tammytoes

It struck me this morning that it’s been a really long time since I actually read and thought about Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. And what it evokes, all the way from that dedication of Soldiers’ National Cemetery in 1863 to the current litany of crises we are facing now in our country, is at once civic pride and outrage. Republicanism as freedom, equality and democracy? Where are my sovereign people?

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

I thought a lot about whiskey tonight. Instead of drinking it, I ate orange slices and listened to Leonard Cohen.

If you don’t become the ocean, you’ll be seasick every day.

Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.

The moon is swimming naked and the summer night is fragrant with a mighty expectation of relief.

When I started playing roller derby, I experienced a rather dramatic transformation: the effect of that particular exercise, more so than anything else I’ve ever done, changed me from being a clod into someone who could hold herself relatively upright for prolonged periods of time. Now, one month into retirement, it seems that the universe has returned to its normal state of being.

I’m falling down at an alarming rate these days.

In one week:

• I ate shit casually running to home plate during a pick-up kickball game last week. Spectacular faceplant.
• I fell down the next day at a charity bowling event, throwing my first frame. The cause was legitimate: gummy substance on my left shoe. The dramatics (flailing arms, dropped bowling ball) were all me. 100+ donors stared at my clumsiness and probably wondered if I was drunk.
• Two hours later when I WAS drunk, I fell down the stairs of my house, holding the cat. Bruised tailbone.
• Two days later, I wipe out in the bedroom of my best friend’s 4-year-old. I end up on landing on a pile of toys and breaking (yes, breaking) a nightlight. And probably bending several beloved dinosaur toys. My friend’s child had the most appropriate reaction: “WHOAH.” Wide eyes staring at the clod.
• On Monday at work, I trip leaving a manager’s meeting.
• And yesterday, I catch my toe on a concrete edge and almost go flying in front of an office building.

There’s a part of me that’s silently freaking out about this frenetic return to clumsiness, a part that is humilitated that it’s happening ALL over again (my lack of grace having been a joke amongst friends for years) and a part of me that finds this hilarious. There’s nothing more humbling than finding yourself at the center of a cosmic sight gag. Really.

But then I’ve realized: this is all about equilibrium. The past two years have been punctuated by so much joy, by so much sadness, by divorce and chaos and overwork, by caring and kindness and community. All of this at a time when I was having fun being knocked down, dealing with injury, and – most importantly – constantly getting a hand up.

This is learning how to stand again, and walk, and be on my own two feet, and thinking about what that means.

All this in the same week:
…A close friend gets into a severe car accident, then has an allergic reaction to the dye used in his cat scan. He calls me to tell me that being alive is good. Yes, it is good.
…A woman who sent me dahlias and William Carlos Williams poetry and then told me to fuck off almost a decade ago because I hurt her sends a signal back into my life. The universe reminds me that it’s important to be careful with other people’s hearts.
…Amazing, always amazing conversations with friends close by and far away. How dare I take these people for granted?

This is about equilibrium. Weight, counterweight, balance, stance. It’s hard to look at the sky when you’re walking. But on the ground, there’s only up – an up punctuated by the laughter and concern of people who love you, extending their hands.

Thursday night was inspiring! Thursday, 7:45 pm. Bathroom at Watercourse Foods. Weeping unicorn: greatest bathroom graffiti ever.

9:05 pm. Lenny’s Bathroom, Twin Peaks night.

I loved this project.

Thursday, 12:25 pm. Denver Public Library, Woodbury Branch Bathroom. Everything (stalls, walls, porcelain and paper towel dispensers) in orange, yellow and beige.