Just a quick late note about our winter solstice gathering for writing and ritual.
Here’s the link to the Meetup event if you’d like to register and join us. :)
Winter Solstice / Yule — Full Circle
Sunday, December 21, 9:30am Pacific time
May you all have a sweet holiday season.
Riba
Yesterday’s Los Angeles Times has an article on the front page by Ana Ceballos (reporting from Washington) and Seema Mehta (reporting from Los Angeles) about how passing California’s Proposition 50 might not help change house control. I read the entire article, as usual, hoping against hope to find something about how wrong it is for us to be trying to rig our elections against Republicans through the 2030 election cycle.
Today I finally found something. (I should note I haven’t done any actual research, have only kept my eyes open whenever I read something about these gerrymandering efforts nationwide, hoping to read that someone else is disturbed about this, too). The last four paragraphs of the article give us the opinion of Erik Nisbet, the director of the Center for Communications & Public Policy at Northwestern University who believes the fact that this “redistricting trend is gaining traction is part of a broader problem.”
“It is a symptom,” Nisbet says, “of this 20-year trend in increasing polarization and political tribalism.” He argues that “both parties are sacrificing democratic norms and the ideas of procedural fairness as well as a representative democracy for political gain.”
This is stated more clearly and succinctly than my arguments in my earlier post for Governor Newsom and California Democrats voting in tomorrow’s election. But his message is the same as mine—this is just so wrong.
“I am worried,” Nisbet says, “about what the end result” of these efforts to rig our elections will be. People on both sides of the aisle should be worried, too. Frankly, it terrifies me.
I sit down on the Adirondack chair, on the little raised deck like a dais, my bottom sliding over the wood, surprising and smooth as if it had been polished. (Now I want a chair like this.) I am on a ridge at Descanso Gardens, looking north over La Cañada and the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains. I breathe, sigh, stretch my neck and shoulders, so tight these days. I try not to feel uncomfortable as people come into view and spot me sitting there. (I am so close to the intersecting paths.) I am glad when they all disappear again, and I remain. I rub my hands across the arms of the chair, soft against my palms. In the stillness of this almost-wilderness, I am the grateful, quiet queen of my domain.
“For God’s sake,” Biden says
“this man cannot remain in power.”
I don’t have all the details
(unwise, maybe, for a president)
but it makes me like him more.
The mockingbird greets me for the second morning in a row. He is on a different electric pole today, one pole north of yesterday’s. He’s my first mockingbird for 2022. I worried when I was in Palm Springs last week because I didn’t hear one. (I am good at worrying. I even wondered if something was wrong. Two years ago there were so many there, more than I’d ever known. Could there be a dearth of them this year?) I stand in the driveway, head back, looking up at him. “Good morning,” I say, happy to see him, happy he is happy. I don’t remember to look at anything else, to check the top of the ridge for hawks, to take in the sky. I only notice I am dressed too warmly for the sun, and when I walk back in the gate, I feel the cool air of the shade on my face. My wishes to each of you. May it be a good day. And if there is grief or anger or terror in it, may there be an unexpected moment of love or kindness or joy.
I sit, wordless, wondering what will come. Welcome, she says to me. Do not worry. All will be well. Words come, my self reassured by my self. All will be well. Don’t worry. Be happy. (Like the song says.) So simple. So true. So damn hard. I am weird and wonderful one moment, pulled into shark waters the next. But always, always find my way back again, tears drying on my face, something eased or healed inside me, blessings raining down, wetting my head.
I dream Julia Roberts and I
on a rooftop
She has a cut lip
and hair pulled back into a small messy knot
There is city around us
maybe near the sea
and we visit there more than once
gaze across the rooftops at dusk
She has trauma, too, something to do
with a dream she wanted to fund
in Syria or Ruanda
and crazed pushback on social media
And somehow we are close
comforted by each other
Our lives both hard just now
but meeting
and being met
easy together
like old friends
like decades
like no secrets
like no hiding at all.
No Holds Barred 