Trouble With the Trouble ~ Monday Mimisms

     I don't know where the "cracked flag" idea came from (and claim no allegiance to whatever that may be) but the image does seem apropros in these times. I supposed we've lived through similar political turmoil before (ie: Watergate comes to mind) but none of it, to date, seemed as volatile or dire. Our country is more than just divided red and blue factions. I think we might be on the verge of breaking - hence, cracks are definitely showing.
My trouble with the whole trouble is that one side wants to dictate MY words MY beliefs MY choices MY philosophy MY religion. For example: If you are a Christian and want prayer in public schools, then be ready for Muslim, Buddhist, and Satanic prayers. You asked for it. I don't want to hear any complaints. I am a Christian. I can believe in prayer and the separation of church and state at the same time.  **stepping off soapbox...for now**
Here's the bottom line: Whatever beliefs you hold concerning abortion, women's reproductive rights, gun laws, funding wars, the price of oil, the banning of books, Black Lives Matter or even the federal legalization of marijuana - GET OUT AND VOTE your conscience. That's how we do it in America. Write your representatives. Peacefully protest. Run for office. Speak UP.But please....put down your guns in the streets. You're making it really hard for people who believe in the 2nd Amendment (and I do) to defend responsible gun ownership when you're being flagrantly irresponsible! **stepping off soapbox...again**
Good trouble. Said John Lewis. Let's get into some good trouble.

John Lewis 4th from left 1963 March on Washington

Good trouble...

Marching on. 
 

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Thunder In the Snow ~ Welcome 2022

Back in the blogging day, I'd fall into an antique house of menagerie, put an upside down hat over my face and call it a day - silliness and revelation all in one adventure. Now it's masks and Omicron and vaccine status checks and Booster debates before even thinking about roaming about unsupervised - which even on a good day is  perilous for me. But oh.so.much.fun.

I used to take my camera out-and-about writing "news pieces" in laundromats, interviewing unsuspecting suspects witnesses and covering the storm of the century in red hats and boots. I don't know how CBS has managed without me since the pandemic began.
Since it's supposed to get cold next week and I heard thunder today while I was out on my walk (in 70 degree weather!) I'm going to assume that snow will follow exactly ten days after the sound of thunder in winter. That's the old wives tale, anyway....usually on point. Better find my boots and wash my red hat, just in case. 
I think I may have a fever.It's the blogging bug. I've been bitten. And smitten. Again!I've suddenly acquired a taste for wordiness and wailing inside a blogger box of blankness. I've missed the mojo moving through the intrawebs. And the sexy sound of alliteration. Have you noticed? 
Lockdown was otherworldly and weird, like I'd been thrown back in time for a full two years of do-overs - make that three-overs. Four? The planet jolted to a screeching halt.  The Universe said "Start here, Mimi. Start all over. Again. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Start here." And so I did. The do-overs I did were doozies. It was a doozy of a dance. On so.many.levels.you.have.no.idea. And then I got to use the word doozy in a blog post just as my dizzy spell ended at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve.

However, I'm heartened by the feeling I had about three minutes past the vertigo on January 1, 2022. Just as I heard and saw folks kissing and laughing and trying not to fall down happy-struck on the dance floor, as I waved bye-bye to 2021 with nothing but a passing ultra-confusing glance, I felt something more profound...a gigantic earth-shattering sigh of relief
Like thunder before snow
 The pandemic years created a population of people who became a menagerie. Weren't we just that? The dictionary explains the word Menagerie as: A collection of wild animals kept in captivity for exhibition; a strange or diverse collection of people or things. I don't know about you, but some of my longest days were wild and strange!
Dr. Sanjay Gupta (my secret crush) is declaring new variants are clinging to the old variants which are stuck-like-glue to the original strains who have the NERVE to bypass any and all antibodies despite the dreaded vaccinations we've endured ad nauseam to be the next challenge we face in this crazy battle. Aren't you glad I'm NOT a medical doctor after that layman's explanation??? But 'til March, maybe???  Say it ain't so! Since I am in cyber-love with the good doctor (those eyes...) I'll take his word for it that there may be trouble ahead, but more flu-like than the end-of-the-world news we're used to hearing.
 For two years we've lived in an invisible cage fighting an unseen enemy all around us, in us, over us, under us, through us.  Aren't you weary of doomsday? And yet, if you are reading this you can say that you lived through the apocalypse. Thus far. I'll take that as a good sign for 2022.  

