“Let it all wash out in the rain”
Last night: storms.
It’s about letting go.
Peace always able to manifest and turn to resilience and strength to Become.
“If it’s both terrifying and amazing, you should definitely pursue it.”
We almost bought a cactus with a flower glued to the top of it.
We’re free. We’re on the road.
We’ve got a rented car, a manifesto, and all of our trips East are punctuated by Wal-mart.
Off to D.C. for the third time this year.
“I can’t control you, I don’t know you well. These are the reasons I think that you’re ill. And birds were singing. To calm us down.”
“You have a great person to support you with all that–”
“But I want–”
“You want to do it by yourself?”
Shake hands with every loner they meet
A reason to live a reason to grow
Passing over the Missouri river
I am who I am
Where are we going
I’m so tired of this nightmare.
My manic and I.
My fear and I.
Hands of distrust.
“You’ve got so much more to live for”
He’s asking. I’ll drive.
“I said right now it is not enough to appreciate all this. I want to write it.”
“Love the burn of seltzer.”
We end up sleeping that night in the car in a full campsite outside of Indianapolis. Skunks, raccoons populating grass.
This after a mudslide campsite full of humanity, then flirting with a vacant church campground for the night.
Next day, off to Philly. We’re off to Philly.
Time with Ben’s college friends. Gentrification a topic we’re all rolling around on the tips of our tongues.
We eat home cooked food, and read books and drink coffee while the neighbors make noises outside.
Panicked with a splash in the face.
“What is best for me, what is best for them? What’s best for us?”
Every white liberal arts major ever. Perpetuate what we individually think as a revolutionary idea, or continue to hold back and think it through? Flirt, and never commit to a lease. To a place. To a people. To an idea.
For good or bad?
Good for me. That’s all I know. I can’t pretend to understand the rest.
Ask around. How about listening?
Sanctity of black and other minority communities without white “do gooders” who have historically been 99.9% of the problem, not the solution.
Integration? For Who.
For our own guilt and understanding. Hopefully spreading understanding. But possibly diluting the potential for real community organizing in the area by the people who are really playing the game.
I believe in the smile, however.
Mrs. Bigelow stops by my stoop to talk to me. We bridge a gap that’s only imagined.
The groundhog stood alert in the middle of the road as the highway cars whizzed past.
We were one of the cars.
What do you want, white girl?
Armadillos and road gophers and everyone’s living while Baltimore smells like weed.
New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland visited during lunch.
A tunnel under a river.
“This is fucked up.”
About 60 million people displaced in the world. Greater than anytime since WWII. ⅓ of these people are refugees with over 16 million under the UNHCR’s mandate. With the Syrian emergency accounting for ¼ of all refugees, the US leading in 68% of all resettlement in the world, and 10% of the Syrian population needing resettled, we’ve got a lot to think about nationally and as an international community.
We’re asking the EU to serve a greater role in resettlement as the continued increase in refugees and aslylum seekers parallels the increase in fear factor and anti refugee sentiment in the world which has reached from world superpowers to small isolated islands in the sea.
“When I think of all the painful white house meetings I’ve been to this year…” the director of the PRM laments.
Closing borders parallel to washing and sanitizing hands. I look down at the pen I’m holding.
“The world spins. We stumble on. It is enough.”
Orange juice sprayed all over my pants.
Rain, rain, rain.
It’s better when I don’t know.
Give me the secrets.
Today we got Mediterranean burritos and took them to the park to watch planes fly over our heads.
The fact that I know my fears is very good. The amount of time they consume from my mind is not.
I want my life back. I want the go with the flow attitude. I want to be free.
Change mindset. Stop doing for others. Stop doing for fear. And do for yourself.
And read and write the world.
Small birds at feet.
Surfer girl to their falafel,
“But aren’t you glad you at least tried it?”
She scoots in a seat next to me and takes on the dirty kleenex I’ve been avoiding.
“Stop asking for permission and create it.”
Pull off to Welcome Center wash hands and eat lunch. Avocados and bagels. People yelling on the highway. Sun burning my neck, yoga pants and blue sweater Carinne gave me.
My hamsa necklace has turned emerald green for the trip.
His flip flops, rolled up faded pants, mustache and beard have taken on the softness of travel.
We’re looking out on this Amazonian view of Appalachia somewhere an hour west of DC.
There’s an ant crawling on my notebook as I write. And I move to sit by him under the tree.