Dearest Beloveds,
As you know - everywhere there is an edge from open space to tall trees (forest or fallen trees) on our stewarded space - we have invasive plants.
They are mostly a panoply of Multiflora Rose, Autumn Olive (promoted by the USDA in the 1960s as a windbreak or wildlife habitat - now on the USDA invasives list), Japanese Honeysuckle, Porcelainberry vines (or Wild Grape, the jury is out), and a few Black Locusts in the fields themselves. This is obviously not the complete list of invasive plants on our land (I see you Garlic mustard and mugwort) - but these are the hardy woody perennials.
With the exception of the Wild Grape and Black Locust - all of those verdant happy plants originally were introduced from Asia in the 1800s as erosion control, ornamental hedges, and mitigators for disturbed land (mining etc). One can almost get the sense the entire East Coast was stripped bare of plants with overzealous mining and tree clearing (it was) and these plants came in to save the day.
A part of me admires the Trickster joke from Gaia on that one - Okay, you want to cut down all the trees for money and now there is an erosion issue that needs mitigation? Fine, go ahead - uproot these ones from their home across the globe and see what happens. I can wait 200 years for the joke to land.
My beloved children,
As you know, I grew up in Washington DC. Our nation’s capital, an epicenter of Global North power, and the accompanied jostling endemic to such power. There was a ubiquitous question in the cocktail party circuit. A refrain peeling out from many perfunctory conversations over square cheese bites.
“So, what do you do?”
You are really asking where I can be categorized in the ladder of capitalism. I see you.
Dearest Beloveds,
Spring springs, oncology visits abate, and your mother dives a new community. I have become a member of Coming To The TABLE (CTTT).* I have barely begun to scratch the surface of this amazing organization and am already fluttering with excitement and potentialities, not least of which is volunteering all of us to assist with the Freedom Walk 2026.
250 years after 1776, activists will walk the 750 mile trek of the Underground Railroad, “following 19th century routes to freedom.” They are starting in 19 days. Beginning in Maryland, they are tracing the routes traveled by Harriet Tubman and so many other frightened, courageous, inspiring souls - through New Jersey, New York, and into Canada.
During the last snowday, teetering on the roof of the wood shelter, Bean was stricken with indecision. “Should I jump?”
From the ground Dragon called up to Bean, , “Get ready! Get read-y!!”
“Dragon, stop!”
“The worllld is coming to an end!”
We all started laughing.
Thank you Thurber.
Recently, you two played very quiet indoor soccer. On the other end of the building your mother had this internal conversation.
Corinna, raise your hand. You will be mad at yourself if you ignore this nudge to speak.
I am going to ask this question in front of all of these fellow soccer parents - out myself as a crunchy hippy environmentalist - even though I know the answer is capitalism and no, there is no wiggle room.
Yup. Be the Lorax.
Dragon perched on his pillows, his legs pulled tight against him.
“Did you go to the bathroom?”
“Ummmm.” The slight shrug of his shoulders and his sheepish look spoke volumes.
“I will wait.”
Two minutes later he was back on the pillows, poised and ready to uncurl his legs.
Dear Beloveds,
One morning on our drive to school I took a break from exclaiming over the rose fingered snow covered mountains. “Okay kids, I want to share something with you that really resonated with your Momma. I was listening to Josh from The Emerald* interviewing a professor, Dr. Omid Safi. The professor said that in his religion, the opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference. I think this is so so soooo true and I wanted to talk about it.”
Quiet in the car.
Over the years, solar panels have been installed on every square inch of roof. There is nothing better than plugging in one of the cars and knowing that all of the energy generated goes straight to the ballet commute.
Then it snows.
Covering the panels.
The weather settles into below freezing for many days. Many days.
Snug under their blanket of snow, the panels teased and mocked me.
In 1984, James Baldwin wrote an essay for Essence, “On Being White… And Other Lies”. I urge you to chew on the whole thing again and again and again - because James Baldwin, sigh, what a BRAIN!
Quite convincingly, Baldwin argues the construct of “whiteness” or “being white” was chosen deliberately by European immigrants in order to participate in and benefit from America’s racial hierarchy.* As such, those of us who identify as white are left bereft of any moral authority.
America became white - the people who, as they claim, "settled" the country became white - because of the necessity of denying the Black presence, and justifying the Black subjugation…
I learned the term polycrisis from the Strozzi Institute Body & Commitment one day intensive invitation (happening May 15th in Brooklyn, NYC if you can join). This time of polycrisis is “a convergence of ecological, social, and economic shifts that can feel overwhelming and unpredictable.”
The term polycrisis first arrived on the scene in 1999. A French theorist of complexity (what a tagline) Edgar Morin coined the word, “to describe the web of interconnected catastrophes threatening our world.” So, okay, polycrisis* - what to do about it.
I hope you have your own collection of tools - meditating, drumming, yelling circles, therapy, etc etc. I am offering this quick one from Rob Wergin’s May 5th Teachings and Healings from The Masters that really struck a cord with me. Direct, simple, and applicable for all the swirls of micro and macro doings.**