I wake to the tweets of our mother bird friend and her babies in their nest outside our bedroom.
Then the red-shouldered hawks chime in with their squawks. There must be a nest they’re protecting from the crows.
The morning is more raucous than the fireworks that went off illegally into the night.
I’m reading Brian Greene’s book Until the End of Time. He explains our beginnings with the Big Bang, and in great detail explains how yes, we are stardust. Our elements have been made inside stars. Our star, our sun, is third generation. She’s new in formation, young, like us.
Walt Whitman captured it well when he wrote in Leaves of Grass:
“Before I was born out of my mother, my embryo has never been torpid… For it the nebula cohered to an orb.”
Today I read Heather Cox Richardson, and am stunned by a history of which I was unaware until the recent attention to it.
From Heather: In 1889, Republicans knew they were in political trouble. Americans had turned against their conviction that the government must protect big business at all costs, and that any kind of regulation or protection for workers amounted to socialism. In 1884, for the first time since the Civil War, voters had elected a Democrat to the White House. Grover Cleveland promised to use the government to protect ordinary Americans, and to stop congressmen from catering to wealthy industrialists.
To regain control of the government, in 1888, Republicans pulled out all the stops. They developed a new system of campaign financing, hitting up rich businessmen for contributions, and got employers to warn workers that if they didn’t vote for the Republican candidate they would be fired. Nonetheless, Republican Benjamin Harrison lost the election by about 100,000 votes.
But he won in the Electoral College.
Republicans immediately set out to make sure no Democrat could ever win the White House again. They rushed South Dakota into the Union in 1889, along with North Dakota, Montana, and Washington—all Republican regions– to pack the Senate and the Electoral College. The next year, they rushed in Wyoming and Idaho, too, boasting that they would dominate government for the foreseeable future.
South Dakota, though, was a problem. Virtually all of the land in that new state belonged to the Lakota people.
You can read more here:
This morning I read about creativity, which stirs in me as I’m with how our universe formed, this pulsing and gathering, expanding, and contracting, echoed with the pump of our heart with blood and air.
Jean Cocteau, a prolific poet, author, painter, illustrator, filmmaker, actor, and producer advised writers and artists.
“Listen carefully to first criticisms made of your work. Note just what it is about your work that critics don’t like — then cultivate it. That’s the only part of your work that’s individual and worth keeping.”
What a way to live our lives! Like stars coalescing, digesting, and spewing forth, may we do the same, each honoring that we are as individual and unique as snowflakes and fingerprints, each with our way to mark and make waves in sand.
And as we do, may we allow our lips to curl up in a smile, as we honor the orbs we are, the curves that flex as we connect.