The cat cleans herself next to me. It soothes me. Her tiny silky skull, her pink tongue, the soft grays and creams and orange of her fur. It soothes me to know that she is unaware of the foibles of humans. She can't read the news, or understand the images on the screen. All she knows is that it is time to clean, or time to nap, or time to eat, or time for affection, or time to play fetch, or time to stretch lazily in a patch of sunlight.
She blinks at me when she is done, curls herself alongside my thigh, and sighs once deeply.
Obviously this is not a photo of a cat curled up sighing and sleeping. I pulled it from the archives so as to preserve the present moment as it is.
I've taken to sketching again, something I've not done on a regular basis since high school. I didn't know where to start so I returned to a childhood favorite, Dorrie the Little Witch. Here's the results of my first pass.
Despite all the cold, we did manage to plant a few things in the ground.
These are the things I've been doing to stay grounded and sane despite the media onslaught of bad news these days. This is how I unplug.
A friend shared this song with me today. Songs are poetry too, so apropos for this month's theme in honor of National Poetry Month, and apropos to the news and my mood about it. Also, it's from the "dystopian folk opera" Hadestown by Anais Mitchell (a Vermont native).
There is so much awesome in that last sentence that I'll just stop there and let you listen to the song:
Your word this week, my dear word-nerdlings, is:
Do something radical and brave with it. Even if it's to write your first 100 words.