Oh my friends. Here we are. The day before this election unlike any other. This mother election. This life or death election, beneath whose shadow we stand trembling. (Not unlike the oak and beech leaves.)
What do we do in this in-between of today, and tomorrow, and, potentially, the days/week after? Vote, of course. Encourage others to vote, of course. But there is the spirit in need of defending from the onslaught of atrocities, too. It is a tender thing still, if we are lucky. How can we nourish it, provide shelter?
Some essays have God tucked inside them, and Amy Irvine’s essay CLOSE TO THE BONE, in the Fall issue of Orion Magazine, is one of them. It’s the most haunting and complex exploration of meat eating and vegetarianism I’ve read; it’s also a tender story about mothers and daughters; wildness; hunger and the ways we relate to the animal in spirit, body and mind.
“Sometimes animals appear in the liminal, as if emerging from a dream. Everything but night itself is white and swirling, when a dark shape materializes in the middle of an iced road. It’s too late, too slick, to stop—when the animal turns the kiss the headlights of an oncoming car.” Read on…
And in the past few days I read the sublime WHAT ARE YOU GOING THROUGH by Sigrid Nunez. This one had a slow entrance ramp for me. I adored/devoured her last book, THE FRIEND, and was prepared to be swept off my feet in the same way. Instead I walked alongside her, curious but not enthralled, for quite a few pages (112 to be exact), until the book settled, and the story truly began. And then she got me—this beautiful and quiet ode to friendship, the surprising ones, and this meditation on death and on climate change (and how the two are linked), and on language and narrative, and on this moment in time, and on the ubiquity of human suffering. The title is a translation of Simone Weil’s line, Quel est ton tourment? and this book is a keen and gentle reminder of our collection breaking hearts in this moment in time, our collective despair, our collective traumas, and of the simple power of Love and Presence amidst this emotional squal. It’s a reminder of the power of reaching out, like John Prine in his magnum opus “Hello in there.” A reminder to check in on our neighbors and friends today and tomorrow and the next day, to knock on the door or send a text and ask, What are you going through?
Then there is music. Good music feeds and uplifts, opens the cracks, fills in the cracks, unravels and then stitches me back together, when lucky, during the course of one song. My most recent listening obsession (salvation) is Adrianne Lenker. You can read all about her in Amanda Petrusich’s piece in the New Yorker. Or just listen. Here’s a tease. Doesn’t it sound like God lurking between the trees, i.e., November?
Be gentle with yourself. I’ll see you on the other side.
xx
Robin