Things pile up. Yesterday I recalled my Grandmother’s saying, “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!” That’s what it felt like I’d done, starting with a body chill from cold and gloomy weather, compounded by the daily Trump-punch of headlines: new nuclear arms race begins, POTUS talks steel tariffs, markets dive; students absent as local schools under threat; 150 arrested in immigration sweep, families torn apart; White House communications director, former model with no prior political experience, admits telling “white lies” for President and resigns.
And from the sublime to the ridiculous: Department of Housing and Urban Development head Ben Carson spent $165,000 in furniture for his Washington headquarters, including $31,000 for a dining set in his office. A HUD whistleblower was demoted after she refused to authorize more than the $5,000 furniture limit. Then…here’s me beginning 2018 with a $6/month raise in my Social Security check and an $8/month raise in my Kaiser Medicare supplement insurance bill.
I decided to take a walk—as fast as I could stride for as long as I could—bundled up for a mix of drizzle and sun, hoping to see a rainbow.
Finding an anecdote to discouragement and confusion when a day seems to start off wrong and won’t self correct is a primary survival skill I’ve been working on since “coming down” from the exhilaration of my Hawaii dance competition/tropical vacation experience. With 2018 already into its third month, the question of what’s next? looms.
Let’s assume that eating well, exercising and getting a reasonable amount of sleep is the baseline for well-being. Here’s what I’ve done to improve my outlook: I ventured out to a salsa club for a late night of live music to test my following and connection skills. I attended an Argentine tango workshop to experience new teachers and a new community of dancers. I “gave back to the source of my good” (a prosperity principle) by donating to community-sponsored media and supported a cause I believe in. I reviewed my own history, through sorting photographs and journaling, to discover what has inspired my aliveness in the past.
What I learned is that I am happiest when feeding my inner artist by going on “artist dates” (see Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way). Last weekend, I treated myself to 6th Street Playhouse’s extraordinary production of Equus. Delicious! Perfectly aligned with my quest, a dear friend has instigated the Artistic Women’s Eclectic Salon on Monday Evenings (A.W.E.S.O.M.E.) to offer hours of space and materials at her home for collage- and jewelry-making, painting, drawing, sewing, polishing stones…in other words, exploring all manner of art. We’ll be imitating The Great Mother by acts of creation.
Adding one small step in my commitment to resist (#Not Normal), I have invited my email list to a Peace Potluck and Movie Night at my home. Reviving an activity I started back in 2003 with the U.S. invasion and occupation of Iraq, I will be showing, for as many folks as fit in my living room, a Cinema Libre Studio film, Trumping Democracy: Real Money, Fake News, Your Data.
It seems this morning I got up on the right side of the bed.