This is the last night of Safe Space. I feel guilty about it although I have no added responsibility to have it be any different than it is. 50 homeless people go back out into the uncertainty of street life after winter shelter ends. So what? It hurts is what. I care about many of these people as individuals. I get their quirks and snatches of their stories. They show up inside my heart like friends do even if I’m not sure we are friends. It hurts me to think of them suffering or in danger. It angers me that we have nothing more to offer. It seems we have built something.. maybe it is paternalistic and not always so smooth sailing but it has worked. Now, back to square one.. Nameless, faceless homeless. It just is not right!!!!
There are two more things bothering me. One is another helplessness thing… the situation in Syria. Everyone but the Syrians themselves are bad guys to me. One segment of the Left supports Russia and Assad against the US, the mainstream media supports the US, Turkey, Saudi Arabia… I think they all have so much blood on their hands they are slippery and stained with it. One hundred years ago it was the Armenians.. millions. Now I don’t know if this is ethnic cleansing or just plain proxy wars but the suffering is so vast my mind shorts out at the scope of it. I am restless and trying to pull against the weight of the suffering but it is getting me down even as I realize it is not my own and perhaps I can’t do much about it. What are we supposed to do though? What about our moral responsibility to control our own nation state?
Oh yes, we Beale “trespassers” have warrants to be back in court again on March 8th, International Women’s Day. Oh yes, I’ll be back on the phone on Monday about Syria and back at Beale demonstrating against the drones which are a big part of the inhumanity.
Today I went to a Celebration of Life for Fran Farley. I saw him in winter when he was at Farmer’s Market with a walker. He seemed as personable as ever but definitely fragile. He died in December. I don’t know from what. At 92 you don’t really need a reason. Today I hugged his wife Juanita and she was just bones. She said, “I keep remembering what you said and now I know.” What the hell did I say? The power of words to move from person to person even as they leave the mouth of the speaker forever… That poor woman. 62 years of marriage. All I could write to her in the card I sent was something stupid like don’t forget to breathe… nothing means anything anymore. What is automatic is foreign. What meant something is flat and devoid of meaning. It is such a stark and odd landscape. Fran stands out in his livingness. In his goodness. Poor Juanita to be left behind in his wake. I assume it is good to have three kids and seven grand-kids. I hope so.
I know I’ve written a lot today about things I express that I can’t stand or that pain me emotionally. Yet here I am. If I tune in to myself the tension and sorrow are all in my head and chest. I had a beautiful day. The day was beautiful and I was in it and one with it. It started off early at Safe Space loving on those people, then Selkie and I walked with one of the other volunteers in Upper Park, then I went to our satisfying Farmers market cornucopia then home to do planting of succulent and iris transplants and calla lily bulbs. I took this gorgeous blossom photo at sunset. Soon I’ll leave for a Cuba Benefit. I think I write out of emotional pain but have to remind myself that that is not all I am or all I feel. Somewhere in me there is balance and I just need to find and maintain it as all these things come to their own conclusions, I know that looking back on all the other awful things that I lived through and railed against in the past. My suffering is only the world banging around in my rather vacated mind. I can let go, fight, or both. The words are just something it helps me to say/write, so Thank you, don’t worry about me on top of other burdens you might carry.