Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Reporting from Darkness



If Julia Cameron is right...we should all be prodigiously creating.
Because darkness, America, is upon us.

If you're a long-ponderer like I am, perhaps you've also sloshed sluggishly along this week, knowing there's not one damn word worth hearing or reading that you could add to the conversation about racism, hate, violence, free speech, guns, civil war, or Robert E. Lee. Maybe, like me, you've tried to distract yourself by pushing momentarily away from the AP/Reuters/Bloomberg news feed to brush up on the Six Foods Trending for Fall, or to shop for IKEA pot scrubbers on Amazon, or to sit and stare at your yoga mat as if it might turn into a magic carpet and take you to a magical place where none of the aforementioned topics need to be discussed.

The news is just too disturbing, right? I feel fractured way beyond the core of my being. It's a weirdly visceral thing the way the Shadow of America, as seen last weekend in Charlottesville, VA, has raked its gnarliest fingers across my heart and soul and left me stewing in something that seems so vile I want to shower about five times a day.

I am trying to have normal hours...really I am. I simply can't move. (And I hope you can sense how much restraint I'm using to stay away from the Caps Lock key and the letters W and T and F...because that's where the writing energy is languishing.)

But about an hour ago, I found myself staring at the laptop skin (in the photo - cool artwork by Allie Eissler). And from that catatonic hour came the tiniest bit of hope. It's probably not hopey enough to have made it to my heart yet, but at least I found something stirring in the tips of my fingers. So here I sit. Throwing angsty words onto a public page in an attempt to recover my will to look up from the damage at least long enough to calculate my Creative place in the next hour. And maybe the one after that.

Because we must have all reasonable voices in the conversation right now.

Maybe you work for the New Yorker or Rolling Stone or NPR and your job is to keep us well informed. Or, maybe you're a teacher starting the first week of school with the absolute intention of creating 100% safe space for kids of all ethnic backgrounds. Maybe you hold elected office or rule from a judge's bench or work as a public defender. Or, maybe you're speaking out quietly with a meme on Facebook that declares I WILL NOT LET HATE WIN. Maybe you volunteer in under-served communities or coordinate social services in under-funded neighborhoods. Or, maybe you're making a pot of soup and a batch of warm cookies for your Black/Jewish/Otherized friends who feel this wave of anxiety 1000x more than you do. Maybe you're a pastor or a doctor or a march organizer. Maybe you're just a tired writer staring at walls, waiting to be moved...

Whatever it is you bring to the table, when we get creative, America, I believe the evil shitstorm of hate-fueled violence and gun-toting rallies and bat-swinging protests and ill-spoken political rhetoric will be informing our conversations rather than infesting our souls.

It would be too cliche to say, "The darkest hour comes before dawn."
But I'm still going to hope it's true.
And it sure is dark right now.


Peace.

No comments: