1. Peony season. All the blooms outside are done, and the ones I have inside, the last ones, the palest pink ones, only have a day or two left before they’ll be gone too. Each bush I planted is in honor of someone I lost, and the first bloom of this season opened the day that Sam died. Having them all around the house for these past few weeks without him helped to ease the grief, helped honor it.
2. Strawberry season. It comes early and is over in just a few weeks, but those weeks are delicious.
3. The back vegetable garden. We have more out front, another three beds and various other locations around the yard, but I’ve been especially loving the back, going out before lunch and picking kale and lettuce to add to my salad, how as soon as I pick some it starts to grow more.
4. Swimming. The few times I’ve gone, I’ve had the whole pool to myself — another thing to add to my list of “things I hope never return to ‘normal’.”
5. Our tiny house. When we were looking for a new house 18 years ago, our realtor didn’t really believe us that the yard was just as important or more so than the house. When we bought this one — older neighborhood, only 1080 square feet, giant tree out front, big back yard, larger lot, close to hiking and parks and trails, a solid house that needed work — she said, “I guess you weren’t kidding.” We wanted a good house, and that meant a place we could have a garden and the dogs we wanted could have a good place to play and take walks. What we really wanted was a home. All these years later — four dogs loved and three lost, replaced kitchen and bathroom and windows and furnace and water heater and roof (twice), me started and left a job at CSU, all the miles walked, weeds pulled, and hours spent playing and lounging in the yard, eating and sharing good food and flowers we grew ourselves — it continues to nourish and shelter us.
6. My tiny family. The Sam shaped hole is still there, so present. I hold space for him without even thinking about it, like when I go to bed at night, when it’s dark and Ringo and Eric are already there asleep, I expect Sam to be on his bed, wait for the shift, the sigh acknowledging me, and then, when it’s quiet instead, I remember. And this happens multiple times a day, all around the house and in the yard and on a walk and even in the car, me forgetting he’s gone, expecting him to be there and then the surprise, the remembering, the emptiness, the sadness. And yet, I wouldn’t trade this because this is what reminds me he was here, he was loved, and that I was too. It hurts, but with good reason.
The day we let Sam go, I gave him a frozen Kong stuffed with peanut butter and cookies. He fell asleep eating it, happy as could be. He hadn’t finished it and I didn’t realize Eric had put it back in the freezer. Every time I saw it in there, I thought, “now how am I ever going to be able to get rid of that?” The other day Ringo was really wanting to chew something, was wrecking one of his toys, so I got out the half eaten Kong and gave it to him. It made both of us happy. He got to have it and I got to let it go.
Bonus joy: clean sheets, a rainy day, that spot on the corner of our new couch that feels so tucked in but also so central, good books (I’m reading the The Broken Earth trilogy from N.K. Jemisin, and it’s so good), good TV (I’m watching the second season of of Homecoming with Janelle Monae and it’s so good, just finished Little Fires Everywhere which was so different than the book but also the same), good podcasts (DYANR still continues to be a favorite, and Mike Birbiglia just released a new one, Working It Out), good music (Rise up by Andra Day is on heavy rotation), yard time, monarch butterflies, new blooms in the garden as the season shifts, naps, writing with Laurie, hanging out with Mikalina, texting with Chloe’ and my mom and brother, practice, working on my book, a big glass of cold water, reading in bed at night while Ringo and Eric sleep, all the people working so hard and risking their own safety and health to care for others and hopefully make things better.
5. hi from Karen Walrond on Chookooloonks. “I am back, wholly and fully. And my brothers and sisters, Chookooloonks is my protest. And I will continue to protest that the beauty of the people of this planet will save us.”
7. Poems from Home with Andrea Gibson, a live poetry performance and Q&A from Andrea’s home in Colorado on June 27th. “This month for Poems From Home, I’ll be reflecting on what Pride month means to me this year, discussing the intersection of art and activism, and working to create a space that is nourishing, loving, and present to this exact moment in time. Bring questions, bring answers, bring your sweet and rowdy selves. I am so very grateful for you all.”
10. Wisdom from Austin Channing Brown: “The work of anti-racism is the work of becoming a better human to other humans.”
11. Unlocking Us, a podcast with Brené Brown, “unpacks and explores the ideas, stories, experiences, books, films, and music that reflect the universal experiences of being human, from the bravest moments to the most brokenhearted…Conversations that unlock the deeply human part of who we are, so that we can live, love, parent, and lead with more courage and heart.”
12. How to Build an Anti-Racist World, a TEDTalk interview with Ibram X. Kendi. “There is no such thing as being ‘not racist,’ says author and historian Ibram X. Kendi. In this vital conversation, he defines the transformative concept of antiracism to help us more clearly recognize, take responsibility for and reject prejudices in our public policies, workplaces and personal beliefs. Learn how you can actively use this awareness to uproot injustice and inequality in the world — and replace it with love.” In related news, Listen to Stamped from the Beginning by Ibram X. Kendi on Spotify. I tried reading the book on my Kindle, but it’s a very dense book that requires more direct attention than I typically have when I read on my Kindle in bed at night. I’m so grateful for the option to listen.
14. Whose Heritage? Public Symbols of the Confederacy from SPLC. “Our public entities should no longer play a role in distorting history by honoring a secessionist government that waged war against the United States to preserve white supremacy and the enslavement of millions of people. It’s past time for the South – and the rest of the nation – to bury the myth of the Lost Cause once and for all.” In related news, 34 Tweets Roasting That Pulled-Down Slave Trader Statue.
