I’ve had the blues. I haven’t written for a minute because I’ve been looking at this and wonder what to say in light of this dark spell.
The Fourth of July holiday definitely played a part in my mood, along with certain Supreme Court decisions. I find it hard to celebrate the U.S. origin story, and our nation’s refusal to make any kind of recompense to Native and African Americans. I am incredulous at how tone deaf to history we are — how fascism equals freedom in the minds of many of my fellow Americans. I kind of want to bail on being an American right now, but I don’t want to bail on the bigger ideal of what’s possible for a bunch of humans trying to share a land mass.
Even though I pushed pause on writing this week, here I am spreading my blues like sour jam on toast. Sorry. The upside of being down is that it really does push me to take heart, to find ways to pull out of the undertow tugging at my ankles.
I know I’m not alone in having strong feelings right now. Maybe this “sour jam” session will help someone else feel less alone with their feelings. We’re all in this together, and we can share the weight of these heavier emotional loads without breaking the net of support.
Hosting the Emotional Dinner Party
I’ve been through enough emotional lows that I know there will be an equal and opposite reaction — it’s a law, after all! My task is to just sit with myself, to listen, to actually sense the angers, the tears, the frustrations, and give them their place at my table — without needing to believe everything they’re saying, or following their lead. I mean, I’m the host of this dinner party — and it might be like something Salvador Dali would throw. The emotions are my strangely-dressed guests there to add their own “flavor” to this event called Life. I have learned to give them the floor while they’re there, and show them the door when they’ve had their say.
Preaching to the Choir
So jump with me into another metaphor: Being a member of the human race reminds me of the group projects we were assigned in school. Remember when you got assigned to a group, each person had their task, and if somebody flaked, everybody failed? Right now, I guess I feel that panic — a little like like Catherine O’Hara’s SCTV character Lola Heatherton (my alter ego) screaming all wild-eyed “People! Get it together!”
Most of my group experiences like this came from singing in school choirs. The majority of singers could carry the tune, but a few just couldn’t get it. It wasn’t their fault really — they just couldn’t hear the music the way others did. So the excellence of the performance depended on whether the more musically-inclined could maintain their pitch, and come together in such a way that would compensate for those who weren’t in tune — so that the whole group could be proud and sound great.
This is much the way I see us as nation, and as a species — everybody’s in the choir, but how do we make it the best it can be? Who can see the choir’s potential, and knows how to get the best harmonies out of us? That’s the question we all have to ask ourselves in this election year. Somehow, outside of all this foment, I gotta believe that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts — that this collective entity I’ll call Team Humanity wants to succeed, and excel.
The Great Escape
When the Fourth of July arrived, I just had to escape America for a few hours. Where did I go? Ironically to jolly old England — via BBC’s Lark Rise to Candleford.
If you a) love British dramas and b) want to reignite some optimism for humanity, I highly encourage you to time travel with me to this delightful slice of 19th century Oxfordshire. The show is brilliantly acted, portrayals are raw and real — and the writing blew me away. It’s a delight to encounter writing with such emotional intelligence, and I was particularly impressed by the finessed allusions to some of the issues we’re dealing with today while never breaking “period.” Embedded within those allusions are seeds of hope, glimpses of what humans can actually bring forth from themselves when they attune themselves to the well-being of the community.
The storyline revolves around the working class folk who occupy the little hamlet of Lark Rise. Lark Risers have long felt “under the thumb” of the townsfolk of Candleford — those who wield the power of education, land ownership and class. Within these two communities dwell the full array of archetypes — and what makes it even more impressive, that full array of archetypes, from angel to demon, is also on display within individuals, who in spite of their circumstances, are willing to examine themselves in order to become better humans. Yes, a few in Candleford do look down on their Lark Riser neighbors, and vice versa. The pagan ways of Lark Rise are roundly condemned by the wickedly righteous, God-fearing Thomas Brown (Mark Heap), who “mans” the post office. (He is not the boss, but the only man.) The divide is as clear cut as any we see in today’s world. But that’s just where the story begins!
When Laura (Olivia Hallinan), the eldest daughter of a Lark Rise family, is required to fly from her loving little nest to take a position in the Candleford post office, she can’t fathom how she’ll endure. Though she feels out of her depth in Episode One, another kind of quirky family develops around her at the post office — co-workers you’d never dare to invite to a dinner party, but somehow manage to make this bustling post office hum. The harmony wouldn’t be possible without the great heart and skillful wit of the Post Mistress, Dorcas Lane (deftly portrayed by Julia Sawalha), who routinely finds herself slogging through the shadows of her own nature.
Through Laura’s widening experience of herself among this cadre, she finds a way to navigate the emotional divide within herself. Consequently, a bridge begins to build between the two communities. The strife is universal and familiar; the resolutions are hilarious and heartfelt. These characters inspire me to call on my better angels when I’m feeling tugged by the emotional hounds of hell.
This show is thought-provoking and sidesplitting and tear-jerking, and certainly deserves a better review than I can provide here. Suffice it to say, my lovely respites in Lark Rise and Candleford give me a clearer lens on what’s happening in America right now, and stoke the fires of my heart for my fellow humans, whatever side of the divide they’re camping on.
This show seeps into your soul quietly, not through any overt effort, no mediciney “preaching,” but through a resonance — an attunement — illustrated beautifully in Laura as she becomes willing to expand her life experience to the “other” world that waits for her in Candleford.
Postscript
So later in the day on the Fourth of July, my sweet neighbors invited me over for a little barbecue and homemade ice cream! Their guests from Austin, Jill and Gavin, sat across from me at the picnic table. Making small talk, I mentioned that I’d spent the morning watching this BBC show, Lark Rise to Candleford. Jill commented, “Oh isn’t it amazing when you watch a show like that? The way it stays with you, is inside you, even though you’ve turned it off and are doing something completely different?”
Say no more.
Hi Mary,
I feel you girl. I’m so grateful to live in Canada, where human rights are still intact. I am deeply concerned about the goings on in the US and have written to the president and am planning on writing to the DNC ! I have already voted and this will be my first year voting in Canada as a citizen here of only 2 years.
I wish that voting was mandatory for all citizens of age ; it’s a right that so many take for granted!
You are always welcome here on Vancouver Island. I have a guest room!
I see you,
Love,
Patti ❤️
❤️