living | Playing for Time

Slouching toward the promised land…

13 Feb 2025 Leave a comment

***

It’s winter. It snowed again. It’s cold. There, you’re all caught up.

Soooo, yeah, what a long strange year it’s been, all 44 days of it, and this morning dawned cold and crinkly once again. The sun is blindingly bright on the snow and it’s 6° as I write… one of those days that looks positively balmy until you step outside and freeze your nose hairs.

As the world beyond the weather grows increasingly frigid, and as I continue to process recent and ongoing events, I’ve realized this morning that my prevailing emotion at this point is not fear but disappointment. Like the Pollyanna I’ve always been, I’d held out hope for at least a pause in the hostilities, a willingness to see each other as people again, to make room for kindness first of all, but it wasn’t to be. Our candidates were too happy, they both laughed too much, and you can see how that would be so wrong for the country.

Nearly every generation thinks we’ve arrived at The End on their watch, but so far it’s been nothing but false alarms. We’re a piteous species in that we no more get something figured out than we feel compelled to sabotage that in some way. Always two steps forward, one step back. Sooooo slow, the progress, it’s almost possible to observe evolution in real time.

In lieu of a softer world I’m cushioning my own with books and music, good food and good company, all the things that matter and over which I hold some slight sway. Keep the goals reachable. Whatever makes you a happier human, DO IT. Live your life, it’s the one that’s happening NOW.

Image by Judy Smith

It’s not complicated…

24 Jan 2025 1 Comment

***

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On light and hope…

19 Jan 2025 Leave a comment

***

Boys and girls, I promised you a Pollyanna post before tomorrow, so stand by for a test revealing whether or not I can produce one. In truth, it’s simple: think positive thoughts and write them down. Got it.

I’m positive that after tomorrow life will change, so be ready for anything, good or bad. Don’t let the good pass you by while you’re focused on the scary stuff.

I’m positive, and have proven it to be true, that we don’t have to immerse ourselves in “what’s happening” every living second of our lives, and equally positive that it’s damaging to do so. I hopped off the TV news merry-go-round months ago because I can be far more selective and equally freaked out by reading the daily feed instead of watching it. In addition, I’m positive my daily perusal is overkill.

In the cockamamie world we woke up to, I’m positive that the following is factual:

I’m positive that the world can someday get itself right-side up again so imma hide and watch. Since I’m no help, at the very least I can choose not be a hindrance.

Whew! What a relief.

I’m not voluntarily going anywhere and I hope you won’t either.

Image by Judy Smith

Tick, tock…

14 Jan 2025 Leave a comment

***

Yesterday we had a week’s grace before the apocalypse hits, this morning we’re down to six days. Then five, then four… and we’ll finally arrive at Day One, being billed as the greatest day in human history, hosted by CF47, gonna be lit! The entire world waits and watches.

Christmas already feels like it came and went long months ago without making a ripple in the fabric of society. As a nation, we achieved the full measure of hypocrisy during this past season, simply by pretending to celebrate something we don’t actually believe in, as evidenced by our actions.

CF47 has said the deportations will begin on Day One.

And because we’re not going to bow down to not only a dictator, but his racist apartheid insane sidekick, who seems to have appointed himself King of the Known World.

So on we go, hoping this isn’t the end of life as we’ve known it, doing what we can to preserve “truth, justice, and the American way” and against all odds, I must add.

We have… maybe… one more week of relative peace before the storm. Gird your loins and other parts, kids.

I’m old enough to remember when people cared about each other and life wasn’t entirely transactional. We may or may not ever see that vibe again, but living felt a little more fair, considerably sweeter, and we had a sixth sense as to whom we could trust. Someday, CF47 and all who bow to him will be gone, but we’ll never forget what he’s done to destroy our lives, and what people we respected did to facilitate that debacle. Trust, once squandered, is a total bitch to recover because of all it entails. People thought one thing, were told one thing, wanted one thing, and entirely different things happened. We’re being told to live with the untenable, the implausible, the preposterous and unthinkable, and it’s a psychic stretch we’ve likely not had to pull off until now.

Whatever’s coming… the things we hold no sway over… it’s on us to find a way to survive because of course. Simply by existing, we cheat the oligarchs out of pennies and crumbs we have no right to subsist on. My question becomes: Are they planning to implement indentured servitude in order for their laundry to be done, their mansions cleaned, and prime food delivered hot and plentiful to their mouths? And if not, will it be robots doing those things?

It matters not how it all happens, we’ll eventually bow the knee when we get hungry enough. The Rule Book, Project 2025, has been written and published, so they’ll say we knew what was expected of us and therefore deserve whatever punishment is meted out. I still want to live to at least 95, but not in THAT world.

There are so many people I miss, but I don’t entertain thoughts of that changing because it feels like we’re past that point. Love and friendship require trust and respect. And sadly, that’s the end of the story.

