What Do We Celebrate :: Three Hundred Twenty Seven

Every year I look forward to Thanksgiving. It's my favorite holiday... and no, not because of the Pilgrims and Wampanoag, not because of infantilized versions of the first harvest and feast at Plimouth Plantation. I love Thanksgiving for the simple pleasure of sharing our blessings, our works, and best intentions, for the communion, reflection, gratitude. It's reassuring to revisit traditions, connect with family, open our doors to new friends, offer our services to community, to strangers. The familiar dishes we prepare, the care we put into a gathering centered around thanks restores my spirit, guides my intentions, inspires my thoughts and actions. And honestly, sadly, this is the first year I feel almost too devastated by events in the world, by words and character, by symbols, threats, attacks, acrimony, and dishonor, to feel the pleasure, the healing, of Thanksgiving.

With every bit of sorrow, fear, grief, anguish, and injustice I read about, I feel more and more detached from celebration, from happiness. The reports from Standing Rock, where The Standing Rock Sioux and supporters are being abused for fervently insisting that their land and water be protected... the news from these events is wrenching, and the actions of the United States government are deplorable. This is not one hundred years ago, two hundred years ago. This break of treaty, this militant abuse of our citizens is unconscionable, and it is happening today, under our watch. I would like to be a proud American, but this disgrace speaks to a long history of maltreatment and dishonor against indigenous people, against my people. My thanks, my honor, my respect, my celebration is for the Sioux Nation, for their supporters, for peaceful protest, for the bravery of all who sacrifice to preserve and protect natural resources, land and water. Their land and water. Our land and water. My thanks, is for the courageous and good men and women who stand against tyranny, and for justice.

And Also...

I've just come back to add a few things, in hopes that it will be cathartic.

My heart is with my Grandmother, and I am praying for her comfort, for healing, for her peace of mind, for literally just everything to be good, and safe, and beautiful, because she deserves nothing less.

Rest in peace, Curry, you golden, darling pupper. Straight to heavenly fields and cool waters, to our pet families who have gone before you.

The election fallout is still seeping it's dark poison into my psyche, and I will not wait and see. Every troll, fascist, racist, Nazi, hater, fear-monger, and greedy s.o.b. crawling out from under rocks: See the light! Shudder in the reflection of the love, peace, compassion, humility, humanity, kindness, sympathy, empathy, and resilience of the forces that deny your will, your ignorance, your hate. I don't have time, and I won't make space, for your shit.

I am doing laundry, cooking, repairing the plumbing, and will be facing big OC traffic. I am not happy, but I am able, and riled up, and today, and tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, I will move forward. I am cursing and shaking my fist at tragedy and injustice, against war, genocide, torture, loss, heartache, sad times, setbacks, bullies, hangnails, atrial fibrillation, flat tires, and even death and taxes. Thank God, I can get riled up and rally.

With Infinity More Monkeys, a picture a day.