memoriam

Baby sis (whose birthday was in Jan) and I didn't feel we could bear to celebrate our birthdays this year. So we've put them on hold.

Starting Saturday, I'll be spending a week with United Way of Sarasota County (FL) cleaning up after Hurricane Milton as part of a college service break with students. It'll be filthy work all day and bunking at a local church shelter at night.

My mom would be slightly horrified at spending a birthday this way--she so loved luxury and soft things. 

But somehow it feels right to me. Not quite a celebration, more as a way of comemorating the gift of this body she birthed. 

In any case, it'll be different.

Pic: Mallards on the Red Cedar. Walk with AS last week.

"I trust"

Thanks to J and Big A, I started the day with a yoga practice that urged me to trust the journey.

I'm trying.

One of the things I think about a lot as my birthday approaches is how this will be the first time I'm here without her in this body she gave me.

At the pow-wow this afternoon with LB and EM, as I watched the dancers in competition completely lose themselves, it made me want to tie my bharatanatyam ankle bells on and whirl until my feelings centrifuge away. 

I love this meme by "Notorious Cree" where they play the "wrong Indian music," (i.e. my kind of Indian) but dance anyway.

Pic: One of the Ojibwe dancers today.  

lining up

Grief has been crippling lately. Meditating at the altar in the middle of the night, seeing Scout and my mom side by side, I found fresh regret for not knowing that mom was going, for not being able to say a final goodbye--the way I was able to with Scout. If I had known ahead of time, I could have flown to Bangalore. 

Past me must have decided that I needed to do more things, because my calendar has been jam-packed.

But current me had to deal with an Urgent Care trip for Big A on Tuesday (Long Covid is no joke) and an emergency vet trip for Huckleberry on Wednesday (waiting on results) and had to cancel some previously made plans.

But I still got to see Lucas Zelnick perform today and see the world premiere of Sally (based on the experience of Sally Hemmings) yesterday. 

Pic: A bunch of us at Sally; I'm nicely nestled between friends.

Dial F for flaky

It's the middle of the night so I can't text to apologize, but I just realized that I absolutely flaked on Saturday yoga with J! I didn't even remember when I texted her today about something else. 

And I somehow napped through my alarm for my video call with dad and sis. I blame the "Oscar Mule" I had at the cinema with my galentines for that. 

(We went to see Wuthering Heights, which ended very disappointingly for the literature nerds amongst us [kinda halfway though the book before Heathcliff does the more Heathcliff-y things]. I think there has been some buzz about casting a white person as Heathcliff [he's supposedly Roma/Lascar]. But also they cast an East Asian and a South Asian in leading roles and the songs were by Charli XCX [who's half Indian] so it's not malice, at least?)

Pic: Dial M for Murder with Big A at Williamston Theater yesterday. It's so tiny intimate.

playback

I know when that note sounds
and I feel touched everywhere
that anything could happen… 
anything bad

unbothered, not hiding its shape 

it is the obviously-wrapped gift
--a rock, a key, a boomerang
you already know

so I am this stranger crying until
it makes me stranger--becomes
my first experience of myself 
as only a memory

__________

A note apropos of nothing: It made me so sad to hear that James Van Der Beek who played Dawson in Dawson's Creek (a comfort watch back in the day that I started dipping back into during the pandemic) died yesterday (so young!) from colorectal cancer. I'm horrified to learn that two years of cancer treatment have left this successful celebrity actor's family needing a GoFundMe to pay for their children's education. The US healthcare system is brutal. [Also brutal, the look Big A gave me when I said Dawson had "battled cancer" because every obituary I had just read used that phrasing. I should do better.]

________________

Pic: The frozen Maple River. The temperatures look like they're going up--gloriously--so all this is going to be melt and runnels soon.

took my breath away

I had been waiting with bated breath to read the lovely Nicole's new novel Inhale Exhale and I devoured it in one long binge, barely pausing to catch my breath. It's a breath of fresh air, and I could hear Nicole's good sense, compassion, humor, and patience on every page. Nicole enjoys Catherine Newman and Katherine Heiny and this elegant and unflinching novel absolutely belongs the shelf with those greats.

Totally chuffed to see a teacher in the book with (part of) my name! (There's a "Maya" too, but then the world is full of illusion. Ha.)

Also chuffed to see the anthology I was in last year, made it to Bibliomama's 5-star reads of 2025. (I think it says so much about her kindness!)

Pic: Because all my breath-related jests weren't enough, I posed Nicole's novel with a Buddha because the protagonist, Michelle, is a yogi.

