I had quite a few ideas rolling around for this week’s newsletter, I even had one nearly ready, but then we had to rush Ziggy to the ER Wednesday night and everything went upside down. He’s ok now, but it was a long, scary night, and it ended up being the straw that broke the camel’s back.
This week, compounded with the effects of the last year and a half, really got your girl down. Climate change, the Texas abortion ban, the recall election here in California, the hurricane in Louisiana, the earthquake in Haiti, the violence in Afghanistan, the rise of the Delta variant—it’s all so overwhelming. On top of these disasters, man-made and otherwise, there is the man-made disaster of racism, and how it intersects with pretty much all of the above.
In addition to global stressors, there are the stressors that overwhelm the day-to-day: Covid close-calls. Microaggressions. Malaise. Canceled trips. Health issues. Friendships that fall apart. What do we do?
When I’m feeling overwhelmed, I often turn to poetry. Poetry is, as the great Audre Lorde said, “not a luxury.” It can express what is too difficult to articulate plainly, it can animate our purpose, lift us up. With that, I want to share a poem by Lucille Clifton.
won’t you celebrate with me
by Lucille Cliftonwon’t you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between
starshine and clay,
my one hand holding tight
my other hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.
Between starshine and clay -
Emma
love this line: come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.