I have been burrowing deep into my nonfiction reading. I am learning distressing stuff about America and the people who lived here before the colonial settlers. I am learning distressing stuff about how white people appropriated ceremonial dress and thoughts for their little civic rituals while at the same time spreading genocidal actions against natives. I am learning from native people resiliently living now in this moment and staying connected to a tradition I don’t know enough about. I am learning how vast the history of this side of the world is and how it has been distorted in the stories we tell ourselves about it.

Also continuing to read The 1619 Project and learning more about the hidden history of the connection and repression of people descended from slaves in our country.

In addition I have been learning more about recent history in Russia and following the rape of Ukraine in real time.

This morning after my usual routine of exercising and making coffee for me and tea for Eileen when I sat down to read I found myself reaching for poetry. It’s afternoon and all I have read all day is poetry. It’s not exactly a palliative because I prefer most of my poetry to be disturbing but it helps me see how easy it is to be sucked into examining terrible stuff in our history.

This morning I especially enjoyed reading in Victoria Chang’s book of poems, Obit. My friend Rhonda gave it to me and I have read some in it. This morning it seemed to be exactly what I needed and enticed me to pick up other books of poetry sitting around that I read in occasionally including issues of my subscription of the magazine Poetry.

I have to reiterate here my gratitude for how my life is going and for friends like Rhonda who sent me a very encouraging text recently in which she said she knew I was moving in a different direction these days. Thank you, Rhonda! Life is good.

It seems like a good day to end with a poem.

Peripheral

BY HANNAH EMERSON
Yes I prefer the peripheral
because it limits the vision.

It does focus my attention.
Direct looking just is too

much killing of the moment.
Looking oblique littles

the moment into many
helpful moments.

Moment moment moment
moment keep in the moment.
Source: Poetry (March 2022)

[N.B. This blog was pre-approved by Eileen]

Eileen and I have spent the last couple of days staying calm but a bit frightened. Eileen had her regular mammogram on Monday. She came home unperturbed but a few hours later there was a call with the disconcerting news that she had to return the next day for another try. There was something odd in the first one that required another look and possibly an ultrasound.

Neither of us slept very well that night. But after the next appointment she came home to tell me that they had found a non malignant cyst. No action needed.

So while war rages in Ukraine, Eileen and I were very grateful that we had dodged that particular bullet. Eileen confessed to me later that what she had dreaded was not so much a cancer diagnosis but the eventual treatment which is often as bad if not worse than the disease.

I finished Gessen’s The Man Without a Face: The Unlikely Rise of Vladimir Putin a few minutes ago. I wanted to read it as quickly as possible during the Russian invasion of Ukraine. I am already of a fan of Gessen’s work and am planning next to read her book, The Future is History: How Totalitarianism Reclaimed Russia. It’s sitting on my shelves.

Eileen signed up for a online three day weaving workshop. I think it has helped distract her a bit.

The Biden Administration Killed America’s Collective Pandemic Approach

The headline on this article did not blame the Biden Administration for this otherwise I probably wouldn’t have clicked on the link. I find it dumb to keep blaming the president for stuff. But this is a good article.