The weather today is not to be believed. T-shirt temps. Soft air. Bright sun.
A couple of merry little breezes running around in a game of frisbee golf.
This morning I cracked into My Life on the Road and oh dear lord, I somehow forgot that Gloria Steinem is, at heart, a writer.
This is where you will find me this weekend as I don’t know the last time I was so ready to sink into an autobiography.
She had me at hello.
from the prelude:
“We eat home-cooked food brought in trucks, sit on blankets around powwow grounds where dancers follow the heartbeat of drums, and watch Indian ponies as decorated as the dancers. When it rains, a rainbow stretches from can’t-see to can’t-see, and fields of wet sweet grass become as fragrant as gigantic flowers.”
from the introduction:
“We have to stop generalizing about ‘the American people’ as if were one homogeneous lump. I’m also now immune to politicians who say, “I’ve traveled the length and breadth of this great land, and I know . . ” I’ve traveled more than any of them, and I don’t know.
. . . As Robin Morgan wrote so wisely, “Hate generalizes, love specifies.” That’s what makes going on the road so important. It definitely specifies.”
It think this also explains my love of daily journaling, snapping photos and sharing them.
I don’t pretend to be anything but ordinary. My dogs are mutts. I live in a city rife with economic struggle. Home is a rather small, second floor apartment. There is nothing glamorous in any of it.
And yet, I love it so. I love it all. And paying attention, close attention, enlarges and expands what I gaze upon, which makes me love it more.
When you look at something, really sink in and look — when you align your energies with the object of your focus, more worlds open up. You begin to see the uniqueness in everything, which, as mentioned above, is the direct road to love.
follow the breadcrumbs, baby