The Furious Spinner

Everything hurts. My back, my arms, my head. My heart. Soul. I ache. You? I feel so powerless. Everything I've read says that's the worse thing, that's the unhealthiest thing: to feel powerless. Not to be powerless but to feel that way.

I have work to do. So much work to do. I'm behind in everything. But all I can think of is what's happening in our country. I keep imagining these crazy people taking away pieces of our country like people at a party carrying away slices of cake. And afterward, do you know what's left of our country after that? Shit. Yep. Shit.

Oooooh.

People around the world survive under terrible conditions. I read the girl blogger in Baghdad today who predicts our country will soon run red with blood.

I keep hearing Democrats flagellate themselves. I want to scream. Why don't they all just stand up for what they believe?

On TV talking heads often begin sentences with, "The problem with liberals is...."

There is no problem with liberals. We believe in live and let live. You can have your stinking fascist religion, just don't force it down my throat. You can hate whoever you want, just don't do anything about it. You can love anyone you want. You can believe anything you want. Just don't break the law—unless, of course, the law goes against what is ethical and right. We believe people are born with certain unalienable rights; rightwingers believe they have the right to restrict or destroy those rights.

The Democratic Party—or some party—needs to stand up for what they believe in. If someone asks if the Democratic Party believes in a woman's right to have an abortion, the Democrat should say, "YES!" Do you believe in civil rights for gays and lesbians? "YES!" Do you believe in universal health care for everyone? "YES!" Do you believe in protecting the environment? "YES!" Do you believe we should have invaded Iraq? "NO!"

I see the Republicans and rightwingers on TV claiming they won the election because of their values. We can’t let them do that! What kind of values allow senior citizens to have to choose between food and medicines because prescription drug prices are so high? What kind of values prevent my friend Linda (and millions of others) from getting proper medical care for her cancer because she is a single unemployed mother with no health insurance? What kind of values allow big business to destroy our environment so that cancer and other chronic health problems are taking a staggering toll on our population? What kind of values allow a president to run up a huge deficit that our grandchildren are going to be paying for? What kind of values promote prejudice against gays and lesbians? What kind of values say that women can't make decisions about her own body?

A couple days ago I heard someone singing, "God bless America, home sweet home." And I wept. Home Sweet Home. This morning I dreamed I came home and a three legged dog was inside my house. I started yelling, "You can't have this dog in here!" Then I looked around and construction workers were covered with white dust so that I couldn't see their faces. White dust was everywhere. "I can't stay here," I said. "You're going to have to pay for me to stay someplace else!" No one would listen—even though I was screaming.

There has to be a way to get through this.

Last week, one of the elders in our peace group talked about his work over the years. He mentioned 9/11 and how horrible it was that those 3,000 people died. He was troubled, however, that Americans seem to think that those 3,000 people—or any American life—is more valuable than other lives. He said on 9/11 3,000 people in the United States died in the twin towers; 40,000 people died worldwide from starvation. 40,000 people die every single day from starvation or easily preventable diseases. When I heard that, I felt all the air go out of my body. Breathe. Breathe.

What do we do with these facts?

The answer isn't to turn away. The answer isn't to be crushed by the suffering. We need to accept that it exists.

Home Sweet Home

I read an article by Diana Atkinson in Shambhala Sun last night. She was having tea with an elderly friend when the friend told her that her eyes were so bad now that she could barely read without strong light and a magnifying glass. "'So I spend hours on the sofa, my hands folded in my lap, just thinking about Jesus. Remember this, Diana.'...'It's who you are, not what you produce, that matters.'"

In the same piece Atkinson quoted Henry Miller "who said writing for him was 'like sewing up a wound.'"

Oooooohhhh.

I feel so wounded. The world feels so wounded.

When I was a girl, I remember the first time I saw the Star Trek episode where the mute woman feels the pain and illness of other people. Dr. McCoy called her an empath. I remember saying, "That's what I am." I had never heard the word before then, but I knew I was that woman. Didn't everyone feel the pain of the world?

Om Tara Tu Tare Ture Soha

I was like that woman, the empath, only I wasn't mute: I was a writer.

So today, I am threading the needle and sewing up the wounds.

Perhaps.

Thank you for sitting with me while I did a bit of repair work.

May You Stitch in Beauty!

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All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.