Journal to a Muse

Tonight, I wish I were an ostrich.

An ostrich would ignore the bombing in Haifa and Beirut, the fiery photographs on the evening news.

An ostrich would not do the chicken dance because of enthusiasm over Joe and Valerie Plame Wilson's civil suit against those they believe divulged Ms. Wilson's CIA connection.

An ostrich would notice its achieved goals and feel eager for the next day without second guessing herself.

An ostrich would have forgotten than, um, she overslept, and was late for a meeting.

An ostrich would not have been scheduled for a meeting.

Instead, I am a woman, a lover, a mother, a coach, a friend, a knitter, a thinker and perhaps more descriptors than could be counted.

I have many and mixed feelings about today's developments in the middle East. I do not understand how men (surely it is mostly men?) decide to send weapons to kill other men, and their families, who they SUSPECT of planning to attack them. If there were PROOF of such plans, wouldn't their be remedies under Rules of Law? Isn't there at least that much civility in the Cradle of Civilization?

I am thrilled that an acquaintence who took early retirement and then re-located his skills to be part of the re-building efforts in Iraq contacted me and let me know of the extremes of his experiences: koy, terror, satisfaction, frustration.

I am much less thrilled at the sound bites showing elected officials and appointed bureaucrats being partisan, ignorant, unthinking, venal and generally un-representative of constituents.

I am sad that so many people are worn down. My darling daughter posted this morning about pink light. Pink Light is our family's phrase that denotes a sphere of beneficial energy directed from one person to another. I think of it as customized ball lightening like they talk about in Marfa, Texas. Customized because of the color. Now white light has been a visualized healing tool for longer than I remember. But pink, to me, resonates with safety (like a red warning but gentler), and a good bit of feminine strength. I can send pink light to the men in my life... because I'm a woman and a mother. A sensitive new-age kind of guy might send pink light to me, but most men would send yellow (independence), or orange (playfulness) or even deep red if they had some anger mixed in.








Maybe it would be nice to pretend to be an Ostrich with plenty of pink light.