"Dampteurin in "Kreutzbergs Menagerie" public domain
aka Bloggingham Palace

After all, the issue lies with the virus's ability to change and morph into some menacing unpredictable behavior at the drop of a sneeze. 
That sounds a lot like me.
It's who I am.It's what I do.
I can adapt. And so can you. If it brings the beautiful snow, I'm ready for the thunder. 
ACHOO!
Images: Mimi Lenox, Pixabay, Public Domain
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How to Grow a Nation ~ Election 2020

I wrote this in 2016 on the eve of the Presidential election. My thoughts that day are identical to the thoughts I'm having in 2020 about this election.  My, how some things never change. So, I'll say it again...

 How to Grow a Nation

Are you watching the Democratic National Convention? I'm obsessed with the whole political scene, even more than in 2008 when I wrote a post on the magnitude of electing the first African American President. It was snowing the day of the inauguration. I remember it well. I put on a white hat and gloves with a teal scarf around my neck and went for a walk, excited about the dawning of a new day for our country. 

Eight years later, things have turned downright bizarre. When the current President's own brother pledges to vote for the opposite party in the upcoming election and the Republican past presidents won't endorse the Republican nominee, you can sense how divided we have become. At this moment I am perfectly at peace with the fact that the "party" doesn't matter to me.  I am having my own party and asking myself these questions: Who is moral? Who is ready to lead? Who is experienced? Who would I trust with the the nuclear button? Who is simply a good person, an honest person? 

Who is the well-seasoned soul in the room? 

Even with all the rumblings of fear and displays of violence and uncertainty in the world, I know we'll be OK if we keep moving forward.  Positive progressive movement doesn't only apply to politics - it's vital for groundbreaking research, innovative manufacturing, idealist entrepreneurship, excellence in education, social and equality movements, foreign policy goals, and the conservation of our beautiful planet Earth.  

But how do we get there? Where is the standard?  How do we begin? 
You don't have to look very far for the answer. Change and evolution happens every single day in all our lives, mostly in the dynamic and hard work of personal human relationships.  It looks like grace when you don't deserve it and sounds like kindness when you didn't earn it. 

It walks like love just because love is love. 

It moves into something bigger. Something worthy of every stakeholder in the room.
 And it digs down deep into the walls of dirty dirt to bring up a new handful of roots you planted long long ago when nobody knew where love was headed. 

 Human interactions are the model for great nation building.

Because moving forward is just as organic to the sustainability of great relationships as it is to the forming of the world's finest models of peace and prosperity.  You can't have an unbreakable partnership without the desire to grow a deeper commitment to the one you love, a willingness to understand and forgive again, and a pot full of dirt. 
 Then you put in seedlings for birthing and expect them to grow.

You can't have a strong nation without fundamentally good and moral people willing to do the same.  

My life isn't perfect. 

Our world isn't either.

But I'll keep planting.

And digging.

And getting my hands dirty.

And tending my own garden.

Because when I find myself planting seeds in window-boxes in the silence of the hot southern sun or during a snowy inaugural walk, I feel a growing in my own soul. And a voice with the deepest strongest wisdom of all saying...

"Just plant, Mimi. Plant."

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July 4, 2020 ~ Which Flag Will You Wave?

