Current e-VENTs

VENT  ing    in-VENT-ion    ad-VENT-ure

e-VENT- u-ally

No news to anyone,  but in these first two weeks of 201l, the breaking news has been overwhelmingly… depressing. (Heart) breaking news. Excruciating. 

Verse for universe: Carry your hearts in shatterproof jars / hold beneath the midnight stars / hush hush whoever you are/ be/still hope

Not that anyone needs reminding...but I'm going to VENT. 

From floods and tragic deaths in Australia to the shootings in Arizona, to a stabbing in Dartmouth, not to mention- no, I won't mention details here but it has to do with children hurting children. The violation of innocents.  

Verse for universe: Carry your hearts in shatterproof jars / hold beneath the midnight stars / hush hush whoever you are/ be/still hope

& there was the story of a single father of ten whose home burned down in Winnipeg. The teeth-scraping comments posted after the article made me think a lot about class and judgement and compassion or lack thereof. My own included.

& then there is Sudan  

Pakistan, Uganda

the plight of Haiti a year after  

refugee camps 

women raped

children sick

MADness. SADness. BADness? 

Woundedness.

So I remembered a poem about a women named Diana who suffered 'Death by Empathy'. Diana lives on the moon, looks down, ruminates. Asks how we still have “gall enough/ to call ourselves/ a human planet.    

********

I realize creating a blog/video about building a home is a luxury in this sadmad world and yes, another survival/thrival strategy. A diversion. Medicine. Yep. Narrative therapy. One more time, creating is a way to live in a world I might not want

to be in

if I let

sadmadness

in

too

deep

In a world that makes no sense to me, making nonsense has always made sense. Telling stories makes sense. Connecting makes sense. Children make sense. Writing makes sense.

Writing instead of writhing?  

Writing as All Righting ?  

Beat a drum. ( scream) On a trampoline. (scream)

Drumpoline. (Scream.)

Play music. Make music.

So. Life is mixed. And the first twelve days wasn't all bleak grim hopelessness.

I also: watched episodes of Extreme Makeover ( Yes, I do like those H&G channels ) and blubbered over an amazing  couple who fostered special needs children and lived in a trailer with ten. (Where do people like that come from?)

Also: had sneak preview of a terrific book on gardens bloom in my hands

cross-country skied

made snow angels

listened to CBC radio /heartened by the series on mental health issues on

THE CURRENT

learned of two upcoming marriages, one new baby

re-read a poem by Howard Thurman I love

a poem about the  work of Christmas just beginning. 

Yep, I sent up some prayers. Beams. Wishes. Whispers for Sad-glad-ness.

So on the home building front? The metaphors? Well, I discovered the word vent also refers to the slit in the back of a coat or a jacket. I digress. All is a digression. Writing /rewriting  building/re-building or in this case --- "re-route-ing".

We also discovered that before the wiring, which goes before the installation of insulation, ( I mean the upcoming art exhibition)  in what will e-VENT-ually be the family room, we had to re-route a vent. It’s not that the DDFM forgot, he just had his mind on other things.

First, we had to clean sawdust from cracks and then, well, watch and squirm? (Nowwearehome : Episode 2.) Maybe, smile a little? The Frenchman plays with words too.

********

Line of the week: We're too young to be old hippies and too old to be young hipsters.

Singer of the week: Mary Boyoi

Soup du (many) jour(s): Black Bean Leek and Turnip Stew

Quote du jour: "When you’re safe at home you wish you were having an ad-vent-ure, when you’re having an ad-vent-ure, you wish you were safe at home." ~ Thornton Wilder

Rebuttal:  Not necessarily. Sometimes home is not that safe. Sometimes the adventure is home. Sometimes you gotta VENT!