Opt in or opt out

Right now, in every moment, all the time, I remind myself to "opt in or opt out."

Because nothing is happening to me.

Because I have choice. Always.

I remember that the choices that I think I want usually won't make me happy. The choices in front of me are choices. If I operate from fear my reality will be based in that anxiety. If I operate from power my reality will be based in that agency.

I always want there to be patterns because I want there to be order. Maybe there is. Maybe there isn't.

I've written a bit about the pieces of the presidential election that surprised me and the parts that did not surprise me. I didn't expect to hear so many people say, "I have given my power away again and again. The election of trump reminds me that I can't do that. I will not do that. I am responsible for myself."

And I think that's the mantra. That's it.

We are responsible for ourselves and we are accountable to one another.

We can be incredibly creative with the cards that we are dealt. We can withdraw our power from the usual systems. We can align our energy. We can make old structures obsolete. We can live.

Gathering some words from the old year

I'm feeling very much a part of a vigorous, quick-moving flow and I'm also trying to stand steady within the movement.

I cleaned up a lot in 2016. I'm still watching it all.

And I'm still working.

When I graduated high school I was invited to read a poem at the graduation ceremony. I chose "I am a work in progress" by jessica care moore. I still remember the last line, "i am not finished yet."

I won't be.

I'm going through a notebook. I found some poem scraps jotted down during the precious few days in the West Virginia cabin. Here they are.

living is hungry
it's best when it's a little uncomfortable
a little cold
gritty
relief is best sudden
and unexpected
(like breeze or rain)
no time to anticipate or
question
just blown about
wondering
open mouthed
wide eyed


"Home"

swept floors
wood smooth
open windows
with screens for breeze
running water-- hot and cold--
cats, a few, healthy & playful
orderly cupboards
folded quilts in a closet
bills paid
hooks for the keys
herbs grow
fruit trees too
small scale world
microclimates
known
still intriguing


clean dishrags flats on the line
a cardinal passes above
with her my grandmother
her rose glass her love of
cardinals her memory a bird
a storm is coming
phillips glass playing. it sounds
like water tumbling and
threatening
the cats are assembled 
throughout the room
maurice on the wood floor
george on the bed
an open novel on Frank
Lloyd Wright
a skipping song