We bombed Iran.
We fuckin bombed Iran.
I’m beyond devastated. How to go forward let alone how to get out of bed.
I don’t normally cry, only at old bell telephone commercials or sad or incredibly beautiful passages in a book.
Yet I feel the tears flowing. I weep and rend my t-shirt, cover my face, pull my hair, pound my fists – and scream. Tears of disbelief, screams of shock, of fury, of dispair, of deep sorrow for the lives so far away, lives that are & will be destroyed – and by people who profess to follow the man who said to love your enemies, to do good to those who hate you.
He didn’t say make enemies of people living so far away who are not followers, then bomb the hell outta them.
What to do now? I look out my front door, as I’ve done so many times over the past decades, searching for the peace & justice loving people.
Who are not there. Only a few crows squawking madly as they flap away.
Do I follow? Would I if only I could.
Do I go buy organic dark chocolate or my favorite ice cream on sale that I was able to resist yesterday, the”buy one get one free”?
Do I go to my fave dim sum restaurant and fill my belly with the special treat food of decades? Or maybe the all-you-can eat sushi place?
You get the thread – maybe allowing myself to focus on my favorite foods redolent with sweet memories of shared moments with family, with lovers, with fierce Amazon sistars will permit me to get out of bed, to get in gear.
Do I turn on a fiction audiobook and start an extremely difficult jigsaw puzzle, my go-to entertainment relaxation diversion?
Do I walk to the Bay or take a ferry to San Francisco and stare out over the Bay, the ocean and feel her healing energy – that must be furious energy today.
What do I do? Do I call every single fuckin democrat who is allowing this illegal & immoral war to continue? Many times a day.
Do I leave the planet?
In the end, I simply text a few friends before I paint a t-shirt & make a sign.
This entire year of tRump has
