My husband: “Oh yeah. When did that happen?”
Me: “I think that was 2014.”
Have you ever had a conversation like that and the same year keeps coming up? Sometimes I think my whole life was crammed into 2014 — but that’s me at 65.
Going through my archives, recently, I ironically found a folder titled “2014 Squared.”
Just a handful of images taken in one year.
Remember when everyone (well, maybe not everyone) was obsessed with the look of their Instagram and all the cool photographers or those of us trying to hang onto the back of the IG ship determined to look like a photographer — put their images into squares? I tried it in 2014 — then I gave up. Who said I needed to do that?
Instagram was swallowing the gram.
A few weeks ago I had a nightmare. Thousands of voices talking to me in my sleep. Faces, places, objects — distorted. From dog antics (mostly corgis), to cats singing, old people dancing, an old spouse sharing a million music videos, “listen to this” (noooooo. not again!), sentimental stories, inventions, kitchen hacks, empty nesters doing tricks, athletes spinning, young people welcoming me to vintage hotels (puff that pillow, ski that slope! try that cocktail!), secret underground discoveries, insane artists doing insane things, etc., I thought I was going crazy.
I finally went vertical with Instagram.
And walked away.
But, in all honesty, I loved finding this folder. It’s a squared walk through my life with multiple cameras (digital, film and iPhone 5 with a circular “Moment” lens) from West to East Coast.
I loved hard. Laughed more. Multi-tasked up the ying-yang. Dropped everything to help. Felt secure enough to engage in a conversation. Grieved losses and celebrated wins. I worked really hard and held onto the child inside of me. The present was exciting and so was the future.
We live in the same world as 2014. Except my hair.
Every day I tell myself — it’s up to me how I deal with the layers of my heart that were damaged in 2020. I remember saying this as we tried to overcome. Still overcoming…. “Joy walks hand in hand with grief.”
It just “is.”
So we choose the Hand of joy and gratitude — as much as possible.
As Mark Twain put it, “history doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.
You name it. It rhymes.
Political hypocritical
power and division
indecision, no vision
human suffering
leaders shuffling
money for
the scummy
disparity, inequality
casual frivolity
royal scandal
disentangle
war crimes
in these times
history rhymes
undermines
human discourse
follow the source
learn what's true
your life in review
the bird sings
LOVE wins
It was a good year.
ox
Music: “Take Five” — and — “In Your Own Sweet Way” by Dave Brubeck
