Category: politics

aging, anxiety, friendship, life lessons, mindfulness, politics

A Positive Note

mimijk

Hi my friend,

These days I hold my breath after asking how you are. My hunch is that you are as frightened, stressed and as quasi-fatalistic as me. There is so much horror and division; it feels like decent conversation has gone by the wayside. We see the direction this beautiful experiment is going and shake our heads, shudder, and manifest peace only to hear the universe respond with ‘leave a message at the tone’.

I promise to turn this musing around – watch this…

I have been a domestic diva of late, reminding myself that my name is not ‘Hazel’ and Andy is not ‘Mr. B’ (yes, I’m dating myself and grinning because I hated that show when I was a kid). Doing laundry, cooking, food shopping – I’m finding these day-to-day activities comforting in a way. These are all repetitive actions that give me moments of calm. After all these years, there is a mindlessness to doing the mundane, while also needing to be a little bit present. In the haze of that limited awareness, I’m pretty calm. (Note to Andy – do not in any way read this as a paean to domesticity. Definitely not the intent).

There is something about bookstores that I gravitate to, as an oasis in a desert. A cup of coffee and the time to look at every aisle, breathing the smell of book and coffee is irresistible. It’s my happy place. I never leave empty handed, which to me is reflective of a positive outlook. Between my kindle and the growing pile of books on my desk, night table, ottoman and any other flat surface, it will take a really, really long time to get through them all. Let’s keep in mind, that every time I go to a bookstore, I leave with some written work, and the piles grow. If that’s not optimistic, I don’t know what is. I have every intention of reading them all and will likely continue to increase the books in the stacks. Kind of like Sisyphus, but I enjoy the trek.

I don’t have to say this, but I’m neurotic enough to do so. These are times of incalculable tension. It is true that I have not seen anything this fraught ever. There air reeks of acrimony that isn’t handled as reasonable people would prefer (on both sides of this huge divide). And it’s scary and it’s isolating and elicits feelings of generational trauma. I only inhale deeply when I’m in my cocoon of home, hearth, dogs and books (and Andy too). This isn’t the way I thought about getting older. Naive, I suppose. But I’m holding on to hope – desperately, perhaps. Jean Kerr defined hope as “the feeling you have that the feeling you have isn’t permanent”. I think I’ll go read.

Have a good day – sending love,

Mimi

life lessons, politics

Irony

mimijk

Hi my friend,

At the risk of redundancy, how are you? I wonder how you’re faring with these days of whiplash and cacophony – it seems like dissonance is the new normal. A strange soundtrack to be sure.

I’m careening between indignation and disbelief; two sentiments I don’t deal with very well. In fact I’m trying very hard to make sense of the nonsensical, and failing miserably. When Alanis Morrisette penned the song ‘Ironic’, I nodded in time and agreement, amused at the creativity of the lyrics.

Not today though – today I have a backpack filled with the ridiculousness of these times. So with no rhyme or reason, I submit the following with the hope that I’m not alone…

1). Dear Senators Graham and Hawley – your hypocrisy is showing – sit the hell down. As much as I agree with the perspective that streaming services need to be more diligent in creating safer platforms for children, it offends me to hear you assert that the CEOs have “blood on their hands.” You’re kidding right? He who throws the first stone, gentlemen …where is the sound bite about the NRA? Isn’t the absence of measures to ensure that AK-47s are excluded from individual purchase irresponsible at best? Or, that background checks should be rigorous? Does the fact that the majority of gun owners support reasonable regulations mean anything? And yet you do nothing. Hmm, I guess that means that you too have blood on your hands – just sayin’…

Dear Boeing – seriously? A few of your newly constructed airplanes have passed quality control, albeit with a few missing or loosened bolts. They assure us that every plane has been re-inspected, honestly it doesn’t do much to allay concerns..

Dear Puxatawny Phil – go ahead and burrow yourself. All the spotlights on you ensure that a shadow will be seen. Hardly prescient, I’m afraid.

Dear Literate People – if you don’t feel exorcised by the systematic banning of books, then your silence becomes complicit. Banning the Bible? The Merriam-Webster dictionary? Choosing to remove undeniable facts about our country’s history – because a discrete few want to edit the past? When did ‘woke’ become an epithet? Anyway, if you want to see the ever-expanding list of classics, just Google it – and then consider that anything other than a passionate defense, isn’t a defense at all.

