Duerme Bien
2:30 am. On the dot. I can't tell if I prefer silence or this strange Ska band off in the distance. Rua Nova 32. Our last night.
Six suitcases packed. And at least 20 other boxes and bags.
Maybe the bar next store is closing down and this what the bartender loves to listen to. I can hear his deep throated yell above the bass and drums. But 2:30 am is far too early to close a bar in the summer on a Wednesday - on Rua Nova.
Well, that was decided quickly: silence.
I dream of my x-wife and old friends. Like the first time we landed here, now over a year ago. I dreamed of the past. Old anchors that once held me from floating out to sea.
My daughter slept three hours last night and then we sat up playing cards, and watching Nimona and KPOP Demon Hunters (again). I should have turned it off after Nimona. Poor thing looked like a ghost when we went to bed tonight. It is a lot to ask of a 13-year old. I tiptoed out of the bedroom hoping to not wake her and put the kettle on for more Duerme Bien tea.
So, here it is. A chapter closing and another one opening. They say moving is one of the most destabilizing things in the world up there with death of a loved one and divorce and losing your job.
But I loved moving. My body felt free and light. My mind felt calm. It was the simple art of owning nothing, of detaching from possession. We moved every 2-3 days for nearly 6 weeks. We only lost one earring and one rain jacket.
I lose more staying put.
I lose the perspective of what truly matters.
Security.
Integrity.
Belonging.
Healing.
Temphis Hemphill writes that healing (paraphrasing) is remembering and reawakening your capacity of feel safe, knowing you belong, feeling your own integrity. To feel in your body, not think it in your mind.
Healing is of the body because the mind exists within the body. Healing is life long, not a destination. Healing is not individual. It is collective and understood as a process by which we understand how racialized capitalism, patriarchy and systems of greed have harmed all of us - individually and collectively.
_________________________________________________________
The taxi driver who drove us to the airport in Dublin said sometimes he picks up old rich white American men from a golf course and they say, "Trump is the best thing that ever happened to America." Then he immediately asks about their golf game to get off the subject.
Everyone wants to know across the pond why America voted for him. It is the first question everyone asks. I usually start by saying that our country is deeply racist and has never dealt with its own history, and doesn't fund education.
"They don't undershtand der's utter people on dis rock..." he says in his thick Irish accent.
_________________________________________________________
Lake Ontario became Lake America a few days ago. As soon as the Executive Order was signed, Google bent and kissed the ring. That is what truly blows my mind.
Nowhere anywhere in American domestic or foreign laws does it state that private companies should bend to the peevish whims of name-calling/changing and spoiled-kid tantrums.
Only Congress has the power to name a thing. Yet Google immediately steps in tow, supplying the bully with arms or legitimacy.
Why? Because they are all cowards. They loved flexing the muscle of profit that will atrophy, leaving them in diapers on another planet.
I hate the fact that I use Google Maps.
But Google is the least of our problems. My daughter was on her phone and clicked the AI answer to a simple question. I scolded her and told her how many natural resources were wasted by that tiny motion. UNICEF says 10 times more energy is burned than running a simple google search.
10 times more water needed to cool data centers, 10 times more minerals mined to build the machines. With the slightest finger tap we burn and waste the earth. To answer a simple question: "When is the next Ted Lasso episode?"
What a mind fuck. The familiar fathoming of how our small actions can be so profound.
_________________________________________________________
The midterm elections will be here soon. Before we know it. And the only thing that actually matters is whether people turn out to vote. You can spin on voter suppression and redrawing of districts but it all comes down to one small action: casting a ballot. There are organizations, lawyers and leaders armed to defend our right to vote. And they will. If people remember their own power and sovereignty.
________________________________________________________On the flight from Dublin, I watched an Irish indie film called Trad. A traveling van of youngsters nail their cell phones to the dash. It is a right of initiation into their artistic cult, to pick up the hammer and crucify your cell phone.
The main character has the gift of music: the fiddle. But her mom wounds her where her gift lies. So she smashes the fiddle and stops playing.
And prefers silence.
It takes time for her to remember that her passion to play has nothing to do with her dysfunctional family. And everything to do with where she feels she belongs, where she is safe, where her integrity is home. It is her own life, her independence, her sovereignty. She has to smash it first and then she can return to it.
_________________________________________________________
Good night Rua Nova.
_________________________________________________________
Xinzo, Brión. We left the city and moved to the countryside. A small van drives by daily with bread, meat, cheese, eggs. Fish on Mondays and Wednesday. Laundry soap, toilet paper, household items on Fridays. You can drive to a small town from here in 10 minutes or you can wait for the van to arrive and see what is inside. I bought mandarines, laundry soap, cookies and milk today.
The sun is setting. We have yet to get a full night's sleep. We are exhausted. I sit outside, drink tea, listen to the neighbors arrive home (the rhythm of Galician Spanish). The cats explore the yard. The pool full of salt water gurgles. My daughter is mastering the art of a new mascara.
I embarrassed myself today trying to buy a mattress cover and explaining it as "Something that is on the mattress but under the savages." Sabanas. Salvajes. Two very different words. My daughter and I laughed so hard we cried once I figured out what I had done. Afterward, we sat down for Menu del día (15 EU) which included massive appetizers, an entree, dessert, a beverage, coffee, and an entire bottle of vino tinto. I could have drank it! But alas, there was more school shopping and driving to do.
There is nothing that will tie my ramblings in a bow. It is a long loose string, wound around the house that the cats play with. It is exhausted, irritated, intrigued, silly, patient, kind, loving, disgusted, outraged, and at peace - all in one day - and the house is still in boxes. But I would rather feel than think my way through these times.