What's important isn't important anymore. This is how I feel in the land of Covid-19.  On this July 4, 2020 we are not the land of the free - not today. Let me just speak for myself. I'm tired of the phrase "We're all in this together" by now. Because we're not. The all part isn't working anymore. Nice try, but it never did. When millions of individual families on planet earth are facing this kind of economic and personal uncertainty, we are fragmented by default and circumstance. This virus is 911 on steroids.  There are two kinds of fear I am seeing so clearly - fear of the virus and fear of each other.
 If you are trying to feed your family and keep them protected in the midst of this hell, then you are on an island of fear all by yourself. Where IS that together part? We can look around and see our neighbors suffering, try to help the best we can, but right now we all have our own oar to row. 
 If you are offended because you're afraid someone is going to take away your liberties by trying to keep you safe, then you are the one living in fear, not the other way around.  You won't make coronavirus go away by pretending you don't see it. The virus won't magically pass you by because you refuse to respect its peculiar DNA.   And if you piggyback your political agenda and your hatefulness to this already sobering event, you're even more of the problem. It's what bullies do.  It's a thirst for power covered in fear.  Fear of anything is still fear.  Feel strong now?
It's important in this time to mitigate fear as well. I have a healthy respect for what the scientists and doctors are saying. I have a healthy respect for this virus. But you have to do that with common sense action, not reaction to every little trigger word your opinion wants to jump on. Me?  I want to jump on this virus and I'll support any scientific protocol that gives me the best chance of doing that. Do I have opinions about all the other noise I hear right now? Of course I do.  But now is not the time. Not the time. Not the time. I'm not feeling free or happy today. I feel like we're obliviously waving at a cunning enemy as it floats on by with a wink and a nod while we're waving this flag and that flag and his flag and her flag. Where is our flag?   And for those of you who feel that 50,000 new cases a day in the United States is not enough for you to believe in the reality of this monster, then I ask you to say that to the 525 million families of those who have died alone without comfort or hope. Say that to the coffins stacked up in morgues and left on Rikers Island until further review. Because doctors and nurses don't have time to sort out your opinions before they try to save your life. Your beliefs don't matter when they're gently wrapping your body in a white flag of final surrender. Ask them how real it is.    I  I am an American and I love my country. This is my home. But on this day I see more division than I've ever seen. Why? Because we're not taking care of each other. The only thing at this moment we should be unified in is stopping this virus. But we can't. We're too busy waving flags of opinion to see the devil at our door.  The only flag I am waving today is the white flag of surrender - laying down my fightin' words in this moment of crisis, saving my opinions for a better day and taking up the common sense God gave me. It's been in short supply in the world lately.  We need a huge double dose right now. When this is contained and over, I'm going to throw a big 'ole party with the people I love, those I'm missing right now who are breaking my heart, those I haven't touched or hugged or kissed in months. When the masks come off, I'll gather them anew with mountains of food and music in a yard full of laughing kids with lemonade and baseball. There will be new things to celebrate and we will fly the stars and stripes. But today is not that day. First, I have to focus on surviving.  I can't speak for you, but I'm waving a flag for humanity too.  That we will SEE what's important so that we can finally cross this bridge whole and in one piece - truly free. It starts with me. Wearing my mask. Washing my hands. Staying home. Listening to doctors and scientists. Doing my own research. Listening to my healthcare team. Being careful. Doing my best.  Loving my neighbor as myself. 

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Monday Mimisms: Working On a Protest in My Mind

As the world marches for change and attempts to obliterate a lethal global virus at the same time, I, too, am a work in progress. Working on my peace of mind. Pulling up some weeds.  Working on a mind at war with worry.  Working on controlling the swirl of dancing chants between my ears. Did I say too much? Do I need to temper truth with political correctness?  I already know the answer to that is a resounding NO.    *Just be kind, Mimi, just be truthful.* 
Working on subduing my thoughts and surrendering to my Higher Self.  Working on a protest in my mind. Wait a minute...
R.E.V.E.L.A.T.I.O.N.
The word working is NOT the way to do it....
ultimately realizing that each time I try try try try like The Little Engine That Could, I circle right back into questioning and the whole cycle starts all over again.

The noise. The chatter. The confusion. It all came out to play today. There's an entire trumpet section of dissenting voices carrying NO PEACE signs in the halls of Bloggingham.  The dandelions are overtaking the mums.


So, I'll stop. I'll change it. I'll simply change my mind.  I won't TRY to do it, I'll just do it.  Isn't it up to me to change the atmosphere in here?   Breathe.  Sit.  Take my mask off.  Inhale.  Exhale.  Listen.  Pray. 

The only Voice I should be listening to is my own.
If it's aligned with the Voice of Love, all I have to do is agree with It.

Surrender.  Receive.  Strengthen.  Renew.  Surrender.
That's better. No more weeds. No more unrest.

Digging deep in struggle is how you cultivate and grow a peaceful heart. Walking on.