Ok, I've been sick (but here's kindness, smiles, and a speech)

I did bring back an unwelcome souvenir as Nance called it, but I believe I'm on the mend. I had to cancel class (can't remember the last time I did that!), but I got plenty of rest and read like a demon.

Loved this essay on receiving kindness titled "How will the Miracle Happen Today." Travel writer Kevin Kelly writes about receiving kindness from strangers all across the world, frequently people who have little to start with. I don't know where I would be without the kindness of strangers... I still think of the office cleaner in Madras 25+ years ago who wanted to share their paper cone of peanuts with me as I waited for my ride because I was visibly pregnant. ("maybe the little one is hungry" Oh, my heart <3) 

All of it is worth reading, and I bookmarked this bit: "My new age friends call that state of being pronoia, the opposite of paranoia. Instead of believing everyone is out to get you, you believe everyone is out to help you. Strangers are working behind your back to keep you going, prop you up, and get you on your path. The story of your life becomes one huge elaborate conspiracy to lift you up. But to be helped you have to join the conspiracy yourself; you have to accept the gifts."

For more smiles, this NYT article, "The Evolutionary Brilliance of the Baby Giggle" really delivers. Turn on the sound for a pick me up! This part blew my mind in a lovely way: "Indeed, this idea — that laughter is primarily social, less about comedy and more about connection — holds true for adults as well, and has been underscored by research showing that laughter overwhelmingly occurs in the company of others and typically follows banal remarks in conversation, rather than in response to jokes or punchlines. The signature belly laughs seen in the video above are involuntary, bursting forth during genuine, uncontrollable amusement. This type of laughter is driven by the brain’s limbic system, structures crucial for emotion, memory and motivation. But by 6 months, our lab has found, infants can intentionally produce a laugh. This ability comes not from the limbic system but from the brain’s language areas and emerges at the same time as babbling. Six-month-olds will deploy laughter to prolong a game of peekaboo or to signal a desire to join in." This made me laugh in delight!

And on social media, I was pointed to this amazing moment on the Stephen Colbert show, where Sir Ian McKellan (around the 20-minute mark) launches into a rendition of a monologue by Sir Thomas More known as the strangers' case speech. First penned by Shakespeare in 1603-04  (for someone else's play) it asks what the anti-immigrant rioters would do if the king banished them for their rebellion, where would they go? They would become refugees themselves: "what would you think/to be thus used? This is the strangers' case/And this your mountanish inhumanity." How relevant for now.

Pic: The more the merrier. Max and Huck with "cousin" Abby at brunch on Sunday.

I've been traveling

It was just a quick trip to check in on MIL, but our 48 hour trip to Yellow Springs (Friday evening to Sunday evening) turned into quite the fun whirl. It helped that MIL seemed so much better than "now in a power wheelchair" seemed to suggest. In fact, I didn't see the wheelchair in action at all, so it was a good weekend.

We got in late on Friday evening and hung out Saturday. Then I had a long lunch with TJA (who lost her mom three years ago and has never recovered, and I fear that might be me). Then after everyone went to bed, there was an urgent invite to come to game night, so it was off to our old neighbors, where EVERYONE was there, and people were lining up to hug us like the prodigal returnees we are. Brunch with the Ms on our way out of town on Sunday, surrounded by all the loveliness of their Pottery. I don't need anything new at this point, but I did grab some stuff for presents.

Now Nu has been returned to their dorm, and I feel something coming over me. Hopefully, it's not something a few strong doses of turmeric tea can't fix. I'd like to say I've been traveling this weekend, not that I've been sick.

Pic: I had to borrow reading glasses to play Catchphrase, and people wanted a picture of me wearing these outsize glasses. I wanted to take a pic with SA, At's beloved 4th grade teacher, so this one is a two-fer.

a book (+ the files)

A beautiful book, Sonya Renee Taylor's The Body is Not an Apology, for a bookclub via the college librarians. I've been trying to get students to sign up for it, but so far it's all faculty and staff. 

It's a 2018 book, so it's unaware of the 2026 avatar of horror... But she uses what she calls "The Donald" to distinguish beautifully between people who think highly of themselves and radical self love: "Even if we were to surmise that Trump and others like him are acting from an exaggerated lack of selfesteem or confidence, I think we can agree not much of their attitudes or actions feel like love." Absolutely!

Is anyone seeing the info being released from the Epstein Files? What is this horror? I have all this grief and anger about the children harmed (killed?) and how so many people who have patriarchal power in our society--presidents, billionaires, writers, gurus--seem to have been involved. And now... nothing. No accountability. No consequences. How have we not risen up to expel them? Why are clowns asking that we stop attacking pedophiles?! Why are so many university folks connected to this? Larry Summers has always been disgusting, but Noam Chomsky? Poetry prof Elisa New? 

