I dwell in possibility

…I’m just putting this out there so I can refer back to this post someday.. .. it will come out eventually that Trump used a Milania double during his presidency. I first noted this last term and as of this morning’s interview the sheister is using her again. Not sure if it says more about him or the people who follow him…

Above, a screenshot from this morning’s interview. An imposter stands beside him- this is not Milania, but he’s banking on you thinking it is.

Democracy to our south has washed away like a sandcastle in the rising tide. It is too late to to stop the erosion now. The rule of law and court system is now meaningless; amendments to the constitution itself can be arbitrarily signed away by a single hand of an autocratic ruler. The United States is no longer a democracy.

Money, power, and foreign influence have converged behind a demagogue who effectively harnesses plebiscite rage and distracts a la bread and circuses while the real agendas roll out. Unelected billionaires strut through the people’s halls defining policy. Was it really that easy? Just keep tossing out the sacrificial red (scapegoat) meat, rinse, and repeat. No need for a successful coup (and besides, you can simply pardon those who try that more taxing route); the system has rotted from within.

This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper. – T.S. Eliot, The Hollow Men

Before Christmas, all three of our individual Christmas trees fell apart in unique ways. For my brother and I the lights simply failed; the other family tree was slowly disintegrating and is nearing the rubicon of being unusable. It seemed fitting since all traditions were wrong, awry, and quite broken.

In our family, lights burning out have often either heralded death or occurred relentlessly afterwards. The extreme case was my Grandfather’s passing, that is for another post, perhaps.

Right before Christmas, a light in the ensuite Mom and I use burned out. The symbolism did not escape my notice or heart; I chose not to replace it for the duration of the holidays. A light is indeed out; a family of four reduced to three.

After some excruciating times during the holidays requiring any and all reserves of strength to endure, I’ve returned.

I’m working through “Grief Day by Day” by Jan Warner, encountered this quote, and knew it was a sign to return. ❤️

This below quote also struck a deep chord today- no analysis required.

Mom’s Christmas cactus inexplicably, suddenly blooms. It is the first time it has bloomed in over 40 years.

I did a double take first thing this morning at 7 am when I turned the page-a-day Audobon calendar. A calendar often featuring different landscapes, and more infrequently, creatures of the earth.

A bird. In Cold Lake. My place of birth. In 1975 the population was 1,308. No, wait! I was born that year. 1,309. This is not a large town. When I was born in the Cold Lake hospital there were just two babies in the nursery, including me!

The town has since grown to the booming population of 15,000… but still! Of all the places…. in the entire world to be mentioned today? This is not even a Canadian calendar. A bird in Cold Lake featured today? Astounding.

Cold Lake was where Mom and Dad truly began life as a married couple. Below is an iconic pic circa 1975 – Mom and Dad’s Toyota in the foreground, in front of the Cold Lake sign (and Cold Lake itself) as they approached the small town. The Toyota Corolla was their first car, an important first major purchase for a couple many hours away from home base and where my Grandma and Grandpa Reade lived in Edmonton.

Mom and Dad were drawn to Cold Lake as teaching jobs were scarce then and Dad managed to score his first job out of University as a teacher in nearby Grand Centre. To me it speaks to Johnny Clegg’s “I’m searching for the spirit of the great heart” – such exciting, breathtaking potential wrapped up in a moment. The beginning of their beautiful life together, our family, Dad’s career as an English Teacher/musician/writer, and Mom’s in the medical field.

So much of “my town” are now ghosts; shadows of what once was. Living in the dark recesses of very few people’s memories, and soon to be gone forever.

People I’ve loved, places I’ve lived or worked in, all fading. The sun’s setting fast. The day Dad passed this song settled into my head and has lived there ever since.

I was blessed to see her sing this song and many others at three separate Folk Festivals over the years. I was moved to tears each time.

