Coax

Last night, September 29, 2020 will mark the end of civility in America, the downfall of democracy, and the beginning of the end of the age of innocence. Everything we bought and believed in about the American Dream - - and I was one of them - bounding out to California at the bright and optimistic age of 22 and culminating in my citizenship in 2019 — can now be buried. I am disgusted by what I saw and I have woken today with the heaviest heart, an ache in my neck and shoulders, close to tears. I walk now, saluting magpies as I go, through English woodland, bereft. Where is the Ian McEwen essay that came after 9/11? Where is the soothing poem that brings us back to the sound of geese overhead? The thing that reminds us to look to nature for solace?

My sleep has never been worse and I am aware that my mental health is compromised. I made a spiced apple cake yesterday in celebration of the season. I cleaned the wood floors till my back ached. I was at my desk from breakfast till after supper, and then more in the night. Sleep is fitful if at all. I dreamed of India Knight, of Princess Margaret, and some poet friends and a happy lunch with garden vegetables, pale sunshine, a group of smiling dogs, an old client whom I adore, a big arm around my shoulders coaxing the energy back into me slowly. And then I was awake again with the twittering classes and the despair. 

I am sitting in a wood listening to birds and it is all I can do this morning to wrestle my life back and contemplate what it is I can do to make this world a place of joy again. I am for once in my life, all out of ideas. 

People come here for inspiration and joy. I know this. I don't have any to give. I look at old photos of bon mots and they feel quaint and old fashioned. 

Please bare with as Miranda would say. We will claw our way back soon. 

Much love 💕