Tag Archives: Meaning

Living lying down

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mussed up light blue sheet with two cat paws peeking out, black and white fur

I’ve been trying to figure out what it all means. I mean my life these days. What does it mean to be ill, to be mostly fatigued, to be compelled to rest most of the hours of my days? I wasn’t sure what photo could go with this question, and then I happened to see this photo of Billie from five years ago, her body hidden under a sheet on the bed, just her little paws sticking out. Somehow that fits. These days I am mostly hidden, lying down somewhere, sometimes under a sheet, and just a tiny part of me emerging into the world now and then.

I used to admire the elders who were out on the picket lines into their eighties and nineties. It makes me sad, but I don’t think that can be me. I still care about the things I used to care about. I hunger for justice, for human rights, for kindness, for peace. I still rage against cruelty, oppression, violence, and genocide. I scroll on Facebook and try to bear witness to all that is happening out there. I share posts that document the atrocities, in the hope that bearing witness is better than silence. I share posts that document the resistance, in order to foster hope in the face of so much despair. But is that diminished activism what my life now is meant to be about? Is it what it means?

Spoon theory is a method of managing energy for many people with disabilities and/or chronic illness–if we only have so many spoonfuls of energy, we have to ration our activities to match the spoons we have. Lately I am always running out of spoons before I can finish the tasks of daily living. I am lucky if I can keep up with the dishes in the kitchen sink, keep up with cleaning out the litter box for the cats, keep up with watering the vegetables I was so bold to plant. Are these tasks of daily living what my life means now? Do I need to cultivate that Zen approach to being fully present in each moment, however mundane?

Meanwhile, I spend many hours lying on the couch watching tv shows on Roku. Sometimes I have to manage my energy for that too. I can’t handle too much drama. British mysteries are about right, especially if I have seen them before and they are well done. Nature shows are usually okay, unless there is too much about how we are destroying it. Sometimes I nap during the shows. Lately, I’ve been watching “Would I lie to you?” on Britbox for laughs. It all feels rather pathetic actually, but this is the unvarnished truth.

I don’t have the answers to my questions. I don’t know what it all means. But I feel like I have to wrestle with this reality I am living in, wrestle with the meaning, because that is also still who I am, a wrestler-with-meaning. I can look out on the world, but I must also look into this intimate space under the covers. I believe that each human being has inherent dignity, each life has ultimate value. I believe that we are all connected. So how do I find the ultimate value in this life of mine, right now, not based on what I have done or who I have been, but right now. Still able to write sometimes, but about to lie down for the rest of the day.

Unraveling

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Waking in the night again and trying to make meaning of everything. Dangerous. I think I must be more of a writer than a gardener. Needing so much to make meaning of it all. But I’ve had a hard time writing lately. I can’t seem to find any words for what has been happening in our world. But I am sitting here in the sleepless dawntime trying to see what might come out if I put my fingers on the keyboard anyway.

I have been a protester most of my life: peace activist, justice activist, feminist activist, anti-racist activist. Perhaps ironically, given the current state of Christianity in our country, it was the teachings of Jesus that first opened my eyes to the problems in how we were living in the United States. I began to see the cracks in the American “building,” who was left out, who was pressed down, who was held under. And on the other side, I was imagining how we might live if we followed our deep values, if we cared for each other, if we cherished all of us. Sometimes I even got the chance to put that imagination into practice.

As an activist, I certainly had moments when I wished for revolution, wished for the whole unjust system to come crashing down. Of course I did, awake to all that was broken in our country. But that awareness meant I also didn’t pay as much attention to the parts that did work for the good of the whole. And now, it seems those are the parts that might come crashing down, might be unraveled. Who could have guessed the Postal Service would come under attack? I never imagined that we might need to defend the Postal Service. Especially now when we rely on it more than ever because of COVID 19.

We know that Social Security and Medicare and Medicaid are also under attack. I feel vulnerable to that personally, because I now rely on Social Security and Medicare to survive in my older age, since I am no longer able to work.  I think Social Security is about 65% of my income, because I am lucky enough to also have a small retirement annuity. But according to SSA statistics, among elder Social Security beneficiaries, 21% of married couples and about 45% of unmarried persons rely on Social Security for 90% or more of their income.  These are not perfect systems by any means. But they at least acknowledge the common reality that we all might grow old, we all face vulnerability to illness, we all need each other.

The thing is, right before our eyes, those in power are bankrupting the best parts of our country for their own personal gain. They are undoing the very idea of government’s purpose to uphold the common good.  Will there be anything left when they are done?

I am reminded of how, in the Work That Reconnects, Joanna Macy talks about the Great Unraveling, “the on-going derangement and collapse of biological, ecological, economic, and social systems,” caused by business as usual in an industrial growth society. It seems like 2020 has become the year of the great unraveling, what with the pandemic exacerbating everything. (And novel viruses are related to ecological habitat destruction as well–but that is another story.) However, this is not really a new phenomenon.

The Great Unraveling may be more apparent today, because of the accelerating rate of change and technological advances in communication, but the living systems of Earth have been unraveling for generations. Under colonial expansion and rule, indigenous, brown, black, and impoverished communities have carried the weight of the unraveling for centuries.

So I don’t know how to make meaning of all of it, how to respond to all of it. I feel the unraveling all around me. Perhaps I have been privileged enough to escape the worst of it before now, and in fact am still privileged enough to have a home, food, even air conditioning in this heat wave we’ve been having in Maine. But I still feel the unraveling all around me.

I usually like to include a photo in my posts, and this is the best I could do this morning: Back in June, the walkway to our front door started to collapse. When I took it apart, and lifted the pavers that had sunk down, there was a huge empty space beneath them. The foundation of the path had disappeared.

Broken walkway This is how it feels in our country right now too. The path crumbling beneath our feet. The foundations of common wellbeing disappearing. Well actually, it feels much worse, but I’m stretching for a metaphor here. And besides, this hole made it difficult for the mail carrier to reach our mailbox, so that’s a link.

Eventually, the walkway was fixable. I finally purchased some paver sand “base” and next layer sand (with curbside pickup), and then this past weekend, I dug out the loose sand, refilled the foundation under the hole, leveled it off with sand, and put the pavers back into place. It was hard work, but doable. Can anyone repair the breach in our country’s foundations?