meanwhile, snowbellsI do my part in the war effort by listening to podcasts. This one on Ezra Klein delves into the complexities of economic sanctions.* His interviewee, Adam Touze, peppers his parentheticals with "as it were." This is not as familiar to me as "like" or "uh" so I listen as if it has meaning.
As I write, errant tabs accidentally fire updates. Bombing my mind. as it were. if you will. if I may.
Today my daughter is taking me for a ride somewhere, downtown maybe. So I'm going to copy bits of what I wrote on the Village Zendo listserve in response to a beautiful question: What supports you in times of suffering?
My father is a Russian born in Kiev. His father, a professor, was seized and murdered by Stalin. My father remembers Kiev under siege, and feels it again now as he watches the bam bam footage.
as it were.
He joined the U.S.military because he believed in this country, its democracy, its inclusion. So we lived on military bases during the cold war and were shunned for being Russian. Now my daughter asks if everyone will hate us. No, I say, Russian is many things, too complicated to be an enemy.
We watch the poetry of Tarkovsky (Stalker) and I feel supported. Humans flailing, looking for hope. I am like that.
My friend writes of dancing ash and co-dependent bundles, and I feel supported because his turns of phrase spin me into a new dimension. He writes about writing: "let the page overhear as a benevolent sponge." His words legitimize the hours I’m spending reviewing my diaries. Maybe not so benevolent, in my case. The stories I lived had the power to wound again. as it were! Now the words begin to blur, lose their meaning, lose their might.
A friend of a friend, Chad, just fled Ukraine. Chad made a beautiful film featuring a Ukrainian artist traumatized by Chernobyl et al. Russian Woodpecker won the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance in 2015. I watched it on Vimeo for 99 cents, and I felt supported.
I feel supported as I email with my father, hear his analysis and heartbreak, and as I read your accounts of wars in your history. We are like that, built to fight. Is there such a thing as fighting for good?
My friend, Kansho, gave a dharma talk (not yet posted, will link when it's ready). He spoke of of the danger of making meaning and also the danger of abandoning it. A bomb is a bomb is a...
I am grateful to this sangha and our teachers for holding our face to the fire, and especially for the way that art in its many forms calls us to witness, to hold each other, no matter what. As it is.
March 2, 2022
* Here I learned the term: weaponized interdependence. no modifiers needed.
no I don't have permission from the NYTimes to use this picThis morning at the Zendo our host riffed on a quote she said was erroneously attributed to Trotsky: you may not be interested in war but it is interested in you. And then she encouraged at one ment, atonement, with all the players. I am the wounded pride. I am the mother with no home for my children. I am fear, rage, wailing, determination. 
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