Tending the immediate.
Every day is an empty basket. We fill the unfolding hours with interactions, tasks, work, play, pleasure, purpose; also with concern, anxiety, outrage, grief, and the effort to keep going on. Sometimes I feel like Little Red Riding Hood, making my way through the forest carrying the simple gifts of my life, avoiding the wolf (that characterization of fear European settlers brought to these shores). Not really a girl, I am the grandmother in this story—but I will not be eaten. I will not be passive. I will meet these current terrors with a basket of everyday tools for living.
Illustration by Trina Schart Hyman, in her rendition of Little Red Riding Hood. Caldicott Winner, published March 1983. ©
For weeks I have been anguishing over what I can possibly add as we try to make sense and hold steady. Every day a different outrage sends my mind slip-sliding in overwhelm. Meanwhile, there’s my basket: the hours ahead of me. What shall I tend?
Packing up and spilling over. My current journal cover collaged with Joanna Powell Colbert’s wisdom of the Elder card–by permission.
I literally carry a basket out the door, accessorizing readiness to respond to whatever shows up. In my basket: face masks, Kleenex, lavender oil, tea bags, cough drops and salted caramels (take your pick). This includes a little circle kit in a bag: ting sha/chime, votive light, tiny center cloth, stone/talking piece, card with circle agreements. I carry my journal, also pens and several small blank books so I can invite anyone curious about writing in public to join me.
A week after Martin Luther King Day, I flew to Minneapolis to accompany a family member through surgery. We hold hands before she goes into the surgeon’s hands. We surround the procedure with light. I light a (battery) votive candle in the hospital coffee shop where her daughter, a beloved niece, and I wait out the time with vanilla lattes and important words. All is well.
When I fly home, the woman next to me is wild-eyed. “These plane accidents are too much. I’d drive to Seattle but it’s a blizzard between here and there.”
I uncap my small bottle of lavender oil. “A dab on the wrist, can be calming.” Our row smells great as we accelerate into sky space. She is dressed in an American flag sweatshirt. I don’t ask. In this moment, we are sisters in shared anxiety.
I also carry a metaphoric basket: readiness to listen, willingness to change plans, surrender to surprise, capacity to slow down, speed up, discern and prioritize in the moment. I have friends who are sick; I am well so make soup and offer comfort. I have friends who are crying; we hold each other. I enter circles to talk and strategize. I am training with a local activist group to serve as security in demonstrations, record ICE incidents and practice de-escalation techniques. I am calling elected representatives. I am a gray-haired, white-skinned, middle-class American citizen expanding my territory of risk-taking.
I am holding onto the work of getting my book, The Beekeeper’s Question, out to the world because this story of how the townspeople of Pigeon River, Montana get through World War II truly seems to help people find wisdom, courage, and perspective for getting through whatever this turns out to be (WWIII? The Great Turning?). Franklin Cooper, the young soldier character, says in the novel, “What they don’t tell you about history is that when you’re in it, you can’t see how it’s going to turn out.”
The forces at play are huge—then and now. Actions/inactions playing out in our government are destroying societal norms and shifting the global balance among nations. Suffering rises. Injustice accelerates. In the novel, the older country doctor says, “Doctoring isn’t only illness and injury, sometimes people’s stories need healing as much as their bodies. When I come home with a load of secrets and fears, I open (my root cellar) door and slip the new fright in amongst the old. I say a little prayer, get myself up, and carry on.” Doc is my role model for tending the immediate.
There is no easy way through. We will be called to courage, to witness, to action, to holding onto truth and reality. We will have to find ways to deposit our fears and get ourselves up and carry on. I keep stepping out the door of the days. I know you are too. That itself is comfort.
A drumming cadence took over Doc’s heartbeat. She felt the war marching through her old bones. “Sing to the bees, Irish girl,” she whispered. “That’s what we got.”
THE NEXT ZOOM CALL FOR READERS WHO HAVE FINISHED THE BOOK IS MARCH 22: 9:00/Pacific, 10:00/Mountain, 11:00/Central, 12:00/Eastern. The focus will be on the themes of trauma and recovery in the characters and story and how that applies to now.
Stay strong, stay grounded. If trees can grow around the boulder, we can grow through hard times.
Thank you! In my present circumstances this was the perfect thing to read.
Good to hear from you, Fay. Take care and send me some of your great photos.
Thank you, Christina. At 79, I’m inspired to just focus on what is in front of me today (aka care for the bees) and love those Im with in the moment. If I can do that I’m going to make it till tomorrow. Then I’ll do it all over again. Stack a few of those days together and I will make a difference. Oh ya, and remember to smile, laugh and find the surprise and joy in my life.
We’re both there David… I love the idea of stacking the days together. Take care my friend.
