Almost 250 years old – yet, still so young…

I am writing this from a suburb of Chicago, on  4th of July 2025 – USA’s 249th birthday.

In the morning, I went to a grocery store to get flowers to gift a friend – it’s her birthday, too.

I have no plans specific to Independence Day. However, recently a friend bought me a headband with an Uncle Sam hat – a blue rim, the USA stars and stripes as the pattern, red-white-blue feathers. The hat stands about ten centimeters small. Goofy headbands are a thing with me – so, I put the headband on before heading out today.

At the store, some of cashiers were wearing some form of red, white and blue. However, I didn’t vibe it is national holiday, with people doing last minute shopping for picnics and BBQs and a certain lightness for the long weekend and an evening of jolly company and fireworks. At the cash register, there wasn’t the banter of “What are you up to this July 4th weekend?”

I left the store, after a saying a quiet  “Happy 4th of July…” to the cashier – I don’t know if she heard me – if she did, she didn’t say anything. I wore the headband because someone had made the effort to gift it to me – I had no expectations. However, while I was driving home, I realized I was a bit shocked to not get a single acknowledgement of the holiday – prompted by the headband.  

This all seems fitting to illustrate a story of tyranny and abuse of power. Some people don’t feel like celebrating the USA right now – aren’t feeling free and joyful. People are worried about the cost of living and worried about the state of our democracy. People are fearful, if not for themselves, for members of their communities who are particularly vulnerable in this current regime.

People are being taken from their backyards by ICE officials, Government officials belonging to the Democratic Party are getting arrested. Minnesota State Representative Melissa Hortman on 14 June, the morning of the NO KINGS protests, was politically assassinated. Anyone who listens the news, will be at least loosely familiar with the range of fear-inducing happenings.

I don’t know the numbers, the percentage of people who feel more like grieving and protesting today. Nor do I know the numbers, the percentage of people who are delighted by the passing into law of Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill and are earnestly celebrating today – who are in a story illustrated by victories and long-awaited changes.

I don’t know what the rift looks like in numbers. I don’t even know why I’m wondering about the numbers.

Or maybe I do. I’m thinking about the numbers in order to look beyond them. When I do, I see how underneath the rift, underneath the numbers detailing who is on what side and how many are seemingly indifferent, we all have something in common: whether we are aware of it or not, we are all being intensely shaped right now by fear and vulnerability. While some segments of people are becoming increasingly afraid, others are feeling increasingly less afraid, perhaps even safer/more secure.

Across what we think political spectrum, some are attuning to new found courage and conviction. Some are feeling paralyzed – dazed and confused. Some are feeling defiant. Some are feeling defeated.

Today is the birthday of the United States of America and in a way we are just as we were on the day this country was born. We are a collection of humans who in the name of freedom and independence are entangled in a messy collective dynamic of which the underpinnings are fear and vulnerability in a dance with power and domination.

This is the not-at-all new story I’m seeing illustrated in so many ways. At the heart of it is not a story of the battle between the political right and political left or even the battle between right and wrong. Rather, it’s the story of how we – the people – choose to relate to and respond to fear and vulnerability. What have we tended to do in the past? What have the true results been? What’s beneath the gloss? How can we be and do differently in the future to get different, better-in-the-depths outcomes?

I wore the headband partly to honor the friend who gifted it to me and in case it’s cuteness might make people smile – and maybe that seems shallow in the seriousness of what’s happening. Thing is, I want to see this country mature into a collection of humans living together in ways which manifest (display the qualities) of Love, autonomy, mutuality, reciprocity and more. I like to think we can do this – and the more we smile while doing the hard graft, the better.

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Forgiveness

If someone told me this or if I have had this revelation before, I do not recall.

Forgiveness is scary and profoundly vulnerable.

A couple of weeks I ago I realized forgiveness left me feeling like I was sticking my neck out and saying to someone who has harmed me: here’s my jugular.

I decided, I need some sort of system in place to be both open-hearted and self-protective. I need discernment.

Sometimes, I am having to forgive without being able to let the person know what they’ve done to me. Or maybe it is the case they simply cannot understand my perspective, my experience. In such times, forgiveness can feel like foolishness – as though I’m letting someone get away with something when I ought to be punishing them, holding them accountable somehow.

