47: Week 12

Some people prep for the apocalypse by purchasing firearms, jugs of water, generators, canned food, and whatever should accompany a doomsday prep kit purchased on some internet site. Nan and I are taking a different approach with our maneuvers, pivots, and stances--we're learning dance steps. Who knows what a box step, foxtrot, promenade, and underarm turn might provide during times of grave danger and uncertainty. We had our first lesson this past week, courtesy of one of Nan's besties, a three pack beginner private set of lessons. No phone scrolling. No mind drifting to the what was, what is, and what if clutter that sends me into a funk. Nothing but laughter, eyes connecting, an intimacy needed during what feels like a constant onslaught of bad news with a sprinkle of hope. 

This morning's news wandering somehow landed me on an article about 47 and the National Museum of African American History and Culture, and while USA Today is not on my list of where I go for news, the article clearly aligned with the executive order issued March 27, 2025 (Restoring Truth...), one of many issued fueled by hate and a fanatical desire to rewrite history through erasure. After finishing the article and remembering my own visit to the museum, the deep sorrow and heaviness I felt slowly moving through just a few floors of exhibits because it took hours to absorb, I started to cry at the overt racism that is encouraged and practiced by 47. Today also brought news of hate targeted at Governor Josh Shapiro, an act of antisemitism when someone purposely sets fire to a Jewish residence on the evening of Passover. There is plenty of fuel for tears. Fortunately, my reads also included hope, thanks to a friend posting a beautiful piece by Oliver Kornetzke. While the beginning of the post sets my anxiety moving, it then transitions to hope, and his words I so needed: "And just as importantly: take care of yourself. Joy, community, love, rest—these are not luxuries in a time of repression. They are acts of defiance. They are the fuel for the long fight ahead."

Yesterday, I found joy during hours of digging in the dirt. Leaves, twigs, dead stalks covered the promise of sage. When removed, groups of green growth appeared, healthy, robust, welcoming the hours of sunshine. Tulips are in bloom around our house and many houses when I stroll through the neighborhood. People are out clearing their yards of fall debris, and the dormant is now awake in flowering trees, small hints of bloom on plants. 

Even when signs of hope feel so so distant, they exist. Grab them. Be defiant in taking care.