16. Wild Writing Family with Laurie Wagner. “a monthly membership which includes three videos a week where I talk about Wild Writing and then give you a poem to write from. Twice a month I gather with students to write live together on Zoom. The community, the writing people have been doing has been life saving for everyone – a way to stay connected to ourselves and to each other.”
Trump’s leadership has been disastrous. But it would be a mistake to place the blame on him alone. In part, we find ourselves here for the same reasons a civil war tore our nation apart more than 100 years ago: Too many citizens prefer to cling to brutal and unjust systems than to give up political power, the perceived benefits of white supremacy and an exploitative economic system. If we do not learn the lessons of history and choose a radically different path forward, we may lose our last chance at creating a truly inclusive, egalitarian democracy.
21. Allies, Don’t Fail Us Again on The New York Times. “Many white people have been moved by the current movement, but how will they respond when true equality threatens their privilege?”
25. Rise Up: A Tribute to Black Lives Matter from The Skate Kid. “A week ago, the D.C.’s Mayor Bowser had the words Black Lives Matter painted on 16th street in front of the White House. She said her hope is that we can all speak up and protect each other. I wanted to share my hope for the future. At 5:30am while the streets were still empty, my parents and I went down to Black Lives Matter Plaza to record this video. I decided to skate to one of my favorite songs, ‘Rise Up’ by Andra Day. I skated to the song based on what I was feeling.”
27. How 2 Lives Collided in Central Park, Rattling the Nation on The New York Times. “The inside story of the black birder and the white woman who called the police on him. Their encounter stirred wrenching conversations about racism and white privilege.”
29. 30 Day Racial Justice Challenge from Kertesha B. Riley on Twitter. “Black America is tired and we’re hurting. If you find yourself asking ‘what can I do,’ start here. I’ve created this challenge and am dedicating the next 30 days to learning about and engaging the work of racial justice.”
31. Mike Birbiglia’s Working it Out Podcast. “Comedian Mike Birbiglia welcomes a different comedian or creator each week and together they work out original, untested material. And, occasionally, uncomfortable topics. Join them as they work it out.”
37. Full Episode: Where Do We Go From Here? (Part One). (video) “Oprah Winfrey leads the conversation speaking directly with Black thought leaders, activists and artists about systematic racism and the current state of America.”
Resmaa Menakem is a therapist and trauma specialist who activates the wisdom of elders and a very new science, about how all of us carry the history and traumas behind everything we collapse into the word “race” in our bodies. He helps explain why vulnerabilities and inequities laid bare by the pandemic have fallen hardest on Black bodies. He illuminates why all of the best laws and diversity training have not gotten us anywhere near healing.
42. How We Are. “How We Are was started by Nicole Walker and Matthew Batt. They’re both writers and teachers and, beyond reading and writing, they’re both enthusiastic eaters and listeners and purveyors of art of all stripes.”
How We Are was started by them during the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, shortly after they were among the few who attended the Associated Writing Programs conference in San Antonio. They simply wondered, after seeing so few friends and colleagues at AWP, How is everybody?… It’s a simple, but big, question, and they want to know… The idea was to begin by asking a few people they know how they’re doing, but then, like a benign virus, spread it forward and have people reply not to us, but to other people. Together we hope to post, in a time of crisis, a portrait of people simply thinking about other people.
51. What I Hear When You Say, a video series “that explores how words can both unite and divide us depending on our own perspective, experience, and interpretation. Each episode covers a different phrase or term that challenges what we think we know about race, class, gender, and identity. While these topics may be difficult to discuss, starting with a shared understanding will help us connect with one another.”
1. Peony season. All the blooms outside are done, and the ones I have inside, the last ones, the palest pink ones, only have a day or two left before they’ll be gone too. Each bush I planted is in honor of someone I lost, and the first bloom of this season opened the day that Sam died. Having them all around the house for these past few weeks without him helped to ease the grief, helped honor it.
3. The back vegetable garden. We have more out front, another three beds and various other locations around the yard, but I’ve been especially loving the back, going out before lunch and picking kale and lettuce to add to my salad, how as soon as I pick some it starts to grow more.
4. Swimming. The few times I’ve gone, I’ve had the whole pool to myself — another thing to add to my list of “things I hope never return to ‘normal’.”
6. My tiny family. The Sam shaped hole is still there, so present. I hold space for him without even thinking about it, like when I go to bed at night, when it’s dark and Ringo and Eric are already there asleep, I expect Sam to be on his bed, wait for the shift, the sigh acknowledging me, and then, when it’s quiet instead, I remember. And this happens multiple times a day, all around the house and in the yard and on a walk and even in the car, me forgetting he’s gone, expecting him to be there and then the surprise, the remembering, the emptiness, the sadness. And yet, I wouldn’t trade this because this is what reminds me he was here, he was loved, and that I was too. It hurts, but with good reason.
Bonus joy: clean sheets, a rainy day, that spot on the corner of our new couch that feels so tucked in but also so central, good books (I’m reading the The Broken Earth trilogy from N.K. Jemisin, and it’s so good), good TV (I’m watching the second season of of Homecoming with Janelle Monae and it’s so good, just finished Little Fires Everywhere which was so different than the book but also the same), good podcasts (DYANR still continues to be a favorite, and Mike Birbiglia just released a new one, Working It Out), good music (Rise up by Andra Day is on heavy rotation), yard time, monarch butterflies, new blooms in the garden as the season shifts, naps, writing with Laurie, hanging out with Mikalina, texting with Chloe’ and my mom and brother, practice, working on my book, a big glass of cold water, reading in bed at night while Ringo and Eric sleep, all the people working so hard and risking their own safety and health to care for others and hopefully make things better.
Open Space Practice, (AKA: A Thousand Shades of Gray) 