Spring Interrupted

How the one and only precious snow this winter quiets the mind & creates tragedy for others

I woke up too early. Having a housemate with irregular sleep and waking times can do that. Even my trusty earplugs could not block the energy she carries downstairs in the morning. Once awakened, it is hard for me to return to slumber. So I followed my breath to learn what I was feeling this morning at 5:15 am. I sensed that a huge cloud of depression wanted to sit on my chest, but thought bubbles carrying clusters of words arrived one after the other to dissipate that cloud. Yes, depression is rational and expected these days. There is no medication to erase the nightmares unfolding in the lives of so many. With so much brutality and violence not being held accountable, all of it out of our control, who wouldn’t get depressed. The stories of what is happening are being written into the land and into the scars and creases of the skin of the survivors.

I made myself some tea and walked into my home office, lit some candles on my ancestor altar, and sat in meditation looking out at the snow. Being with my breath and feeling the courage of plants that need to be resilient with this bizarre and beautiful snowfall, I found some solace and eventually found my way to my desk.

My personal medicine to alleviate depression is currently flowing out of my finger tips…I am connecting to the collective, even it if is only one person who reads this, and the knowledge that our rage, sadness, and frustration is seen makes the pain diminish. As I watched the wet snow fall, I was reminded that the cruelty of humans will be healed by the life force that is on the earth. It will find a way to be reborn even if there is a profound erasure that occurs. And even if a meteor hits this glorious and precious orb, smashing its wonders into oblivion, there will be new worlds that arise in some distant future that I cannot imagine in this moment, but I know that they are hiding there.

I am grateful that the snow is here to prevent me from spreading myself too thinly today. Without many plows in town, I have no motivation to get into my car and do things. I have a tendency to run from my uncomfortable feelings like most of us have been conditioned to do. At least, I am mindful that I am doing that.

While sharing via text my childlike joy at the mid-March snow with friends, I learned that one friend is mourning the loss of her plum crop. The blossoms were fully out awaiting the bees, but now they are now holding the weight of this very wet snow and will likely fall to the ground unmet by a friendly pollinator. For her, this is a tragedy, especially given all the devoted efforts she puts into pruning this typically abundant tree with her aging, aching body. She also expressed deep sadness for the other stewards of fruit orchards all over the region.

I mentioned my friend’s disappointment about the plum tree to two others who grow food, one in a much colder climate (Vermont) and the other east of the mountains in Wenatchee (one of the major fruit growing regions), and they said that it’s not unusual to lose of season of a crop due to unfortunate weather patterns. I’m sorry for those who are not prepared for this kind of loss. It seems that more and more loss will be in our future of climate weirding. Gaia is sending stronger messages about the misbehavior of a society bent on extraction and exploitation of the earth and its beings.

A friend just returned from a research trip - she’s writing a book about the impact of climate catastrophe in different parts of the world. I sat with her drinking tea the day before the snowstorm and learned that she was concerned about my preparedness for a nuclear disaster. I listened to her patiently as she suggested that my having a basement and a go-bag were helpful things to have. I told her that I’ve been working with this fear of nuclear war since childhood, and that after making multiple, interactive installations about the topic, working closely with Joanna Macy and others to transform my despair and numbness into action, I no longer see the point of putting much energy into preparedness. I’ve made peace with my mortality and accept that there are so many things outside of my control. There’s little I can do at this point about the insanity of world leaders, but I can recalibrate my nervous system daily via breathwork, artmaking, physical activity, and sharing love, laughter, and kindness with others. I’ve come to the conclusion that when my thyroid medication runs out (which it will, if the system continues to collapse), I’ll slowly decompose, hopefully without too much pain. Perhaps after I’ve given away all of my worldly goods, my go-bag will be quite tiny, containing one cyanide pill.

To learn more about the project below, go to https://faculty.washington.edu/bnaidus/THIS%20IS%20NOT%20A%20TEST.html

___________snow melting day____________________

Wow, I can get stuck in some heavy shit at times, can’t I? I think my readers may see me as someone always pulling the possibilities out of muck, lifting up what we can work towards, and I try to do that most of the time, but there are days when that’s just not available to me. I want to be honest with you about that. From an early age, I had a tendency towards both depression and anxiety, and although I was thankfully never medicated for either, I do respect that many people do need medication for these conditions. I was lucky to learn early that my creativity was the only way to dig myself out of those challenging feelings. I continue to trust in that power, but there are days when carrying what I carry is a lot.

And I’m going to go next door now to hug some neighbors and bless them with some gifted bagels. Love…..