Thoughts on Becoming

"I have become, by certain measures, a person of power, and yet there are moments still when I feel insecure or unheard. It's all a process, steps along a path. Becoming requires equal parts patience and rigor. Becoming is never giving up on the idea that there's more growing to be done." 

- Michelle Obama

Reading Michelle Obama's memoir is a reminder of the possibilities of this country. Her life story and her role as First Lady remind us of aspects of our nation that we should embrace and uphold: diversity, love, community, family, and the importance of hard work and courage. The initiatives she supported and spread through hard work and dedication made important impacts including encouraging and educating young people about how to eat right and exercise, helping to keep the obesity rate among children from increasing. She and her husband also raised billions of dollars to help educate young women in many other countries struggling from sexist traditions and limitations on women. Overall, both Obamas helped give voice to the voiceless, upended the status quo that tended to demoralize people of color and all minorities, worked with compassion and sincerity to help lead this nation.

And where are we now in 2020? What are we becoming? It is hard to see hope in the current path our nation is on now. With around 3.9 million confirmed cases of COVID-19, the numbers starkly rising in many states, the US is one of the top 10 nations with the worst outbreaks; this is not a position to be vying for. How is our nation so divided in its control of this virus? How did medical science and mask wearing become a political statement? How is state's access to federal funding based on the president's subjective favoritism?

The wounds and trauma of this pandemic are worsened by the hateful rhetoric of the POTUS, by his belittling and condescending tone toward all people who do not think like him. Where has dignity gone? It seems like it was forced out in 2017.

With this presidency, our nation's progress toward unity and collective democracy has been hindered by racist, white supremacist vitriol, a reality that has plagued our country for centuries. However, the nationwide and world wide protests against racism and unfair policing have proved that important cultural shifts are occurring and galvanizing citizens to uphold and fight for a true democracy that represents all beings justly. As we near the presidential election in November, there is hope that more people will be empowered to vote, that voters will begin voting for the greater good of our nation rather than their individual biases, that the majority of our people will help oust a tyrannical, hateful, self-serving, unethical person from the White House.

The America we need to become is one of acceptance and justice for all, regardless of race or income. This is a process that will need to continue for generations. As Frederick Douglass once stated,
          If we ever get free
          from the oppressions and wrong heaped on us,
          we must pay for their removal.
          We must do this
          by labor,
          by suffering,
          by sacrifice,
          and if needs be
          by our lives and the lives of others.
Our progress will not be easy and will continue for a long time. But there is hope we will move toward a more united nation, free from the shackles of racism and division. We should be united in our fight against this pandemic, united in our fight for a healthier world. If we work together free from barriers and political walls, we will help ease one another's suffering, and our collective sacrifices will help bring back dignity and love to this land.

To connect back to Michelle Obama's Becoming, reading this book has been refreshing, restoring my faith in this country, helping me find a connection, however small, to what it means to be American. To me, this means rising above society's limited expectations, unfair assumptions, stereotypes, and with the support of family, finding your own way to contribute to the world. Her story asserts that all our voices need to be heard and accepted into the quilt of this nation. She is an ordinary person who was placed in an extraordinary position of the first African-American First Lady which carried countless responsibilities and incessant demands. Her invitation is important: "Let's invite one another in. Maybe then we can begin to fear less, to make fewer wrong assumptions, to let go of the biases and stereotypes that unnecessarily divide us." This book was published two years ago though these principles are even more essential today. We must commit to this process, vote out racist, divisive politicians, put power in the positive, and continue to struggle for progress.    

The Start of Summer

Rain cascaded down the forest canopy,
landing, sliding upon the roof of the shelter.
Huddled on a picnic table beneath it,
we watched the story unfold, 
mesmerized by the rising action,
the sound and silence of the setting.

Minutes. Hours. Hopes of hiking
washed away in rivulets
down to the once dry creek
now moving with water.
Rain jackets slick, inside and out.
Chilled, the children ran to the car.

Absorbed in my own solitude,
my husband in the tent with the dog,
I reached a precipice of peace.
Months of walls, screens,
tears, puddling on the ground.
The storm soothed me awake.

When it slowed, we collapsed the tents,
stuffed our sacks, packed the car.
Our clothes soaked, prospect of campfire
drowned, we returned home
after a two-hour denouement,
relieved for the washing, the purge. 

"I'm much healthier now because of artichokes" - Emerson

Here are haikus about health and school based on conversations with my kids:

Jazzy

I feel so much healthier
I eat a balanced diet
And I actually exercise

I can go at my pace
I can be in my pajamas all day
I can be around Sirius

I've learned to make more recipes
Lemon bars, chocolate chip cookies,
Stir-fried tofu, gluten free biscuits

Emerson

I literally miss school so much
When I watch a show where they are in school
the picture of school pops up in my head

Doing all this work on a computer
My head starts hurting
I don't like being on a screen for so long

I have more time to do things I enjoy
Like soccer and basketball
But it's not as fun without other people

Me

yoga in the driveway
sun salutations disrupted
by my prancing dog

jump rope
squat jumps
plank jacks

up til 1 planning lessons
stay in bed until 7
commute to kitchen

Jazzy's Poem: Spring

The loveliest season for a stroll in the park

Where spring sights and sounds arises

The blossoming of a new flower or bush

The rustling of leaves on a now wholly green tree

The butterflies and bees starting to buzz

The scent of dew from last night's shower

Our senses are consumed by all things wonderful.

