I can’t wait to see it: more angry crowds, huddled outside of GOP offices, gathering in the quickening heat of our earlier summers or the crisp autumn air. They will have signs, some of which will be funny, some cunning, some heartbreaking. I am sure there will be at least a handful of outraged and terrified mothers with posters of their child, whose chemotherapy they now worry about affording, whose coverage they may lose because of Down’s Syndrome, whose asthma inhalers will have to last past the expiration dates now. And their… Read More
I was born of many women. I was born of my mother and grew up intimately with three sisters. Despite the looming patriarchal presence my father imposed, the women in my family had a world unto ourselves—one that existed out of my father’s gaze, on my mother’s bed as we piled in to watch the Gilmore girls, lined up to have our hair brushed and curled, or in the back bathroom of our house, late in the evening, as my sisters and I hoisted ourselves up on the counter of the sink… Read More
A few days ago, I walked into the Davis cemetery, to the hidden acreage in the back, where someone has thoughtfully planted a native habitat. There, under the cloud-streaked California sky, I laid down on the cold, wet Earth and wanted more than anything, to crawl into a hole and stay there. This is how I am feeling. I am terrified by what is going on in our country. I am overwhelmed. I am saturated with despair, soaked down to my bone, heavy and limp, like a dripping wet sponge. And, it… Read More
More than a week ago, my boyfriend and I boarded a red eye to the east coast to attend the Women’s March on Washington. For us (my boyfriend and I, plus my sister and then later my mom and college friends), the March started in Takoma Park, Maryland, where my sister, boyfriend and I arrived at a trainstation early on a foggy winter morning. The air was damp and cold, but not unpleasent. The trainstation, miles from downtown DC, was already bustling with Marchers donning pink pussy hats, signs and political tee-shirts poking out… Read More
In a few days, I will be leaving for DC for the Women’s March on Washington. I would like to carry your prayers for our country with me as I travel and during the March. Please send them to me!
My 2017 New Year’s Resolutions (The Short List): To practice metta once a week To use my compassion as a motivation for political action To meditate four mornings a week To use my insight to bring wisdom while I take action To pray at night for the safety, wellbeing and liberation of all beings To make my prayers reality by taking action To practice my sit spot, and use it to cultivate my deep sense of interconnectedness To use my interconnectedness to inspire me take action To cultivate my vitality by exercising and eating healthier To use my… Read More
My first thought as I rolled over in bed, my eyes blinking through the groggy champagne headache, was, “It’s a new year. I wish that meant shit.” Because, while I love celebrating the New Year and we are all excited to say good-bye to the train wreck that was 2016, the arbitrary changing of the Roman calendar year does not mean much for our nation, for the world, for the mess we are in. Donald Trump will soon be our president, the cease-fire in Aleppo is shaky at best and fascism is… Read More
There is so much darkness in the world right now– Aleppo, our own government, Russian hackers. My normal muscle of resilience, active hope and bounding optimism is feeling both tired and inconsequential. Here is what I am leaning on in these times of darkness.
Last night, I dreamt about Nazi Germany. I woke up, frightened, with images of ghettos and arm bands and lines of Jews on trains and orderly rows of soldiers marching, their bodies erect and rigid, each foot hitting the ground at the same moment.