Pic: That's supposed to the The Red Cedar, but it just looks like a a solid vastness of snow and ice. I miss when everything was brighter and warmer. Apparently, there's more coming. Do. Not. Want. Another snow storm. Another snowmageddon. I haven't even recovered from the last one. Walk with L yesterday.

Speaking up

Yes. Called my reps to share my thoughts about holding ICE accountable to court orders (they currently flout them) and asking for arrests for anyone who perjured themselves with regard to the Epstein files.

Yes. Noticed that teaching days on my projected Fall schedule looked preternaturally lengthy and would leave me with 12-hour campus days. Spoke to my chair and they're working on modifying it to something more sustainable. 

No. At a meeting (where I was the only person of color in the speaker's line of vision), they made a "joke" characterizing me as a "bad teacher." (Thoughts that flashed in my head: I love my students. I've won teaching awards. A student named the teacher character in their video game after me. Nicole gave a teacher my name in her novel. In all of the polycrisis of the last year, teaching is the thing that has sustained me, and the one ball I didn't drop. I try to be a good teacher, I wanted to say... Instead, I chuckled awkwardly.) 

Pic: It's so cold, someone put a jersey on the statue of Sparty outside the football stadium.

disjunction

It's like duh...              I do know what "dead" means             but then also... where did she go?             forever sounds like a trick              and so... does this mean          we can't talk again            (but we're always talking again)                      everything is costumed as a clue                          I follow as an amateur shaman           (also theologian astrophysicist)           with denial and love woven inside me              days keep ending; I keep finding ways          to wake them up again               it would be heaven if she were here             

                         that heaven I wouldn't mind her being in 

_____________

Pic: a gorgeous sunset on my way home... I'd never seen a column/beam/plume like that before. 

 

continuity

I did not have any big resolutions for the year.

And truly, I'm at a point where I want to move through the world with ease and empathy rather than trying to upgrade myself into some model of efficiency... 

If anything, I think I do too much and hold myself to standards only I care about.

This year, I will let myself be playful and curious rather than serious.

Pic: EM's post dinner photo of Nu reading to Max and Huck. Nu was home briefly this weekend to see Hadestown with us. They are reading from a book called Bedtime Stories for Dogs. JN had it sent to me from Thrift Books because I'd told her I was reading to Max and Huck. The book cost all of $1.29, but tells me how rich I am in friendship. 

back to life

January is gone. It was cruel. 

It was a clusterfuck. 

Or to put it more politely, in a word I learned this year, it was a polycrisis, overwhelmed by bad news and hemmed in by uncertainty. It's not surprising that I kept trying to start and restart and kept failing. It felt like some part of me already knew... But finding out from last semester's class notes that this was the week (Week 5) when I headed home for the funeral was the slow-motion gut punch on repeat I did not need. 

But I'm here, so once more into the breach, I guess. 

Adam Serwer's piece in The Atlantic, had this absolutely remarkable passage I cannot stop rereading: "The secret fear of the morally depraved is that virtue is actually common, and that they’re the ones who are alone. In Minnesota, all of the ideological cornerstones of MAGA have been proved false at once. Minnesotans, not the armed thugs of ICE and the Border Patrol, are brave. Minnesotans have shown that their community is socially cohesive—because of its diversity and not in spite of it. Minnesotans have found and loved one another in a world atomized by social media, where empty men have tried to fill their lonely soul with lies about their own inherent superiority. Minnesotans have preserved everything worthwhile about “Western civilization,” while armed brutes try to tear it down by force." SO much yes!

And Tressie McMillan Cottom says about political exhaustion that sometimes it's not retreat and rest one needs but actually action and connection. That "sometimes we're not exhausted because we're aware of too much, we are exhausted because we're doing too little." The antidote, she says is to get involved, as "people who feel agentic aren't as tired." This is something for me to remember.

Pic: Baker Woods with L. I feel like the trees are nodding their wise heads over me. 

down and then a recharge

I spent Friday night in the E.R. with Nu (so thankful they're ok now), and there was another fatal ICE shooting in Minneapolis. 

My brain is fried, my heart is sore. 

Friday's meetings got shifted online due to the weather, so I absolutely did not have driving to the E.R. at 2 am in -20 degree weather with my car barely 50% charged in my plans. I made it with 8 miles left on the battery. But I found a charger in town and recharged.

I got a heart recharge too with bestie KB too. She spent two days here and I heard about her adventures marching with her fellow Minneapolitans, we talked our hearts out, and I have plans to see her again later this week, so it's not goodbye yet. 

Pic: Timeline cleanse. Huck, Max, and K. It was Max's first time meeting K, and he was all over her.