Our Town -Iris DeMent (1992)

And you know the sun’s settin’ fast,
And just like they say, nothing good ever lasts.
Well, go on now and kiss it goodbye,
But hold on to your lover,
‘Cause your heart’s bound to die.
Go on now and say goodbye to our town, to our town.
Can’t you see the sun’s settin’ down on our town, on our town,
Goodnight.

Up the street beside that red neon light,
That’s where I met my baby on one hot summer night.
He was the tender and I ordered a beer,
It’s been forty years and I’m still sitting here.

But you know the sun’s settin’ fast,
And just like they say, nothing good ever lasts.
Well, go on now and kiss it goodbye,
But hold on to your lover,
‘Cause your heart’s bound to die.
Go on now and say goodbye to our town, to our town.
Can’t you see the sun’s settin’ down on our town, on our town,
Goodnight.

It’s here I had my babies and I had my first kiss.
I’ve walked down Main Street in the cold morning mist.
Over there is where I bought my first car.
It turned over once but then it never went far.

And I can see the sun’s settin’ fast,
And just like they say, nothing good ever lasts.
Well, go on now and kiss it goodbye,
But hold on to your lover,
‘Cause your heart’s bound to die.
Go on now and say goodbye to our town, to our town.
Can’t you see the sun’s settin’ down on our town, on our town,
Goodnight.

I buried my Mama and I buried my Pa.
They sleep up the street beside that pretty brick wall.
I bring them flowers about every day,
but I just gotta cry when I think what they’d say.

If they could see how the sun’s settin’ fast,
And just like they say, nothing good ever lasts.
Well, go on now and kiss it goodbye,
But hold on to your lover,
‘Cause your heart’s bound to die.
Go on now and say goodbye to our town, to our town.
Can’t you see the sun’s settin’ down on our town, on our town,
Goodnight.

Now I sit on the porch and watch the lightning-bugs fly.
But I can’t see too good, I got tears in my eyes.
I’m leaving tomorrow but I don’t wanna go.
I love you, my town, you’ll always live in my soul.

But I can see the sun’s settin’ fast,
And just like they say, nothing good ever lasts.
Well, go on, I gotta kiss you goodbye,
But I’ll hold to my lover,
‘Cause my heart’s ’bout to die.
Go on now and say goodbye to my town, to my town.
I can see the sun has gone down on my town, on my town,
Goodnight.
Goodnight.

A haunting song whose vibe I feel this morning—

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog
Where no one notices the contrast of white on white
And in between the moon and you
The angels get a better view
Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right

(Round Here, Counting Crows)

Feeling a bit ghost in the fog like this morning. I’m in the world, existing, but am I living? Christmas usually brings such joy and there is… nothing? I opened the front door this morning, face hitting the cold, staring at the neighbour’s Christmas lights. I stare. Nothing stirs in the Holloway depths. I close the door. Someday, I will rebuild. But not this morning.

In previous posts, I have alluded to the intense bird imagery our family has used, and how Dad was often referred to as a Great Grey Owl. I’ve also made reference for the near suffocating bird imagery we experienced leading up to this summer’s tragic events.

At many times during the drive yesterday, I tried reaching out to Dad, desperate for a sign of presence. Something, anything. I wondered if there was none to be found, or if perhaps I had missed something in my distracted emotional state. I tried to find peace in the sunshine that guided me home.

The morning after, I went to my page a day Audubon calendar that features an assortment of nature scenes. In between wanderlust dreamscapes living creatures are sometimes featured. I turned the page.

❤️

The scientific mind, immediately activated, tried to rationalize. What are the astronomical odds vs a “the fortune cookie couldn’t possibly know what you need” (ie the calendar is premade) sort of My Dinner With Andre-esque conversation launched in my head.

Still, I remind myself of civilization’s highly limited knowledge and understanding of the world around us. I’ve had many personal experiences demonstrating a seeming malleability – or at least a resonance of energy – that seems to ripple throughout (and somehow influence) space and time. We don’t know more than we do know. And I find some peace and comfort with that.