--I don't have anything to say about the mass shooting in Maine; I never have anything new to say when there's a new mass shooting. I am wondering what each decade's violence says about whatever collective grief/trauma/anger we're feeling and how it manifests itself in distinctive and non-distinctive ways. Lately, it's mass shootings. In the early 1970's, there were lots and lots of bombings of public buildings, which most people don't know/remember. And then, at some point, it stopped. Will our time of mass shootings come to an end? And what will replace it?
--As we drove across the mountains on Sunday, I was struck by how fuzzy they look, now that the trees have turned. They look like they are made of yarn and other fibers. They look folded, or as my spouse said, pleated.
--Could I capture this image in words, in a poem, without seeming trite?
--I also had a poem thought about communion bread dough crusting around my wedding ring. Not sure where to go with this image, but I wanted to record it.
--I am writing (or maybe I am done writing) an anti-parable poem. What about the lost sheep that doesn't want to be found? What about the shepherd that is tired of dealing with the needs of a disparate flock? Is it a poem or just a collection of ideas about tiredness of the issues that community can create?
--Hurricane Otis slammed into Acapulco yesterday. It strengthened from a tropical storm to a category 5 in just 6 hours. Yikes.
--Miami is one of the areas most likely to be affected by these types of hurricanes that rapidly intensify at the last minute. I am so glad we sold our house in South Florida.
--Last night, in my seminary class that meets virtually by way of Zoom session, 2 of 10 of us had COVID, and one student didn't feel well, but had tested negative so far. Hmmm.
--Yesterday, after packing quilts for Lutheran World Relief, as I drove home, I thought, I should take a walk in this autumnal loveliness. Instead, we moved the brush pile from the back yard to the street, where it should be picked up by Sunday. I did take a walk through autumnal loveliness: up and down my yard.
--I thought about how much time I have spent in the past week moving the trash: from backyard pile to dumpster, from under the deck to recycling pile for cardboard, from backyard brush pile to street brush pile. Still, it had to be done, and I'm glad it's done.
--Amy-Jill Levine was fabulous, and I'll likely write a longer post about her later. She mentioned, almost in passing, that she thought Jesus was likely fat because he was always eating. She asked us to imagine the idea of Jesus as big, not in a muscled way, but a fat way. How would that change the ideas we have about our bodies? I will probably think about this a lot in the weeks and months to come.
--On a more mundane note, I want to remember an encounter I had at the Fresh Market, where the young guy working there, who looked WAY cooler than I could ever hope, to be asked me if I had exciting plans for the week-end. I said that I planned to make ghosts out of scraps of fabric, an honest answer. I said, "I know that doesn't sound like fun." He interrupted me to say, "Oh it totally does. It makes me want to plan a Halloween party." I said, "You should. Life is short, and you should plan more parties." He said, "I think I will!" In a different world, I might have invited myself to his party and met interesting people or met disaster. Because it is my life, I went on about my shopping, went home, and made ghosts out of muslin and batting.
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