Dear Politicos – give me a break. You flood my inbox, asking for money for elections that will take place in various eligible states. First of all, my name isn’t my surname, and it’s ironic that you plead for contributions yet can’t get my name right. Just for grins, I tallied up the requests for $20.00 – no surprise it would do up to a healthy contribution. Is it wrong of me to want to hear a stump speech that reflects aspirational ideas instead of negative assurances? Just throw me a bone – let me know what the plan is (caveat – I won’t vote for any misogynistic sycophants, those who limit the rights of women, denigrate minorities with extreme self-righteousness – but if your platform is filled with what you won’t tolerate, tell me how you’d change it)

I could go on, but your attention is being tested, I’m sure…So much irony, so much I find enraging. And in the purest sense we are all here to share the walk home (thank you Rumi), to accept the responsibility of being accountable to and for each other, to marvel at our ability to affect people without a clue that we have done so and to accept the mantle of love, for at the end of the day, that is our common denominator.

Take good care, my friend – I’ll write again soon. With love, me

anxiety, faith, life lessons, politics, Ukraine,

What’s going on?

mimijk

Hi my friend,

I hesitate to open this letter with an inquiry as to how you’re doing, for I think I know.  You are struggling to stay away from the news, yet realize the importance of knowing what’s going on, your head aches with the insistent rhythm of a drum (one of the big ones), tears arrive unexpectedly – part sorrow, part fury.  You cling to the faith in your soul, yet worry that faith may not be enough.  You worry, you fret, you feel the breath of your mom on your neck.  No, I’m sorry about that last part – that’s my mom having a PTSD episode in the afterlife, and reminding me to remember too.

We shake our fists at the sky, we donate money to so many causes that it’s possible we will become a cause ourselves, we pray silently and constantly.  Our impotence is matched solely by our desire to make it better.  I wrote yesterday that it’s like yelling into a window fan.  When I was a kid, I used to stand on Roosevelt Avenue underneath the elevated subway and sing a note as loud as I could without opening my mouth too wide just to see how loud I could voice my frustratons without anyone looking at or hearing me (I didn’t want to scare anyone).  There are no elevated subways in North Carolina, so I’ve sort of screwed myself out of an emotional outlet.

So, we commiserate you and I – Putin is wrong, Trump has defrauded the government (and to those who disagree with me – so be it – but it’s been common knowledge for years)…if you’re lucky, your children turn into the kind of adults you always wished them to be, love as a verb is far better than love as a noun or adjective.  I could go on – but it’s probably better if you do this exercise yourself.

It seems like we are all going off half-cocked with our own egocentric responses to the moments before us.  Our need to control a narrative that has gone off the rails.  We grow more prideful, more adamant in our positions because we can’t be wrong.  Criss Janis has a great thought – “Pride is pride not because it hates being wrong, but because it loves being wrong:  To hate being wrong is to change your opinion when you are proven wrong; whereas pride, even when proven wrong, decides to go on being wrong”.

Is this where we are?  We refuse climate change, we deny civil rights to discreet populations because of some narcissistic need that has nothing to do with the people being harmed?  We repeat the atrocities of the past – not because we refuse to learn – but because we can’t be wrong? Seriously?

Ah my dear, I have raged for too long, with little to offer as a prescription – it’s time to bring this to a close.  But you know me – I have to sign off with some attempt at grace.  I stll maintain that we are a glorious species (if misguided and prideful),  with gifts to offer each other that are indescribably beautiful and the brilliance to put the sun to shame.  I am grateful you are here, I am beyond fortunate that we are friends, and today, right at this moment, feels like singing under the elevated.  Sending you much love…

duality, honesty, inspiration, Joe Klaas, politics, Uncategorized

The Truth About The Truth

mimijk

Hi,

Remember that great scene in “A Few Good Men” when Jack Nicholson vehemently states, “You can’t handle the truth!”  I love that.  Because we skirt so many truths out of fear, reluctance, discomfort, personal disgust – I could go on.

Does that mean we are dishonest, horrid liars?  Absolutely not – in fact, I really like us as a species.  For every awful, despicable action that we witness, there is a generous, loving gesture to be seen.  We are cool, talented, smart, and have great music.  Our hugs can nourish us; our humor evokes hiccups, stomach cramps and a warmth like nothing else.

