Monday Morning Musings:
“Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.”
–Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-Four Variations on Voice
(I liked this quotation so much, I took it from Robin at Breezes at Dawn. Check out her blog, which is full of insight, warmth, and stunning photos. )
“In the quantum multiverse, every choice, every decision you’ve ever made and never made exists in an unimaginably vast ensemble of parallel universes.”
–Nick Payne, Constellations
the word spreads in the mouth, then ends with decision,
like a boot hitting the soft, wet ground,
like us on Saturday,
thousands of women,
strolling more than marching—so many bodies, you know—
love on display,
love emblazoned on signs, and in hearts,
no rigid parade lines
marking and separating us,
murmurations of emotion
dancing up into the sky,
singing like birds,
trying to heal the world,
(hoping it’s not too late)
realizing that some do not understand that love is love
and that hate is not the answer.
And so, we responded after
the day of doom,
a day of gloom,
a day we thought would never come,
a day in which we’re all a bit numb,
he gives a speech not of hope,
(the edge of the slippery slope?)
no appeals to the better angels of our natures,
no asking what you can do for your country,
no yes we can,
He speaks in dog whistles
of American carnage,
and many feel discarded
no longer a part of the land of the free,
as the few,
(a very few)
cheer in glee.
And so, only fearing fear itself, we march,
we march for our children, our future, our world
woman power, unfurled
spurred to action,
my daughter and my new-found friend,
(my daughter’s second grade teacher),
we leave New Jersey for Philadelphia,
the train is packed,
filled with solidarity,
filled with love,
cheers as marchers get on at each stop–
there are stories to be swapped–
an eighty-four-year-old woman
who began her career at age nineteen,
she taught in a one-room schoolhouse in southern Illinois.
We’ve come a long way, baby,
with miles to go.
We walk to the rally.
Laugh overhearing the group in front of us,
“You know how I like to moon my mom?” a young woman says to her friends.
Marchers, as far as we can see,
(Marchers all over the world!)
But we find my sister, sister-niece, and my sister’s friend
who have come from other parts of Pennsylvania
(The wonders of modern technology.)
We laugh at clever, funny, uplifting signs.
“It’s amazing. You’re all amazing!” a woman says.
And we’re walking and talking,
Talking and walking
A speaker chants,
“Peace, Hope, and Joy!”
And there is hope in that multitude.
Back in New Jersey,
We head to a winery—
It’s been a long day,
but well, wine.
(And we may need it.)
On Sunday, my husband and I see a play,
quantum mechanics, patterns, time, and bees,
(Is time tangled strings or floating seas?)
a couple may or may not meet,
may or may not greet
love and sorrow
or waltz to a beat.
And we all wonder about choices made in life, don’t we?
I wonder about history–
is there a timeline for a failed American Revolution?
Another for Hitler’s not being defeated?
A timeline where what we know now is deleted,
or was never completed?
Is there another world where I did not move from Dallas?
Perhaps one where I lived in a palace?
One in which I did not meet my husband?
A world where I did not have my darling daughters, my joy?
(No, too sad to contemplate.)
What is fated?
What answers lie in the stars?
Are we ruled by Jupiter or Mars?
Is there a timeline where I could ever have supported a misogynistic demagogue?
Perhaps in another timeline we have our first female president,
a world where we did not need to rant and vent.
Perhaps in another, parallel universe we have not elected a petulant, dangerous man-child,
Perhaps there, the people understand what should be celebrated.
where we could,
where we have not forgotten,
where songs and hope blossom,
Perhaps there, humans are human,
and love is love.
I highly recommend Constellations at the Wilma Theater in Philadelphia.
We did a special wine tasting at Sharrott Winery that included red wine hot cocoa. We plan to go back when it is warmer to sit outside and enjoy their wine.
We marched at the Women’s March on Philadelphia, January 21, 2017.
And I will continue to be vigilant and to resist.