All that said, forgiveness can be a kin to hugging – a true hug is mutual and when I give one, I get one back. If I forgive you for what you’ve done to me – even if it is the kind of injustice/harm which was not intended, not conscious and perhaps another might not even share the perception of there even being any harm done – I am invited to do the same for myself. I am invited to forgive myself for whatever ways I have caused harm in the world.

I suspect the two feed off each other – the more I become willing to forgive others, the more I become open to forgiving myself and vis-versa. I am not certain of this – it is a new idea for me.

I am certain I have areas in my life where I struggle to forgive myself. This evening, I’m wondering why. Why is self-forgiveness so hard? In what ways is self-forgiveness scary?

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What do I want to write today?

With an art-making friend today

we talked about

discarded

patterned

cloth

scraps

from last year

hanging

in her

work-in-progress

exhibit.

When…

How…

do scraps become substance?

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What do I want to write?

Yesterday, I came back to this site prompted by an artist friend, Shebana Coelho. She suggested I ask myself “What do I want to write?” – do this five days and post the answers. This is post number two. And if you are a subscriber, know you will likely get an email notifying you of my posts. I hope the unsolicited daily emails don’t feel intrusive or bothersome. I guess, I wanted to to write to tell you this – though I didn’t know so, when I came to the page.

I did have the intention to write that being human is a messy business.

HA!

I just jumped from here to my original ABOUT page and see that back in 2011 when I started this blog, I was already putting my attention to the mess, the ugly, the beast of us and our shared humanity. I also put my attention to the beauty of us being humans – of us humans being. I still do. I see and I have repeatedly experienced the beauty and the beast of how we relate to ourselves, each other, the planet and the collective creative process of life and living together.

Deep inhale.

Deep exhale.

I type this sentence: “In 2016, when I broke from these pages, I could not have imagined how my life would be now.”

I rapidly cast my attention across various scenes from the past decade. Tears start falling. A tiny smile emerges. Death. Betrayal, Despair. Beauty and joy in forms I did not know existed. Kindness. Compassion. Repair.

I delete that sentence I typed.

I close my eyes and place my palms together and put them in front of my heart.

Deep Inhale.

Deep Exhale.

I re-type the deleted sentence.

I type more sentences to tell you a bit of what happened after I typed the sentence initially.

Maybe the question “What do I want to write?” is morphing into “How do I want to write?”

Maybe the answer to both questions is “I want to write about being human. I want to say out loud that for me language and words feel like raw material for the instrument I was destined to play, to be in this lifetime. I want to experiment with form and content, with complete and incomplete sentences, with exhibiting the physicality of being alive, with…

The list is open-ended, mutable and includes possibilities which I cannot now imagine.

Ahh, yes. Outer edges of eyes crinkle to start a smile, Shoulders drop a little and chest softens. I want to write how I want to live: freely, openly, playfully – all the while surrendering to infinite creative possibility.

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Returning to the pages….

Whoa!!! I haven’t been writing into this site since 2016. A couple of hours ago, I was having a sad face thinking I have no easy place to blog…something I’ve thought intermittently in the last couple of years. I mention this to a friend while we are talking on the phone. She goes to the site and points out I can post here.

What?! No! Yes!

Somehow, I did not see and connect with the easy option of coming back to this space.

Laughter.

All this time, right here…an easy way to write and post.

Here I am.

A small step into a dance which has been tugging at my bones.

I am smiling.

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A BREAK…

I’m on a break from blogging at this site – I ought to have posted this at the beginning of September 2016.

I’ll either return to the this space or re-direct readers to another blog site. Not yet sure of the timetable.

Thank you for stopping by here. I look forward to writing for you again, in the near future.

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Stepping into the Question: How do we become our most powerful selves?

Toward the Next Jewish Rebellion. – An article posing this question.

Extract from this article: As April Rosenblum writes in her groundbreaking pamphlet: “Attacks come in waves; but each time things calm down and Jews are able to blend in or succeed in society again, it gives the appearance that antisemitism is ‘over.’ In some of the most famous examples of anti-Jewish expulsion and mass murder (i.e., medieval Spain or modern Germany), just prior to the attacks, Jews appeared to be one of society’s most successful, comfortable, well-integrated minorities.

……

Two days ago, a friend brought to my attention the heated exchanges taking place around the Black Live Matter Platform – specifically a policy position on Palestine-Israel. I don’t feel it is for me to try and capture the discussion here or to tell this friend’s story. As a result of hearing their story, I will say, I went online and started reading the exchanges between Black BLM folks and Jewish BLM folks – some of whom were saying they had to step back from BLM because of the reference to Palestine-Israel (again, not for me to try and articulate their perspectives) in the platform, some of whom were critical of those who are stepping back.