But are we honest?  I mean, really, really honest?  When we insist that we are our own worst enemy – um, not sure about that.  I think we’re honest with ourselves to the point of disquiet.  If it causes us too much agita, we move on to the issues we can handle.  Joe Klaas writes, “The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off”.  We certainly can feel self-anger – I’m just not sure if it’s about the stuff that whispers to you in the dark.

Don’t misunderstand me, please – I’m not the icon for honesty.  As a kid, I thought I invented lying – rationalizing (and perhaps to a degree rightly so – or so I believed) that my parents would freak if I came clean.  Obviously to a kid, that means you don’t want to get in trouble, and I hated getting in trouble (of course, who does?).

As an adult, some truths are harder to face, and perhaps if the effect of keeping them hidden causes little harm to yourself or others, those defense mechanisms arguably should remain in working order.  After all, they’re there for a reason.

But the big ‘but’ to me, is the illusion of all truth all the time.  I think that in and of itself is a fallacy.  I think we hide from certain truths, deny others and refuse to even consider some.  And perhaps the admission of this is the most honest we can be.  Personally I think that’s ok.

I’m not suggesting that we shouldn’t look deeper, harder and with a more fearless eye. We may learn something about ourselves that really can free us from certain emotional binds that inhibit blood flow.  In fact, I think it’s a courageous thing to do.  I also think that in reality it is the fear of what we might find that makes us our own worst enemy.  Surrounding ourselves with a sycophantic chorus that assures us that our flaws are minor and our assets too numerous too mention – I’m not sure that gives any of us the love, understanding and perspective we deserve.

Where the hell is this all coming from?  Certainly the disingenuousness of the news here in the States, the frustration I feel at all the crap that’s circulating and frankly soiling the air I breathe.  A little self-reflection, a little candor, a lot of humility and a recognition of the failures in our humanity would be welcome.  Whoever you’re for or against is not the issue – what is at issue is the absence of honest self-reflection, for starters.  And frankly, if you’re an enemy to yourself, how can you be for anyone?  Just sayin’.

inspiration, Joe Biden, leadership, politics, travel, Uncategorized

Joe Biden and me

mimijk

Back in the day when biglaw was  my professional home, I was a road warrior.  United Airlines loved me – I still have one of those ‘million miler’ logos on my membership card.  And I was a global services member which elevated my travel still further.  It was heady, I admit.  I share this only to put the story in context.  Why would I be in first class flying from Frankfurt to the US?  Why would someone with a carnation in his lapel come on board to welcome me into my seat and thank me for traveling with United?  I’m tellin’ ya – crazy..

Our flight was delayed for reasons that were not made quite clear.  Unclear that is, until Joe Biden, John Kerry and Chuck Hegel came on board.  They had been in Afghanistan and there was a problem with their plane.  So they were flying United.  And here I am, in seat 1A, one of only two people who had been pre-boarded trying to look  as bemused and nonchalant as possible.  John Kerry walks by, nods at me and sits behind me in 2A.  He immediately gets on his cell phone and calls…Ted Kennedy who was in Texas campaigning for Obama.  In a toneless and enthusiastic voice, he sang ‘Happy Birthday’, joked a bit and said his good-byes.  I thought that was so touching, and was debating the appropriateness of turning around and saying something; Kerry put his sleep mask on and remained stationery and inert throughout  boarding, take-off, etc…

Chuck Hegel recognized me, but couldn’t place the face.  Andy and I had seen him and his wife a few times at the movies.  He took his seat, took out reading material, and after take off, engaged a bit with the gentleman next to him.

Not Joe – Joe sat in his seat to eat, but beyond that was up and talking with everyone.  He was carrying a copy of the magazine ‘Country Home’ and told me that Jill told him he’d be in trouble if he didn’t come home with an opinion about some proposed redecorating project.  He laughed, he kibbitzed, so comfortable in his skin, so untouched by the mantle that he wore.  It was the most intimate and delightful flight of my hundreds.  Thanks to Joe.

When we landed at Dulles, we met again at baggage claim and he asked his Secret Service guys to grab my bag too.  As we walked out, my husband and son were there, Matt’s eyes wider than usual.  Joe asked if I wanted a Starbucks, and I declined.  I wanted to get home.  And so did he.  It was a courtesy.  Of course, Matt couldn’t believe I turned down the offer.  In retrospect, neither do I.

