Clarity

I've decided to set an alarm on Sunday evenings. Well, maybe Saturday mornings. No, hmmm. Well, I've decided to set a weekly alarm so that I blog weekly. I came back to this blog six months ago and promised myself to wiggle a little. I did, then stopped. So let's try this again. 

I write because if I don't, I'll explode. The words go around in my head and I have conversations with myself (which I found out today, via FaceBook, means I'm a genius) and with others who are not here. It makes me feel saner to write the words on a page. To see them crisp and dark (and a font size larger since the last time I wrote, sigh) on the computer page. It gives me clarity.

Clarity is something I desperately need right now. I feel the need surrounding me, I see it swirling throughout the internet, the news, the streets and shops and neighborhoods. Clarity is stability, it gives us a vision of what the future might bring. Even if the clarity brings a vision of awful, hateful, bitter battles and difficult journeys, at least I know what plans to make, to brace myself for what's coming, I know what to pack for the trip.

This week I thought I had clarity, and on Tuesday night that was wiped away and swirls of uncertainty replaced it. My beautiful, ever hopeful, immigrant husband tries to see the best outcome, but all I feel is fear and sadness for him and for my family and neighbors and friends. Not immediate-danger kind of fear, because fortunately I live in California, a state that saw the hate and said NO very clearly. I fear for friends in pockets of communities where hate was bubbling under the surface and only needed permission to be let loose. I fear for larger communities in red states that feel permission to let the hate flow. I fear the flow of hate and the battle that will result to stem the tide. 

In order to keep clarity, I have to say over and over, LOVE TRUMPS HATE. I hope that an alarm has gone off for you and you stay very diligent. I hope that clarity comes for our leaders. I hope that those who think this win gives them permission to be hateful are given a clear message that LOVE AND RESPECT IS THE ANSWER, and it's NOT OKAY to hate.  

I hope for Clarity. I hope. I hope. I hope.

Love,

Janice

I'm Still Here

A friend who was set in my path last year challenged me a few weeks ago to wiggle. Just a little bit. To wiggle meant to write. If I want something enough, but fear, weariness, or time were the sticky mud that slowed me down, I should just set my mind to moving at a wiggle pace. Just a little every day and eventually I would get there. She is a champion of my writing, she takes risks and pushes herself and puts herself out there. She jumps out of that airplane daily, weekly, risking and flying at the same time. I believe she was put in my path for a number of reasons, and one was to hold my hand and lead me onto that plane, buckle my parachute, and cheer as I jump out into the clear blue sky.

Because writing is like that for me. It's a rush. It's adrenaline and anxiety and joy and tears and everything all at once. It's cathartic and cleansing and I feel stronger and clearer once I see my words on the page.

Today I went back. I opened this blog and I read entries from the past and thought, "Who is this woman? How did she get so insightful and eloquent?" I truly didn't recognize myself, my writing, in the mirror. And I loved them, the entries, the fears, the thinking and language and I felt them all over again, and she started to look familiar, came into focus. Me. That's me. I can do that. I can write. How could I have forgotten her, this writer? Did she get lost in the grief of slowly losing her two parents over the past three and a half years? 

Time's up. My wiggle is done for today. I'm promising myself at least a few days a week of writing time by setting my alarm 30 minutes earlier than I actually need to get ready for the day. So now I will go and dress for Pilates, have breakfast on this cloudy Saturday, correct some papers, run errands.

Thank you, my friend.