WARNING: there is a picture of my breast in this post. DO NOT OPEN if you think or know you will be offended at seeing my bare breast.
You know how you can tell when I am doing well? I don’t write.
And when you ask me how I am doing, I say something like “I am really, really good.” Then there is this long silence—an awkward pause between us—the part where I would normally dish about how busy or tired or crappy my life/house/job/marriage is, but I can’t, so I don’t. My life, is GOOD. Then the news on the vote on Amendment 1 in NC comes in.
Reading the feeds this morning I felt my muse creep up on my shoulder and whisper in my ear “write something, say SOMEthing, because a whole bunch of jerks halfway across the country just voted on an amendment to their constitution, which is YOUR constitution because we all belong to each other, writing into law their narrow-minded crappy definition of marriage, and it sucks. You could say something clever and witty, scathing and mean; you could get this feeling of anger, disappointment, hurt, rage, guffawing and eyerolling off your Wild Things Maurice Sendak grieving chest.”
This morning I reached out to read the feeds to join my friends in grief and hurt, outrage and loss. But you know what I got? THIS, from my friend and boss:
FB wants to know what is on my mind. Well, I wanted to rant about the poor decision made on the part of North Carolina. But instead, I would like to spread some positive energy and tell you about a very important person in my life. Her name is Rachel Swan and she is our beloved GM at Pizzeria Lola. Hiring her has been integral to our success and quite possibly the most sound decision I’ve made as a business owner. But more importantly, I am honored and fortunate to call her my friend. Thank you, Rachel for being you.
You know what? THIS is who I want to be.
Of course I am angry, and hurt, and yes, I am totally rolling my eyes at YOU, supporters of the amendment in North Carolina. But you know what else I am? Happy. Loved. Supported. Married.
I have a tattoo of Max and the Wild Things on my chest, and yesterday I found myself looking at it all day. I was caught between feeling grief and joy. I’ve carried my mom, her voice and spirit on my chest, next to my heart. We used to have this amazing ritual; we’d read Where the Wild Things Are (or Mickey and the Night Kitchen or Chicken Soup with Rice or Higglety Piggelty Pop!) every night before bed. These memories are my joy, my happy place. Maurice and mom, both full of light AND darkness. Both having lived and now, died. My muse shows up in these hurting dark places, urging me to write.
Today I write anyway, living fully into both spaces, but leaning towards joy. Its not pithy or clever, it just is what it is. I am grateful for all those around me who remind me life life IS beautiful, and defeat, death and darkness will not, can not have the last word. Let the wild rumpus begin.