Yes there were times too, when Joe and I were on the same train heading to or from Union Station in his days as a Senator.  He knew everyone in his ‘usual’ car, every ticket collector, their families, their stories.  You could feel his affinity for others – and you just wanted to be around the guy.

Why write of this now?  Yesterday’s emotional tribute to him at the Capitol affected me.  To hear bipartisan, emotional appreciation for someone – for anything – was a moment’s balm during these unnerving times.  Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that it would be because of Joe.

And know what?  It doesn’t even feel presumptuous calling him by his first name.

C.S. Lewis said, “For what we see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing:  it also depends on what sort of person you are.”  Hey Joe, thank you for the time I got to stand with you.  Best.flight.ever.

aging, anxiety, bias, politics, Uncategorized

Defining Purpose

mimijk

Note to you, my friends – this post contains some political opinions which may likely differ from yours.  I respect yours; thank you in advance for respecting mine.

Hi,

The night merged at some point with the morning, although I honestly can’t tell you at what point that happened.  Yet here we are, 5:00 AM – the Sirs walked and fed, the sun preparing for its entrance stage right, and somewhere behind the clouds, the moon is tiredly anticipating some rest.

I’m over-caffeinated, over-tired, and my thoughts are a muddled reflection of both.

I alternated between watching our election returns and watching ‘The Crown’ on Netflix.  Arguably one offset the disbelief that informed the other.  I despair of the choice the US has made.  It isn’t the despair associated with backing the losing candidate – one reaches a point in life where loss is not unfamiliar; rather something that winds its way around the soul, infusing it with a sense of dread, a shortening of breath that mimics a mild panic attack when one tries to determine what is going to happen next.  I am not going to offer you chapter and verse of my concerns and/or fears – they matter little in a forum which precludes dialogue.

My mom told us that following Kristalnacht, my grandfather went to synagogue with the belief that what was needed was more prayer.  Whether his assessment was right or wrong is not for any of us to say.  He lost brothers and sisters in the Holocaust, my mother bore the internal scars of a survivor with a burden on her teen-age shoulders that was unfairly weighted.  Yet, my grandfather, grandmother, mom and uncle made it here along with a few other relatives.  Was it faith that got them here?  Certainly, there were millions who perished who were equally righteous.  Serendipity?  Luck of the draw?  I have no idea.  I do know her reverence for this country, the way her eyes welled when she even mentioned Ellis Island – her belief that her life was to be lived for those who had not.  She was a complicated woman; she was a woman of valor.

Her perception of her purpose for being was fraught with ambivalence.  How the heck can an adolescent assume the responsibility for so many lost lives?  How does an adult fully actuate when she identifies herself with such a legacy?  Somehow it all got distilled into taking care of her family – and that was both a blessing and a burden, I think.

During one of the episodes of ‘The Crown’, the Queen Mum, still mourning the loss of her husband, her home (ok, Buckingham Palace isn’t exactly homey, but still…), reflects that these losses were deepened further by the loss of her purpose as a mother.  Her girls were grown, their paths understandably not reflective of any maternal need.  And so, she wonders what her purpose may be.

Switching back to the election results with tears spilling down my face…I’m identifying way too much.   Here I sit, in a temporary house with and without Andy (he’s still working in VA),  my sons fabulously grown, retired from a career which was defined by taking care of others and anticipating strategies for future success (within my purview).  What is my purpose now?  What is my place in a country in which I am not sure I am a part?  We have done such a powerful job of alienating each other, pouring vitriol as gas on a flame.  We have blamed and shaken fists, self-righteously proclaimed opinions with no regard for debate and conversation.  We have been disrespectful and judgmental, narrowing the width and breadth of love for humankind, replacing it with some weird sense of superiority.

So, before I devolve into Alice when she was carried along by her own river of tears, I demand to know what am I doing here?  What the hell is my purpose?  Here’s my short answer – I’m here to chart a path where I can make a small impact (let me tell you how challenging it is to try and volunteer anywhere – no, better save that for another day), I’m here to show that there is more to this world than self-important excuses and justifications for things that are just not justifiable.  I am here to love my family and small circle of friends to whatever degree they need that love.  I am here to breathe deeply and try to blunt some of the painfully sharp edges that reflect our current narrative.  One smile perhaps at a time, one genuine moment at a time.  I’m here to grow really, really, really old (I pray reverently) and take up my small space with unflinching love.  Even when I don’t see it.  Just means I have to look harder.  So world, I’m coming for you…after I take a nap.

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