The morning brought rain, and more rain, that driving hard pouring kind, so the ritual with the furball was cut short to one brief in and out, and the weather site said this was what I could expect till evening, so no bike this morn, no choice but a taxi.
Woke before the alarm and turned back the covers and got up, I can never sleep in, rarely hit snooze. I wandered into the kitchen for the usual, re-heat the java left in the French Press from previous morning for that morning JOLT, then on to some Morning Joe and Maddow.
Lately, underneath everything I sense in many, even the personalities I see on these vids, the guests they feature, this layer of anxiety, this sense of something, a whiff every once in a while, not blatant, but it pops out more often.
I find it myself in the wild, on the street, at work, with customers, a brief whiff of hostility, from impatient strangers and friends alike. Even my co-workers and I made some silent collective agreement at some point, and I imagine this may be more prevalent today than ever at many workplaces, but silent agreements to not discuss whatever heinous thing the news may bring, reverting to an inane chitchat that I quite honestly suck at, but I’m not one for chitchat at work besides, they all know my mind runs deep and know my quietness.
The advantage to having to cab it to work usually actually is the half hour more time it gives me, though this morn I found that time unwelcome, well, for one because I would prefer to ride my bike as I love those quiet darkened village streets to clear my mind, turning right, then left, and right, and up that rise, turn left, and up that hill, and on through suburbia.
This morning all the news had begun to stream together, just more sound and visuals, talking heads, words, more words, and then I thought, ENOUGH.
The world is too much with us; late and soon,The World Is Too Much With Us,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
So I instead I decided to write. I just let whatever is inside come out through my fingertips in a stream of consciousness I can edit later, after work, and after I’ve lifted heavy boxes and walked those miles and miles back and forth on concrete floors, after the after-work ritual the golden fluffy one somehow manoeuvred, until I am back snug here in my space, and can hear the rain again through my window falling, away from them, it all.
What does hearten me, gives me faith, is that the helpers are out in force. Those helpers that Mr. Rogers community knows well, given that the community that surrounds the Synagogue in Pittsburgh was his neighbourhood. His advice resounds today more than ever, to look for the helpers when confronted with such a crisis when such acts of violence happen.
The Muslim community of Pittsburgh I saw has raised something like $195K so far, and they were right there, sleeves rolled up, saying what can we do?
That is what I think stands out, is the strength of that community I see in the neighbourhood that surrounds that Synagogue. I believe these acts of violence against the Jewish community will make it stronger, and those strong ties are the best defence against this sort of divisive rhetoric that spews from the mouths of the followers of that squatter in the White House.
That community and those that surround it turned towards the people that are around them, to spend a bit of their day giving blood, standing in protest against the visit of the POTUS & FLOTUS, and it gives me faith.
Anyway, Halloween and today 17 years ago Mom died of Cancer, and the rest of my day I will try to spend doing something that doesn’t involve politics or any of that hot mess taking place down yonder, maybe listen to some Jackie Wilson, the Supremes, find some Motown stream and dance the rest of the day away, who cares, let it rain.