Corrosion of chalk, ink on paper, words on paper, chapters, parenthood. Everything gets corroded. You learn everything dies. You learn the air will be filled with smoke from wildfires for the rest of your life. I hear the birds chirping. I sit in my house with my living room door and windows open, not sure if I should have them closed or open, its hot and muggy and Smokey and foggy and cold at the same time. I love my life, I love my family and my dog and my career, and my sign language. All the special moments that make each day so special. I still cry though. I still feel like I’m constantly afraid. I’m first afraid of fires, I feel like my neighborhood could definitely burn, my favorite places, my favorite trees I walk under could be taken away. I can still see burn marks on some of the old redwood trees from a fire. I don’t know how long ago it was, but definitely before any of these 1000’s of houses were built. We had a mudslide on one of the roads almost two years ago that still hasn’t been fixed. The road is impassible. The hillside is owned by two guys who paid a lot but can’t make a dime on the property. When I moved in this house the fire inspector told me, “It’s not if, it’s when” that hillside will burn.
I worry about the pollution and the fish and the Hothouse Effect. I think, if this is really the last century of humans living on earth my kids will see the end. I feel sad for the animals, for the land we sold from them. The forests, the ocean, we took all away and ruined it, we thought that was O.K. Why didn’t we leave more for the other natural inhabitants on the earth? I grapple with this stuff as I listen to the birds and love my life, but my life and my mind feel polluted.
My mind feels polluted by this past year. My chest tightens up when I say that and when I think of all the things I’ve had to endure from just Trump getting elected president. I worry about the sick, corrupt leaders in our world, the bombs they build, the games they play with each other. The pissing contest of some fucked up leaders who need to be gone. I feel traumatized by what’s unfolded since Trump has been elected president.
I’ve been sleeping shitty and drinking too much coffee.
I go back to listening to the birds. I retreat in my special moments, teaching my children about kindness and sharing. About nature and how we need to conserve, recycle, care about people. I retreat to the park or on a hike or at the beach playing with sand or looking at driftwood.
I retreat to my studio. I paint and work and let things go for a while. I listen to the chimes and try not to worry about all the firemen and if its windy today where the fires are. I try to focus on the paper and the paint and the chalk line and just let go. For a moment.