Readers, thus begins a poetic-juxtapositioning,
my post-election trauma literary antidote,
similar to the post-election proliferation of puppy videos.
I’ll use my own quirky genre–the 420 character-9-line-poem–
to find a way forward, to create mental, spiritual, & physical strength (prana)
so as to unfurl yet again into a joyous (or at least lively) sun salutation
metaphorically & literally. The goal?
Caveats and the rare explanation of the series to come:
I took a break, put the whole debacle on the shelf. I reminded myself that I needed to walk and do yoga. I tried to figure out what the heck happened. But now I want to take action. I’m looking for ideas.
Writing helps me be on the lookout for such. I become like that queen that thinks she’s being poisoned & pretty soon all her food tastes off. The 420-character-9-liner helps me juxtapose ideas & that in turn leads me to another, er, another idea. So:
Living as I do in the United States of America, in a Democracy, I of course accept the results of this election. And, planning as I do for the future health of my planet (how can I not, having begat or been responsible for 14 other humans who routinely orbit and blast-off near me) I want to find a way to make a difference.
Should I join an organization, write letters, hold up signs, talk more seriously with friends, speak truth to power, take exception to racist etc language, engage with a social movement, go to the Million Woman March? Psychology (one of my earlier degrees, I wish I’d paid better attention to that one professor in the department) teaches that people feel powerful and centered when they have a sense of agency. That’s where this is going. Thus begins a poetic-juxtapositioning, my post-election trauma literary antidote, similar to the post-election proliferation of puppy videos. I’ll use my quirky genre–the 420 character-9-line-poem–to find a way forward, to create mental, spiritual, & physical strength (prana) so as to unfurl yet again into a joyous (or at least lively) sun salutation metaphorically & literally. The goal? Exhale.
Those who know me will recognize I like to take solution-focused stances. But the Pollyanna-ish aspect of me is pretty shriveled and, in fact, almost gone. Nevertheless! I’m a bit like the rabbi who was questioned about a story he told of a lion who chased him in the dessert. He survived by climbing a tree. “But there are no trees in the dessert!” people scoffed. “Yes, well, that may be,” replies the wise old man, “But what can we do!!”
So. Exactly. What can we do.
I feel as if I have one foot in one reality and the other in a reality with which I am not familiar. The Ancients call these transitions Sutaka. And the default response has to be this: don’t forget to breathe. (a new 420-character-9-line poetry series designed to help me find my center and a sense of agency, post-election.