Where Do You Feel Things?

Where do you feel things? A glimpse of amazing beauty, whether in my front yard or some distant landscape, engenders an opening and warmth . . . sometimes behind my forehead, sometimes across my chest. 

Destruction of a once pristine landscape or a car wreck squeezes and contorts my innards. 

I almost always feel fear in my vagina. I guess there’s a reason for that – the fear thing. All you have to do is read the newspaper. Back when I was young and desirable, I too received unwanted fondling, even unwelcomed intimacy. 

There are other emotions – like sorrow or regret – that roll over me in deep blue waves. Like awareness of cruel deaths – refugees, homeless, transgender people and the hundreds ‘mowed down’ in mass shootings. 

And ignorant decisions about guns, or the climate, or elephants bring tears to my throat (and anger to my brain). 

And just plain sadness can encompass me when someone like Charlie Rose turns out to be just a fallible as the rest of his gender. 

How do I counter these things? By standing in a community working for the dignity of all people. Or petting my aged cat. Or holding the hand of a child. Or, sometimes, eating chocolate. Do others do this? Where is your pain? Where is your joy?

All Hail Last Blooms

Poking up from the last fallen leaves – a snapdragon. 

In the porch pot now devoid of marigolds – a pansy. 

And even in the crusty remains of our first snow – more pansies. 

All hail, brave and stubborn flora! Thank you for sticking around and sticking up. I write this blog to honor your tenacity and color. You will not be forgotten.