In one of those articles, the author referred to the success of Jewish people in the USA (I believe it was specific to the USA) – their wealth and power. When I read that, I sat up in my seat and literally talked to my computer screen: “But, such economic integration was there at the time of the Holocaust – in fact, it fact didn’t it play a role in the narratives spun by Hitler which coaxed (if that is the word) people into playing their role in acts of genocide?”

There have been a few times since I’ve arrived in Santa Fe, when I have been with people who have made offhand remarks about Jewish people and – I vaguely recall – money or business. I remember at least once saying something like “I don’t understand how their being Jewish has anything to do with what you are talking about” (I don’t remember the specifics). I remember thinking – “Whoa. Is this anti-semitism?” I repeat: this has happened a few times. Like it is socially acceptable to make wise-cracks about Jewish people…cracks that are meant light heartedly and are rooted in stereotypes which might seem harmless in the whole scheme of things – but to me such comments are on a spectrum which has violence at one end of it.

The purpose of this post isn’t to present a position of any kind on the deliberations-exchanges going on around the BLM policy platform. As an activist, and a recovering social policy professional, I think the Movement ought to have stayed away from articulating specific policy demands – just as I thought Occupy London should have stayed away from it…but that’s fodder for another post and – frankly – my take on a tactical choice made by BLM doesn’t matter.

My point is: I invite you to read the article at the top of this page – which (and I’m making an uneducated assumption here), if you are not Jewish, you might normally not stumble across, let alone read. I invite you to read it to take in a perspective on what we – whoever we are – collectively are grappling with, summed up I think with this extract from the article:

“And this is where the lesson transcends the question of Jewishness and anti-Semitism and goes hand in hand with the most essential questions the movement must ask itself today: What do we — each and every one of us — have to do to become our most powerful selves? We had better have a good answer, because becoming our most powerful selves is the only chance we have at winning the world we all deserve.”

Though I don’t think we ‘win’ anything – we collectively create the world. We are, as we always have been, in a dance of collective creativity. Of course, yes, at times the dance feels like a never ending series of battles and an all out war…

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#Blacklivesmatter – a collective affirmation?

The USA is pretty well known for its people having passion for the self-help and self-improvement industry. In a way, this isn’t surprising – we are country plagued by depression and anxiety. People are grasping for ways to feel better about being alive, to feel better in their lives, to feel better about who they are.

I’m not surprised – we are a country riddled with fear and loathing. People fearing and loathing other people. People fearing and loathing their lives and their selves. People grasping the tools of self-improvement/development/help because they are believing: I am not worthy. My life is worthless. I’m ugly. I’m scary. I’m undeserving of love.

In this realm, a widely recommended tool is the use of affirmations. Affirmations can take the form of positive self-talk: I am beautiful or I am worthy, for example. Affirmations are statements to affirm. To affirm means to assert as a fact, to state strongly and publicly.

Some people might think it odd or feel uncomfortable with the idea of affirmations. I don’t think, however, when people work with such affirmations, other people find offense.

Nor, at least in my experience, are people compelled to challenge other people’s affirmations. Someone you care about says to you “You know what – My life matters.” This someone has experienced a lifetime of abuse in different forms. Would you say “Yes, of course, all life matters”? I don’t think most people would, though admittedly some might. I imagine you might be inclined to instead shout it from the roof tops with that person. “Yes! Your life matters!!” You might even be thinking – this is a really important step to this person ending cycles of abuse.

Presumably – if you were standing in full awareness of what this person has been experiencing – you wouldn’t say “What are you saying that for?”  or “Stop saying that!”

If in reading this, you are distracted by my making generalizations, I can put it another way. I’ve been riddled by fear and loathing in my life. I’ve turned to affirmations to help me step into a loving rather than hateful and fearful relationship with my self,  with life and with others. If you heard me working with my affirmations, would you get angry with me? Would you tell me to stop?

I’ve started seeing #Blacklivesmatter as – at one level – a collective affirmation. I understand it as a form of collective positive self-talk. A collective challenge to the fear and loathing which is inside violence and abuse directed at Black people in the USA. Violence woven into our culture through the Trans Atlantic Slave Trade. Violence rooted in a set of beliefs: Black people are not worthy of respect, love, kindness, dignity. Black people’s lives are worth less than White lives. Black people are Ugly. Black people are scary.

