watching from afar

I lived in LA—Glasell Park, Highland Park, Pasadena—for 21 years. I raised my kids there, worked there, walked there (in Eaton Canyon, at least once a week when the kids were young with fellow Moms), made deep and long-lasting community there. My heart is with those people; my eyes on those familiar streets; my memories feel more true than the images I see on my screens. I am very far away.

I am very far away from Altadena, Palestine, Mar Lago, and the headquarters of Meta©. I can watch it all; I can turn away, not look. I can post. I can re-post, choose emojis, send texts or money. I can share information and resources.

I have been blogging most days in the interval between election and inauguration (in retrospect, this and any blog works likes a clock and a record) as a practice to feel nourished and get by. This new calamity demands my full attention; the winds will blow until Friday, and the fires will spread, the damage escalate.

On this blog, off of Meta©, I mark that this is happening, to perhaps make more sense when distance allows. I mark that respect demands quiet and contemplation, care as listening, action, and mutual aid. I mark that I feel so greatly that this quiets my words and challenges my assumptions about the world, words, images, and platforms; and that my words (and other’s images) are part of these conflagrations.