Come back tomorrow for a Pollyanna happy-post. Had to purge my psyche so I can keep being real with you and me.

Image by Judy Smith

Ah yes, the New Year…

31 Dec 2024 Leave a comment

***

This morning, because her words reached me and are doing their intended work, I’m borrowing from Rachel Alana (R.A Falconer), Midwives of the Soul, with deep appreciation for her gift.

~ This year, dear friends, may we all lose weight!

The weight of expectations. The weight of self-criticism. The weight of disconnect that fills us with a deeper hunger. The weight of not always loving. The weight of a worn and weary world. Of not always accepting, seeing, and inhabiting this precious and sacred body that we’re in.

~ This year, dear friends, may we all exercise!

…our holy will! Our sacred sense of purpose. Our vision and hard-earned wisdom. Our discernment and our shining hearts. In ways that enrich connections, with our bodies, our souls and those we love. And even to the world.

~ This year, ah yes… may we all start the work of quitting…

…that collective Kool-Aid. The negative self-talk. The small-assed living. That cacophony of cockatoo-voices that drown out our souls. And old habits: Those used to stop us hearing our pain, our disappointments, and all things much better loved, seen and accepted right down to the very bottom ~ and to find true freedom, through a connection with our deepest souls.

And…

~ This fine new year, (well, here’s the best…) May we all be rich!

Yes, utterly and completely rich. Wildly and unapologetically. Rich in love. Life. Connection with one another and all that really matters. Filled to the brim and bubbling over; more again and spilling over that. Full of laughter, acceptance, joy, and less of worry. Less of sorrow ~

Rich in renewed experience, of a whole new year!

Happy 2025, dear friends!

~Rachel Alana (R.A Falconer)

Midwives of the Soul

Image by Judy Smith

Fractured fairytales…

27 Dec 2024 1 Comment

***

Once upon a time, strange as it may sound, Christmas happened in a world that wasn’t ready for it, making things discombobulated and odd from the start of the season. Planet LOOK.AT.US. was out of sorts and feeling aloof from the whole affair. Things were not right in the kingdom and no one knew how to fix it. Such a different holiday it was shaping up to be, with far too much sadness in the mix.

But wait… since the task of Christmas is to lighten hearts and gladden the soul, I must give you, instead, the story of The Four Farmer’s Daughters… have you heard this one? Get another cup of coffee and pull up a chair, it goes like this:

Long ago, in a previous century, four daughters were born. Two sets of sisters, farm girls all. After high school came the usual endeavors that send people their separate ways… college, extensive travel, careers, partners, children, life. Circumstance and the passage of time eventually conspired to bring the four together again some years into this century, hours spent realizing how alike they are in their world view and code of living.

These four women, now mostly past 70, have not lost touch since, and won’t. In the midst of this barren-feeling lonesome Christmas season, everybody listened to their inner angel and they spent hours… again… sharing food and conversation and knowing nothing’s changed. Oh, out there in the world, everything’s changed, but real friends don’t. That’s a supreme gift to open, one that makes everything seem possible. Keep it real in 2025.

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We were festive…

26 Dec 2024 2 Comments

Just not THIS festive.

***

Christmas Day this year was sweet and special in too many ways to list, but you know I’ll try. It’s hard to sort out what the whole thing is about for me now, but what remains… always… from the past and forever… is the love. It’s entirely a feel-good day if we can do it right.

Rita was here, she and I wore our Christmas jammies, the Chiefs won, and dinner was amazing.

The traditional cheese ball I hadn’t made in 30 years. The recipe holds up.

Salmon filets in cream sauce with spinach and cherry tomatoes over Jasmine rice; candied carrots, and cheesy biscuits. And vino. Dessert was warm fruit tarts with ice cream.

The usual suspects.

Today we’re being hugged by a heavy fog and indoors is where it’s at. Perfect.

Let quiet and peace soak into your bones, and savor every blessing.

Image by Judy Smith

Let the light always remind us…

21 Dec 2024 Leave a comment

***

… that the sun will soon return.

***

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Things that matter…

27 Nov 2024 Leave a comment

***

Holidays are hard. There… I said it. As kids we rarely pick up on the nuances of family gatherings, we’re just there to see our cousins and eat fun stuff. And then life changes, as it is wont to do, and we learn how to celebrate on a different scale, how to hold room for our memories and feelings, how to appreciate everything. It’s a lot.

Some years ago we stopped trying to live up to the noisy food-laden holidays of yore and brought the house down a little with simple, and simply wonderful, comfort food, the National Dog Show, football, the chill weather, and much laughter. So as it turns out life is in great part about taming expectations. Kim and Rita cook and bicker in the kitchen while I keep myself available for mindless tasks, and behold, a luscious meal appears. It works seamlessly, and we’re appropriately thankful for various things all day, no stress required. I love it. The mood couldn’t be more comfortable.