We’ve had (and still have) Black is Beautiful as a collective affirmation. Now we have #Blacklivesmatter. And it isn’t simply positive self talk done publicly. #Blacklivesmatter is a fact and a belief being stated strongly. And it is a fact-belief being stated to draw attention to the countervailing fact-beliefs (per previous paragraph) which perpetuate violence and abuse against Black people because they are Black.

I am wondering why is the use of affirmations in one context lauded, but in another is causing a big kerfuffle? Perhaps it is because when it comes to #Blacklivesmatter, we are all implicated. We are all being asked to look in the mirror and review our own beliefs and actions – conscious and unconscious. We are being invited to ask ourselves: In what ways are we/am I complicit in perpetuating a set of dehumanizing, oppressive and diminishing beliefs – which at their best give rise to what we now call micro-aggressions and at their worst kill?

A collective affirmation is being shouted from the rooftops and through the airwaves: #Blacklivesmatter. I hear it. I inhale deeply. I exhale deeply. I exclaim: “Yes, they do.”

[As part of my commitment to supporting this collective affirmation, I’ve taken the pledge to stand with The Movement for Black Lives – a link brought to me by the US Department of Arts and Culture.]

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The Vagina Monologues of Climate Change

I haven’t posted since January. I spent February and March in the north Chicago suburbs helping my mom through shoulder replacement surgery. While I was there, my dad – very unexpectedly – ended up in hospital. I put blog posting on hold at that time, and I look forward to returning to it in the coming week. In the meantime, I’ve just published an article in Open Democracy about a wonderful and inspiring artivist project- COAL: the vagina monologues of climate change. 

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I am your crazy

Last Saturday night, I went to a performance of monologues at Teatro Paraguas in Santa Fe, New Mexico. In “Bodies of art: women of ink tell their stories,” five women shared stories about their relationship to tattoos. I’m here now writing about Charlotte Jusinski’s story about a the tattoo on her left shoulder of a semicolon followed by the word rest – ;rest.

After the performance in this intimate black box theater, I went onto the stage and gave Charlotte a hug. “We don’t know each other, but I’ve had a lifetime dance with anxiety and I value that you spoke about your experience with it. Thank you.”

A half an hour later, I was on my way out of the theater and stopped to listen to Charlotte talking with a few people. She explained that she is nervous about the performances appearing on YouTube. “My colleagues from the job, they didn’t know why I was off work for so long – just that I was ill. They didn’t know I was crazy.”

Charlotte had an extended period off work because some days getting out of bed was a huge feat, because she had episodes where she had been driving and her arms went numb, because she had reached a point where she no longer had capacity for work.  The doctors ran test after test and all came up clear. The final diagnosis, as it were, was stress and anxiety.

A nervous system gone crazy.

Her tattoo represents her response to this craziness. The semi-colon is an instruction in life as it is in a sentence: pause. ‘Rest’ is the command they use at the dog-training center where she worked – particularly for a breed of dogs (I think it is german shepherds) who get very hyped up when being confined. The hand does a gentle up-down gesture, while the person commands ‘Rest. Rest. Rest.’ until the creature settles.

Charlotte explained that she would like to say she’s “all better now” – only she isn’t. She continues to grapple with the over-charged nervous system or what we tend to call ‘anxiety’ and daily life can be challenging. She is taking, by the sounds of it, one step at a time and finding her way. As and when needed, she commands herself: “Rest. Rest. Rest.”

;Rest.

When I overheard Charlotte express her concern about putting the monologues on YouTube, I inserted myself into the conversation.

“This thing we are calling craziness, many people struggle with and there is a stigma around it. Going public, speaking out, sharing our stories is brave, courageous and needed. There’s that point. And, well, what is crazy? Who is crazy? So many people leading lives that numb them, cut themselves off from the world around them, exhaust them.”

And then Charlotte inserted something to the effect of, “Yeh. Who are the crazy ones? They’re crazy, too. We’re all crazy.”

Yes, I do believe a lot of people in the United States are living with nervous systems gone out of control, bodies exhausted, spirits diminished.

Well done, Charlotte. For getting up and speaking our truth, for speaking our crazy.

 

 

 

 

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