Thank you for showing up, being brave, sharing your inspiring self out in the world. ❤️
Flo
Thank you dear, always happy to see your name show up and that you are still “living the journey.”
I’m currently reading your book and expect to be finished well before March 22nd. I’m hoping to join the discussion. We met many years ago on Gabriola Island. You and Ann were leading a circle workshop, which was great. Over the years, I’ve tried to hold the circle. As a Canadian, I share your grief regarding today’s current affairs. We have our own worries here. Some are reeling and unable to even watch the news. I have resolved to resist and be heard. Being a grandmother myself, I understand what’s at stake. Blessings.
Thank you Susan, for helping to bear the grief. And like I said to Sharon, in Ontario, please learn from us– what a horrible example the regime is putting into the world.
Christina, thank you for this pep talk I needed today! The basket, real and as metaphor, spoke to me as a wise approach. And whatever one can carry will be their part for that day.
I love your journal cover collage – so good!
Your words are like handing out tools for the day. I will read this many times, I am sure.
I’m singing to the bees because “that is what we got.”
Looking forward to the next book zoom! I am grateful to you, Christina. Thanks for sharing your basket with all of us hear, with your words that always hold wisdom.
Oooh I like the reminder that we are each holding a piece of the whole. So when in despair, we can remember there’s others to pull us out, and when we’re managing, we can reach into the well and give a hand to others. And we’ll see… Right now it is so hard to calibrate ourselves to endure because we don’t know how long or exactly what we are enduring. That adds to the trauma… and we’re one month in.
The day before yesterday, in a panic composed of worry, fear, dread and feelings of impotence, I sat myself down and began my second reading of The Beekeeper‘s Question, somehow knowing it was what I needed. Hours later, roused by a phone call, I realized that my body, my breath and my quivering insides had all settled into a quiet, steady rhythm again. I finished that reading yesterday, and am intending to recommend the book to my Grandmothers-for-Africa reading group, for later this spring. It is my intention to reread the book at least once a year – and possibly more often, depending on who does what to whom in the wider world. We are almost neighbours, Christina, since I live in Victoria, BC, and heard of you and your work initially through Heather Plett. Grateful for these connections, now going forward. Would love to join your group discussion in March. Thank You for writing this book!
I have you on the zoom link–and a few days before the event it will go live on the blog. It warms my heart deeply that The Beekeeper’s Question is calibrating you at that level–there’s hard stuff in there, too… but I know what you mean. There are scenes in the book I read to calm myself down, love scenes to keep me going, and listening to the bees. I’m going to do a blog on them later this spring when I can go out front and sit in the heather and interview them. Meanwhile–breathing. And please put these kind and meaningful words on the book’s pages–Bookshop, BookClub, etc. Deep gratitude you dear Canadians.
Thank you Christina as always your stories bring clarity to what we can do in these times with so much uncertainty. As a Canadian I am deeply saddened and angry about the perceived broken relationship between our countries. It is grief no different then the passing of a good friend. Our country is awake and preparing for what will come. There is so much I love about the US and I am not alone. I doing my best to stay present and fall into the place of fear. That is what keeps us wobbling. Thank you for sharing what is keeping you grounded as we all move forward. Blessings to you and Ann.
My dear friend, Sharon… It is incredibly hard to comprehend the damage being done here. Political scientist Stathis Kalyvas, Gladstone Professor of Government at Oxford, was quoted in HCR’s column, “There is now total clarity, no matter how unimaginable it may seem. And it amounts to this: The U.S. government has been taken over by a clique of extremists who have embarked on a process of regime change in the world’s oldest democracy… The arrogance on display is staggering. They think their actions will increase U.S. power, but they are in fact wrecking their own country and, in the process everyone else.” I’d say that’s a very educated perspective. So there’s this to contend with… my disappointment in my fellow countrymen who voted this clique into power is so complex, I don’t even know how to explore it. I am grateful for many ordinary people still reaching across the border created by governments. And my greatest hope (despite the German election percentages) is that other countries looking at us/US will realize how harmful this is and go another way. Do not follow us to the right!
I love this. And you have given me a sliver of an idea.Tell you Friday! xoxo
I can hardly wait to hear from your creative mind!
I loved Doc in the book, and I look for the people who can be Docs to me in this life. I look for sources of that kind of grounding and no-frills wisdom, someone who can say, “We will survive, and we will get through this together, and we will treat each other with dignity and kindness. We will help those who are hurting, and even if we don’t make it, we will go out knowing that we did our part—which is all we can do.”
Thank you Sally. I am deeply appreciating your blog posts and the words of wisdom and practice you are contributing. We can all be a little more Doc as we step into our elder wisdom.
I love the question of what is in my basket that I carry into the world every day? thanks for this
Love you, Sara, take care of Sonoma.