Still. Our hearts remember the old times, and we think of them as having been magical… everybody happy and full of love, hugs all around, nothing but peace and goodwill. With everything hanging in the balance this year, we yearn for the unity and unconditional love we think we remember, and we try to go back to a place that was never really there… kind of like Brigadoon. Silly us.

If you’re still with me, thank you for indulging this minor fit of melancholy, which I shall now attempt to put back in the box with the double-secret code on the lock. Nobody needs that stuff on a day we’re just grateful to spend together, alive and well, so tomorrow will be about the right-now, the life we have, and the people we love.

I wish the same for you, complete with everything you need.

Image by Judy Smith

Waiting for Godot, aka the other shoe…

21 Nov 2024 1 Comment

***

The calendar says we’re more than two weeks out since the election but there’s no way my brain could have told me that on its own because the markers have been few and far between. It’s always unsettling to sail through a state of limbo, precisely because of the inherent uncertainty. Also, the relative quiet compared to previous experiences with the former guy feels, may I say, a little ominous. We’re watching the potential for chaos build by the day with each nomination to what resembles a junk drawer more than a presidential cabinet, and we see plenty of concern to be had, but since we are simply the embodiment of “the vermin within” our input has neither been sought, nor will it. Our task is to survive bodily and to handle the changes as they come at us. None of us know yet how swiftly or drastically those changes will be implemented; therefore, limbo. I can’t decide whether to keep trying to make the world a better place, or look for a safe vantage point while we watch the drama unfold.

I had hoped the following from Rod Serling in 1964 was true:

We dared to entertain brave hopes of a nation once again united… but were we EVER that? I think not.

It’ll make the happiest of old ladies grumpy.

Things we know at this auspicious point in time:

Our daily reality as Americans will most likely look very different this time next year, and I’m pretty sure the general population is in no way prepared.

Unfortunately, the country seems to have cornered the market on denial, so actual communication among factions is still at a premium. For nine years we’ve waited for his day to be done, waited to be free of his voice and leering mugshots, waited for him to disappear from our TV screens. Instead, this is life for the next four years, and maybe ’til I die, which pisses me off beyond words, as does THIS:

How dare woman-bots malfunction?! And then proceed to destroy civilizations, more’s the pity. I’m surprised we’re allowed to drive cars and raise the babies we birth. Now that I think of it, we could easily lose both of those rights before it’s over. Best to remain philosophical, right?

Image by Judy Smith

It’s fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine…

08 Nov 2024 Leave a comment

***

There’s still much to process so it’s really lame that my processor is on the fritz this week. Heart says “address this stuff,” brain says “let’s do another iPad painting.” I would describe myself today as uncomfortably numb.

It’s funny, I almost feel worse for the rest of the civilized world than for the U.S. population. We’ve been busy screwing things up, all the while they’ve continued to think we knew what we were doing. Surprise!

Don’t we all.

Some perspective:

It only happens to “lesser societies,” right?

Sometimes communication with people we care about suffers, not because we hate them but because we’ve made each other feel that the other doesn’t really matter, a sorry human trait.

So here we are. What was to have been a healing interval in American history will instead be an unsettling exercise in survival as a nation and as a population. The Reagan-era fascists hung in there like dogs, faithfully passing the torch to each new set of believers and simultaneously tearing away at the foundations of democracy until the Golden Goose of New York City fell into their hands, after which it was simply a matter of time. America won’t have to wait long before the effects start to show up; therefore, I’m leaving this here for posterity so we can all reminisce later:

Something that has to be said:

Don’t bother asking WWJD. Nobody knows.

In the end…

Image by Judy Smith

Into the long, dark night…

07 Nov 2024 Leave a comment

***

ACCEPTANCE

by Robert Frost

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud

And goes down burning into the gulf below,

No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud

At what has happened. Birds, at least, must know

It is the change to darkness in the sky.

Murmuring something quiet in its breast,

One bird begins to close a faded eye;

Or overtaken too far from its nest,

Hurrying low above the grove, some waif

Swoops just in time to his remembered tree.

At most he thinks or twitters softly, “Safe!

Now let the night be dark for all of me.

Let the night be too dark for me to see

Into the future. Let what will be be.”

Image by Judy Smith

And just like that…

04 Nov 2024 Leave a comment

***

Merry Election Eve, boys and girls, we’re finally almost there after a long tedious slog, but I must say this feels like the opposite of preChristmas excitement and more like existential dread. When the incident pictured below happened nine years ago that should have been the end of it. Instead it was the start of a continuous succession of unPresidential shenanigans, by which I mean crimes. He’s always showed us exactly who he is. Can we be done now, and will the tattered threads of democracy still hold?