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Monday Mimisms ~ Coronavirus For Baby Boomers

Don't blink or you'll miss it.
We're all just trying not to die. Life in the land of corona has turned fools into deep thinkers and the cerebral into fools. Do you feel the shift? Have you heard your doors whispering? Can you hear insanity calling?  Don't tell... but I think it might be the placebo effect weighing heavily on our collective paranoia - nothing to be concerned about really. It's just that for baby boomers we reluctantly understand that this long strange trip just got a lot stranger. We all read Orwell's 1984 in high school.
I see long lines of upper middle class SUVs waiting for loaves of bread and sacks of potatoes to be tossed into lifted hatchback trunks in food pantry drive-throughs. Masked people wearing worry like a sleeve. Unmasked people worrying about the people in the masks. We see you much more clearly than you think; there's something about hiding one's face that brings out bravado and brilliance -ask any bank robber, heart surgeon, or keyboard bully. I see confused children sitting alone with laptops in living rooms with no teacher - learning lessons they are too young to understand.  And then there's us. But don't worry about the boomers...we survived polyester pantsuits and Jim Baker. We'll be all right.
I've been alone a long time by choice. 
 I love my independence and enjoy my own company - but I've never felt this lonely.  I sensed it so keenly over Easter weekend. And it has given rise to that funky little byproduct of jail time  - perspective.
I've put off writing about how this pandemic has affected me. It seems so selfish. After all, I'm not hungry or unemployed or suffering physically from this unforgiving plague. I'm so sad for those who are. So sad I can hardly stand it.  What is WRONG with me?? I asked. I'm usually the voice of reason and peace. Why can't I handle a little bit of gigantic amount of stress??   Oh.  Maybe because it's not normal to keep an ongoing global headcount of people dying by the hour on the big screen TV we call life?  It's our new normal.   A normal we all hate.
I realized that if I don't get something scribbled on blog paper soon, I'm going to explode and
 maybe take a few people with me. It's been building in a way that made me worry more about my pride and less about snapping at people I care about. That can't be healthy: so here I am writing at midnight. It's my way of getting a grip on something nobody has  control over. Unrealistic much, Mimi? Maybe. But it's my way.
  I began self-isolating the first week of March, opening pick-up grocery accounts and exploring pharmacy delivery options. I've been determined to stay put for my own safety and in consideration for others.  I haven't been sick with any COVID-19 symptoms that I'm aware of, but since I'm in the high-risk category even the slightest cough or warm-cheek feeling sends my head spinning with fear.    I'm having trouble sleeping and my dreams are prophetically urgent. Is this what happens to soldiers in foxholes? Now, I get it. We've become instant hypochondriacs. Or maybe I should just speak for myself.
When this is over, we'll have a nation and world full of PTSD.  Some of us already had enough life drama to deal with thank you very much. We didn't need forced quarantine to mess with our heads.  Eternal solitude is not good for our mental health. But I'll tell you what it IS good for -  perspective.
Is anybody home? 

I miss touch. I miss kisses. I miss hugs. I miss looking into someone's eyes knowing what they're going to say before they say it. Boomers are intuitive because psychedelic rock lyrics made us Grateful...but not Dead.   Did you catch that?  

One day soon, when all this is over and the world begins to turn again, I'm going to make sure all my face-to-face encounters mean something more than a hasty hello and goodbye.  I might wink at stray dogs and millennials for a change.
 There are people I'm waiting to embrace - I mean really embrace.  Oh, I'm making my list. And those kisses....well..... I'll keep that to myself for now. There are those I want to love on awhile and listen to their housebound war stories. I'll let them tell me all about it over cups of steaming coffee and vodka shots. Some I will never look at the same way again because when the long strange trip drops a sledgehammer of perspective on your quarantined doorstep, you suddenly have miles and miles of minutes to think about wasted time.   Ain't nobody got time for that. 
 BC (Before Coronavirus) was just stale cornbread in a souffle world.  We've just learned how alive life is supposed to be. 
We're all just trying not to die.




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Monday Mimisms ~Will The Real Debate Please Stand Up?

This is what I wrote on Facebook tonight. 



Yep. That pretty much sums it up.
It's hard to choose a winner in the middle of a tabloid reality show. 
Nobody wins.

Wake me up on November 9th.
Goodnight.



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