all of us from ourselves at whatever the cost – lives, truth, integrity, knowledge, and general basic humanity. Their only goal is to win power and control OVER others as they FORCIBLY oppress, silence and eliminate those who are not in alignment with them. Sanctimonious malicious bullshittery.
Toxic people will not be changed by the alchemy of your kindness. Yes, be kind, but move on swiftly and let life be their educator. Brendan Burchard
We cannot, rather, I cannot fix this by welcoming the magafascists and politely tolerating the disgusting inhumanity they promote. I will not even try. What will I do? I will keep talking and showing up in spaces as I can and where I can. I’ll be letting go the toxicity of extending kindness where it is harmful. No more waving and smiling at the racists down the street, for example. I will wholeheartedly wish them wellness with a sprinkle of enlightenment to at the very least, cease glorifying a regime dedicated to the enslavement of other humans (remove your confederacy flag, people – it is a symbol of blazing racism and disgusting shame).
ParentsHerisme continue with their 1980’s world view of believing those in power will behave moderately due to power balance structure and the rest of it is all rhetoric. I strongly disagree (Roe v Wade much?). They cannot see what I see – they truly cannot. Their time in history, privilege, and ingrained learned fear, do not allow their lenses to open any wider. FatherHerisme is so rattled by it all, he was in tears over facetime trying to relay how he did his best to vote in a way that I could be proud of – but he couldn’t quite figure out what that might be all of the time. Sweet daddy *sigh* this is the heartbreaking part of aging parents being far away.
My international friends are somewhat hopeful, but mostly horrified at what they are witnessing us doing to ourselves(when they have time to wax poetic about our issues since there is bullshittery everywhere- authoritarianism rise plus COVID denier MUCH?). The older ones worry about a far correction into what their parents lived through with stark socialism (which wasn’t socialism of course – it was authoritarianism, which is the ironic slippery slope magafascists would LOVE to implement).
Anywho
Divest from and disempower systems of oppression. paraphrased from Nikki Blak
I want to do more of this and am thinking about how, where, why as I do the things of everyday life. I no longer feel doom and gloom most of the time. I feel the need for acknowledging destruction as well as acknowledging quiet and creation – or at least the humane support of them. Women’s rights and basic human needs, globally, in my country, community, and home.
There was a turning point for me last year where I realized I no longer needed to be invested in people, things, places which do not resonate with my own wellbeing and health. And this divestment is not a referendum on me or the people, things, places as being unworthy. This is my divestment from feeling obligated to connect with or understand those things not in alignment with my own health. Simple example of meat – it hurts me when I consume it, yet I went back to consuming it for years after having been a vegetarian for a decade. I attempted different kinds of meat and medications etc. Forget it – I have let it go. I am not invested in trying to explore that relationship anymore. I am more aware of no longer feeling obligated to be invested. This may come natural to you all, but having been raised to maximize co-dependency, this has been a huge learning curve for me. Saying, “no thank you,” to myself for myself with no negative feelings attached has been a huge shift for me, and a much easier way for my soul to move through each day.
As a result of this shift, and time, and my sweet tiny giant turning into a man person, I feel the cleaning out and preparing SonHerisme for his adulting launch. I am working on cultivating a practice of being more mindful in my immediate environment.
My first step is to do the hard ask of where I am putting my resources. Beginning with my list of everyday tasks I do and everyday items I use. I will be asking myself how (not if bc they ALL are in some ways) they are parts of systems of oppression and how may I either facilitate limiting (destruction of habit/service) the oppression further or divesting (creating something new) from them.
A teensy start:
-internet service
-laptop
-phone
-grocery store(s)
-Amazon
-laundry
-career
-creativity
-food prep
I hope this creatonement alchemy works for something good and is helpful. My purpose at this point in my life it to cause the least amount of harm in my areas of this existence. I want to be present for and aware of how I am doing that just in case the knowing is helpful to SonHerisme or anyone else. Or, I suppose, the knowing will be helpful and satisfying to me as I transition at some point.
MotherHerisme turned 78 this week. SonHerisme’s band won their division at state competitions. I took a catnap outside on this final warmish sunny-side up day. It was so quiet that I could hear gleeful leaf scamperings of tiny creatures in full on wintering prep. Also, the persistent bee popped around for a pre-slumber check-in. More celebrations with pom poms. More nature. More mindful acknowledgement and divesting from the harmfuls.
Silence, you are the best thing I have ever heard. Boris Pasternak
HERISME 