Since the day the polls opened here I’ve been antsy to vote early, but for once in my life tradition constrains me. Our official polling place is in the historic old Cider Gallery, now an art museum and event venue, so it always feels appropriately weighty to exercise our citizenship there, followed by breakfast at The Roost and maybe a Bloody Mary to mark the occasion. And then if all goes well, we’ll be on our balcony tomorrow night making noise.

The Cider Gallery

It feels like an eternity has passed since November 8, 2016, a date that truly will live in infamy. The events of that day, and all the ones to follow, have altered life for every soul within our shores, and ended the lives of over a million during the COVID peak. No quarter has been left untouched, no person unchanged. We’ve come close to losing everything that matters… and for no valid reason other than ego. Can we step back from the abyss now and come home to reality? Together somehow?

We’re tired. Exhausted from the effort required to hold it together for ourselves and everyone around us. We need peace and rest as a nation while we try learning to trust each other again. I hope we all find safe harbor.

Image by Judy Smith

Patience & time are powerful warriors…

25 Oct 2024 1 Comment

***

How many times in your life have you hit cycles that required you to wait, and wait… and wait… sometimes for decades. And at no point during the wait did you know how it would all turn out. That’s the trick, being ready no matter what happens. Prepared, if necessary, to leave everything you’ve known and loved, for almost 80 years in my case, trusting that life will go on, as it always does.

“All of the sudden,” the wait is nearly at an end, and it almost doesn’t seem real that after everything that’s happened over the past nine or ten years we’re within two weeks of knowing our fate as a nation. Less than two weeks to settle the basic question: Will we be a dictator-run oligarchy or a democratic republic?

Every part of who we are as Americans hinges on this election. We can’t erase what has happened, so what we stand up for NOW is who we will be going forward. The world is standing by, watching anxiously to see what will happen here. Will we still represent hope, or be counted among the rubble fascism always leaves in its wake? Just another domino in a succession of fallen nations with lofty ideals. How heartbreaking! Are people really willing to let us end that way?

Where every conflict starts.

Image by Judy Smith

The way we look to a distant constellation…

18 Oct 2024 2 Comments

***

You know… if we hang around long enough in life it’s possible to learn a lot and pick up crucial perspective in the process. Some of the lessons are painfully, embarrassingly slow… some hit us between the eyes and demand immediate remedy. Life isn’t always a supreme challenge, but I admit to being shocked by how consistently it’s the same ol’ stuff over and over ad infinitum. This year has brought a succession of skin cancer surgeries, the most recent of which is still receiving scar therapy from the comforts of home. Other physical taunts, presumably related to the aging structure inside this skin suit, have raised their cheeky cries for attention to such an extent that I’m getting used to them, while not thrilled by their existence.

I’ve recently been reminded that some twenty-five years or more ago I watched my dad’s first cataract surgery on closed-circuit TV in Garden City, Kansas, with pioneer in the field Dr. Luther Fry, whose techniques at the time were cutting edge.

This week it was my turn and the technology has only improved by leaps and bounds since my experience with my dad. One eye down, second next week, followed by weeks of light therapy to fine-tune my vision. Meanwhile, until at least past Christmas, it’s my job to keep sunlight from invading my eyeballs, which in a 4th-floor loft with top-to-bottom east-facing windows is a challenge. The wooden blinds leave lots of leeway for sunshine, so until the sun makes it past the peak of our building every morning I’m schlepping around in here in my Official Old Person Post-Surgical Giant Black Glasses. I know Karma when I see it so I’m sure this is payback for all the times my friends and I giggled about the sweet lil’ oldies in their Double-Secret Agent glasses, but this seems a little excessive since our intentions were pure.

Everything feels slightly discombobulated at present, which will pass. The operative eye is nearly clear 3rd day post-op, but I’m caught between glasses and no glasses, so neither eye is 100% at the moment. Stuff that lands on the floor has to stay there unless I want to do deep-knee bends, which would no doubt benefit my skeleton. There’s laundry waiting to be folded, and my desk is looking very lived-in, but I can’t be bothered. I’ll get to it all when the disorientation fades a little more.

Our eyes and the rest of our senses are too precious for words, as are the brilliant dedicated people who help us keep them for as long as possible, which prompts an astounding realization: Somehow we humans have managed over eons to fashion a world that’s more good than bad, more joy than sorrow, more sweet than sour. Mostly. Sort of. Anyway, all things considered, it’s a place I’m not pining to leave, and I’m looking forward to seeing everything these eyes have been missing along the way lately.

Okay, having reached my max word-count on NICE, here’s this…

Truth.

Image by Judy Smith

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Playing for Time

Let the light always remind us…

Judy Smith

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ALL the stuff …

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These people know better but they read my blog anyway.

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Were you looking for …

I choose favorites …

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