Our beautiful yard looks like a matted dog who had surgery and now has bald spots. California is in a drought, so we are not allowed to water appropriately. It's at least 112 daily, with a heat warning for the next ten days. Our rose bushes are dying a slow death, and our lush curb appeal yard is dead for now. (Naturally, the city will not pay us to re-sod this joint, so we'll probably throw some seed down in winter and hope for the best.) Oh, and 5,000 acres are burning ten miles from our house. The sky is raining ash in our yard.
Everything you see that looks like clouds are actually smoke. I snapped this photo while getting gas. The strange mix of green, pink, blue, purple, and grey struck me as I prayed for hundreds of firefighters and people evacuating. How odd to watch creation on fire while pumping gas and talking to my daughter.
What is life on Earth if not heaven persisting?
Celebration and sorrow; anger and joy; loneliness and connectedness; beauty and pain. The strange experiences we hold in a day as human beings are disorienting; it's also what makes us human. We get sold a bill of goods that we can achieve some Nirvana, some Utopia where we can outsmart life. Who can stop a wildfire from raging? Who can keep diseases from striking close to home? Who is smart enough to love people who don't turn into lunatics sometimes? Who is never at risk of losing it all? Who can control every outcome? No one. Not even one.
But we're still here. Making the most of life.
I'm proud of you. I'm proud of us. I’m reminded of Mary Oliver’s poem, The Summer Day1. She writes this in the second half:
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention,
how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?
“Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?”
Here's what I'm learning: Life is going to life, so choose to live it. Expect good things.
My head is a collection of dystopian perspectives. At least once a year, I say to my husband, "I'm so glad I can cook potatoes in so many ways. They can grow in terrible conditions, so we'll be ready." I am also prone to say, "Enjoy those long, hot showers while you can." He rolls his eyes because he's a normal person, but the truth is, I'm under no illusions that life will always be what it is. Things might get better; they might get worse. We are living spirits with skin on, and Earth requires an existence that is both beautiful and brutal at once. Nayyirah Waheed2 writes in Salt:
“i don't pay attention to the
world ending.
it has ended for me
many times
and began again in the morning.”
Instead of making me feel afraid, these truths about life make me brave. We are more powerful than we know and together, all the more spectacular. And you know what, when you deal in reality, you deal in hope.
Hope expects good things.
My entire life feels like someone hosed me down to near death, put me on the potter's wheel, turned me into a mound, and started over from scratch. Molding, shaping, reshaping, centering, strengthening - I'm not exactly sure what's happening, but my answer is yes. And I expect good things. At the midpoint of my life, I can confidently say that when things trend down, they also trend up.
Heaven persists in the middle of hell.
We're celebrating my husband's 42nd birthday this week, a friend's baby shower, and our oldest turning eight. We celebrate with a fire raging just north, concerning situations in our community and necessary decisions on our plate. (Sometimes, we celebrate pathetically, as is the case for all birthdays after 40.) Hope is hard won. But we must surrender to it, imagine the future together, and expect good things.
With love and solidarity,
Ashley
P.S. Happy Birthday to my second book, Love Is the Resistance. My body is remembering how I crawled over the finish line last year. I love to write and I loathe to launch, but I’m so proud of every word. If you haven’t picked up a copy, I’d be honored for you to read!
P.P.S. I love y’all. This is my favorite internet neighborhood.
https://www.loc.gov/programs/poetry-and-literature/poet-laureate/poet-laureate-projects/poetry-180/all-poems/item/poetry-180-133/the-summer-day/
https://www.nayyirahwaheed.com/
LOVE this: "Molding, shaping, reshaping, centering, strengthening - I'm not exactly sure what's happening, but my answer is yes." Thanks for the hope, Ashley.