people want to know why i didn’t vote for obama. people want to know why i didn’t use my vote at all. initially, i thought, in order for anything i say to be valid, i MUST post the answer BEFORE the elections. the more i thought about it, the more cowardly it seemed. it one thing to hold your piece in the midst of election frenzy. it is another to disagree when a decision has already been made. and it is yet another thing to support the decision without agreeing with it.

my vote was mine to use. neither candidate was acceptable to me. so i decided that i would not use my vote against the other. that is, i would not choose the lesser of blah blah blah, you know the saying. i didn’t oppose one so much that i was willing to default my vote.

and now all this healthcare frenzy. i made a decision this term to just sit back and watch. i don’t have an action to go with my opinion, so i just stay out of the debates. just let me know what happens and i’ll deal with it.

education and cynicism and life experience haven’t turned me into an atheist or an agnostic just yet. questioning my beliefs is something i do everyday all day, including my religious beliefs. i try, and often without success, to operate on a level that is integrated, all actions stemming from beliefs, all beliefs stemming from convictions and faith, all assessments of actions rooted in a self-contained matrix of learning. i don’t like catholicism. point blank, it’s been too corrupted over time and has lost its purity. but i still identify myself as catholic.

the first thing my 4 year old son said to me on our way out of the apartment on a drizzling October morning was “but mommy, you said that when i waked up this morning it was going to be BEAUTIFUL outside.” at first taken aback that he remembered my comment to him the night before, regarding the incoming cold front, i just paused and looked around. the sky was indeed gray and drab. the chilly, wet wind was passing through the open field behind our apartment complex and blowing the drooping tree branches to and fro. thinking quickly, i simply said “but listen, you can hear the birds chirping. they’re happy because they like the cold air that’s blowing.” he squinted as he peered into the overcast sky, confident that he would find something to be displeased with. “also, if you look at the flowers, they’re happy because they have some water to drink now…”  he walked the rest of the way to car in silence.

after getting into the car, i tuned in to my usual local alternative rock station, preparing for the nasty morning commute. as usual, my boy sat quietly in the back seat, watching the passing scenery, occasionally asking questions about his observations: “mommy what are those boxes on those poles?”, “mommy, why is that car driving like that?”, “mommy, am i going to be late to school?”  i am not a morning person and, as self-centered as it may sound coming from a mother, i don’t always like talking all that much. i answered the questions as they came as i halfway listened to the morning talk radio and focused on shitty 8 am traffic.  after 10 minutes of morning talk crap, i put on a CD that i mixed for car rides a few months back. immediately, i set it to play track 3, Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds. my son’s immediate reaction was excitement and “yeah yeah yeah! leave it here!!” i felt myself relax a little and listened to the simple lyrics and my son’s little singing voice. the song ran its course and by the end of it, i was feeling less tense than when i first entered the highway.

the next track on the CD is Bobby McFerrin singing Don’t Worry Be Happy. the song always takes me back to childhood in the 80s, watching Robin WIlliams and Bobby McFerrin dance around in the strange music video… well it was strange to me at 6 years old. as we neared the chorus, i started to whistle the parts of the song that everybody knows. my son’s singing stopped abruptly and there was a pause. “MOMMY! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU CAN WHISTLE SONGS!! HOW DO YOU DO THAT!!”  i made a face that he couldn’t see, confused by the statement. did he mean he didn’t know that I as an individual could whistle, or did he just realize that the pitch and tone of whistles could be controlled to imitate songs?  so i tried an answer to match the first possible meaning, resulting in a brief conversation:

“yes, i can whistle. it’s not very hard. you just have to make an ‘O’ with your lips and blow air out”

“i can’t do that. you and sister and fred can do that, but i don’t know how”

“you just have to practice. i couldn’t whistle when i was a little girl, but i learned how when i got older. sister had to practice, too.”

“but you can SING SONGS!” and his tone flipped to one of absolute incredulity “i don’t know how to do THAT.”

i once read somewhere (likely online) that laughter is a response to a momentary state of confusion. and when i commenced my whistling to the chorus of Don’t Worry, Be Happy, my son, in his amazement and disbelief, laughed maniacally. it was then that i realized that his question was the latter; that he was indeed stricken with awe that a person could not only whistle, but could produce a form of music with this skill alone. it wasn’t his “i’m-four-and-everything-is-silly” laugh. it was his characteristic “i’m-giggling-so-hard-i-can’t-breathe-but-i-can’t-believe-what-i’m-witnessing-and-don’t-have-any-other-coping-skill-in-my-four-year-old-body-but-to-roar-at-the-top-of-my-lungs-with-amusement” belly laugh.

if you’ve ever tried to whistle while laughing, you’ll know that it’s no easy task. my whistles were interrupted by my own inability to keep it together,

“NO, MOM. KEEP WHISTLING LIKE THAT!!”

“mijo, i can’t whistle if i laugh. you’re making me laugh and it’s very hard to do,”

“JUST WHISTLE!”

a strange request at 8:30 in the morning, but how can you say no to cherub cheeks and belly laughs? i tried to start again, and every time the main whistling part of the chorus started over on its high note, he burst with laughter, that sharp key puncturing his self-control. he resigned himself to singing along in a mock “whistle” that came out more like guttural humming through pursed lips. and every time he fell apart, so did I. and the rest of the ride to pre-school was spent in laughter and explanation of whistling and songs and music.

by noon that day, the clouds completely dissolved, leaving idyllic October skies behind and gentle sun and breeze. maybe my boy just needs to learn to trust his mother…

time to abandon ship. today is august 3, 2009.

anger that can’t be unleashed morphs into apathy and hopelessness. at least that’s my experience. it’s not my preference to keep such rigid controls on my fury. but fear of its destructive potential makes me keep it under lock and key. and, somehow, pelting a 600 page book across a room just isn’t as satisfying as it should be.

thought i'd immortalize this dyed orchid's color

orchid and japanese maple in spring

i woke up wanting the sun to shine in my eyes. i wanted the burning orange red to sear them and imprint memories of tracing bursts of fire. that way when i close my eyes, i still have light.

double back and start again

on a negative space that rests in deep folds

warmth, swaying darkness and rhythm

villi grasping for refuge from fear and doubt

no rhyme

only the restless shuffling of pacing minds

and the cold rushing of unsettled breath

steady heart, fluttering before the eye

blink and it doesn’t matter anymore