Thank you, Christina, for the grounded wisdom you continue to share that moves and inspires me. I am dancing tenderly with the rawness I am feeling, gathering tools (like your basket) and deepening practices that will help sustain me, my chosen family, and community for the marathon ahead of us. Simultaneously I know the power of intention with action and the miracles they produce. I find myself wanting to express myself in new ways, and to continue to strengthen the nest we are building that is still open at the top, just as the mama hummer does every morning as she brings a new dab of spider web to her nest above our back door. (I was so moved by Ann’s telling of your recent hummingbird rescue!). Yes, if mama hummer can do it, so can I/we. I’ll add my gratitude for the expressions of our Canadian sisters and brothers…we will continue to stand strong for each other. Blessings to you and Ann.
So appreciate your comment, Suzanne, and the thoughtful checking in that Ann’s and my blogs elicit. We are little glimmers of light: a small community of the thoughtful and heartbroken… Hard to stay steady when we don’t know how long/how hard/ how much is required. We just get up, look into the basket decide what we need for the day. As I write you, Ann is swimming laps at the club, I am waiting for dawn and our almost daily walk in a huge open area where the dogs run free and the people talk about everything… rising out of our early morning dips into the news stream, back into nature. Feet on the ground. Face in the late winter wind. Garnering love to put into the day.
Oh how I needed this. This past month has been full of both outrage and hope and I’ve experienced it largely from places of safety. This morning I will step out of my comfort zone and into an unpredictable world. I’ll draw on your example as I prepare my own baskets. In my metaphorical bag I’ll take out any lingering judgement to make room for extra patience and compassion. I’ll save some energy for helping rather than hiding. I’ll try to remember the part about how our stories are in need of healing too. Thank you for all the ways you inhabit your own life. Your words, your vision, your energy are all beacons in this dark time.
And oh how I need the photography you provide through your blog–your eye to the wonders around us. Keep looking at the world for me, for us. We are all pieces of a huge mosaic. Some people are breaking it… but others are mending it. Eye to beauty.
Thank you as always for your light, your basket of light that carries so many. I am glad you are still holding call on your book, unfortunately I am leading a retreat that day and will miss the call, but know I am very interested in any future book, Zoom calls. Sending a basket of love your way.
I will be holding zoom calls on the book at least until summer… and then we’ll see what happens this coming year. I am doing a second launch when the audio version comes out. Probably early April.
Love the way you tell a/the/our story, Christina!
As you poets tell us: ” …. we all have a parting shifting the story” (Joy Harjo)
We can shift the story with one kind act, one true word, one long laugh at a time.
Blessings, Pat
Blessings back to you dear Elder. Carry on.
I only met you briefly but could tell you are my people. Thank you so much for your compassion courage and sharing. I think about your book often and was inspired to do a piece of pottery in recognition. See you on the resistance side!
Bonnie Maas
Yes, and so glad you are staying in touch, Bonnie. I would love a picture of the pottery you did in recognition. See you on the resistance side indeed.
Sitting here on the other seacoast after a long day making calls and standing strong in resistance, I’m tired but I didn’t want the day to pass without sending you and Ann much love for your work to help us all braille our way through this morass. We are (still) in this together.
Blessed be,
Meredith
This is exactly how it feels, Meredith: we are brailling our way through… Which means it helps to be OWLs–waking up to our full power.
As so often happens after reading your wisdom, I follow the advice of a former philosophy professor: “Think about that for 10 or 15 years.”
So, I left your words behind for a brief pause, then wove them into the words of others with whom we sojourn in this crazed time…with others to whom I turn to make sense of things of and to become inspired.
A few moments ago, I listened to a brief speech by Kamala Harris: https://youtu.be/pkCoMVnrcIE?si=Nmed0zS0kqc77o23. It seemed to fit within the realm of your words.
I am nervous but I am inspired.
Ah Linda… you are a wise philosopher yourself. And oh thank you for bringing Kamala’s voice back to my ear. I have missed her so much these months, and pray for her true spirit to recover… and her safety. We have been devastated, I can only imagine how she feels. And we are all in the process of fall down… get up… it’s one motion.
Having had an all to brief friendship with Leo as we worked on a board together, I realized that your wisdom came from a long line of wisdom so I was very excited to read The BeeKeeper’s Question. I was unable to put the book down many nights until far too late. I felt that I was learning more about Montana where that my mother grew up. The oldest daughter, she early became the household cook as my grandmother bore four more daughters and her two older brothers worked for nearby farmers. She always said the best part of her young life was the kindness of her aunts and neighbors who would give bits of fabric so she could make dolls and clothes for her younger sisters. She spoke of the kindness of relatives and neighbors who helped the family in the difficult winter weather.
I hope to join the zoom meeting and hope our paths will cross on our Island home.
Cynthia
Oh I love discovering so many folks with Montana connections. I will put you on the zoom link for sure.