The drops on the window slide,

racing one another to create a puddle at the base

The rain knocking at the rooftop

so that you have no choice but to play with it in the streets

It wants to soak your hair and attire

Run down your face as if you are the window

Puddles form below your feet.

New poem: The Spread of Spring

March was the cruelest month,

Swiftly sweeping away the every day:

Shuttering stores, gates down, spaces vacant

Except for shelves, seats, and machines unused.

The winds of winter blew across boroughs, 

arrived on jet streams, breathed new reality into our faces.

Vernal equinox turned us toward more sun

Though we are now shadowed behind our own walls.

In our rooms, some shared, some alone,

We must face the many crowns of this corona,

Like misanthropic monarchs taking over vast regions of our lives,

Bodies decimated by its colonization.

Our only power is staying within

Our own fortresses, reaching out

To the world behind masks,

Waiting and hoping for this epoch to fade.

Now it is April, a kinder month.

While thousands fade with the transient tree blossoms,

Thousands extend from stronger roots,

Growing leaves, together forming canopies for the next season.

"Song of the Pandemic" - a poem I wrote inspired by Walt Whitman's "This Compost"

Song of the Pandemic

          “Now I am terrified at the Earth, it is that calm and patient, 

          It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions,

          It turns harmless and stainless upon its axis, with such endless 

                    successions of diseas’d corpses.” - Walt Whitman 

Only four weeks since stores, schools, and restaurants shut down,
since streets, bridges, and tunnels have become vast, open spaces,
and people have ceased standing side by side on subway platforms or
walking within inches of each other on sidewalks.
Only four weeks since we have retreated to our railroad apartments, highrises, and single-family homes,
since the threat of this virus has flooded our waking and sleeping hours.

How long will this road of isolation and six-foot separation be?
How long will we be sequestered from aging parents, friends, colleagues, neighbors, food servers, baristas, mechanics, ticket sellers, street vendors, museum educators?
How many more thousands of people will have to succumb to this disease,
will shiver, cough, quake, or lose their breath to it? 

How can we find joy when we are separated by barriers: face masks, income gaps, air, windows and walls, our own dark clouds?
Fearing each other’s droplets, close contact, invisible contagion,
how can we continue to connect?

In a time where medical staff, hospital workers, first-responders
are fighting to keep people alive and often losing their own lives,
where weddings are cancelled, births threatened,
how can we keep despair from making us self-destruct?

At home, son and daughter fight over headphones, attack each other
With words, with “you’re always so mean”, “you’re always so selfish”.
They slam doors, kick walls, blame the other.
How can we find harmony in our homes day after day of quarantine?

What would Whitman write during this pandemic?
Would he write a Song for Covid-19?
Would he find a way to celebrate himself and all other city dwellers?

Perhaps this can help save us. To write a song.
For the brook that dazzles in the sun,
the box turtles resting on boulders and tree roots.
For the full cherry blossoms bowing to the wind,
the rain tapping against the glass,
robins and sparrows pecking in the grass.

For each nurse and doctor tending to the sick.
the ambulances that transport them to hospitals,
the oxygen and ventilators helping them breathe.
For each fire fighter and police officer who risks their lives
for civilians’ safety.

Let’s sing to grocery stores and grocers.
After two and a half hours of waiting on line at the food co-op,
I was able to fill my cart with oranges, carrots, spinach, bananas
almond butter, hemp milk, berries, tortilla chips, and scores more.
This song is for all those stockers, cashiers, farmers, factory workers, truckers, and innovators that contributed to this possibility.

For delivery workers and all the items that arrive at our doors.
The routers, wi-fi, laptops, various computer programs,
communication technology and all who run them.
For epidemiologists, journalists, and specialists
who inform the people of this disease.

Let’s sing hope for immunity and rebirth,
restoration of health and work,
for meals for the hungry.
Hope for a new leader who will seek truth and unity for all
and solutions rather than scapegoats.

Despite loss, suffering, and barriers,
we are connected by our fundamental needs of love and life.
Our existence is global, bound by borders,
but we don’t need to be divided.
We will not be taken down by a disease.
Instead we will write songs of praise for heart, laughter, sun, and soil,
Our collective pulse reverberates across hospital floors, cemeteries,
virtual classrooms, homes, and all the spaces we inhabit.

        Brook at Clove Lakes Park during this morning's walk with the dog

My Daughter's 2nd Blogpost: Summer Bucket List

My daughter, J, turns 13 tomorrow! In the dimension that didn't come into fruition, we would be in Miami with my mom, alternating between pool and beach, driving down to the Keys. In this dimension, we will be celebrating in simpler ways: homemade waffles, vanilla layered cake, talking to Grandma and Grandpa from their sidewalk, FaceTime with friends. And of course, dreaming. Here's J's post:

Since we are in quarantine and I’m pretty sure everyone is dreaming about coronavirus being gone by the summer and having a magical time, here is my summer bucket list: 

1. Travel to Europe.
2. Go on a road trip with my best friend.
3.  Have a picnic on the beach
4. Build a pillow fort with friends
5. Go to Coney Island 
6. Go to a drive in movie theater
7. Go to Miami
8. Stay out super late 
9. Stargaze somewhere outside the city
10. Finish decorating my room.