Episode 5 Wake-up Call!

Last week in Florida we all got a blaring wake-up call. Yes, I’m talking about that 4:46 AM shrieking test of the emergency announcement system. Like most people, the call jolted me upright, seriously depriving me of that last golden hour of sleep. No model 20 for me. Damn.

But it also felt like an apt metaphor for so many more things. Years ago, I was super politically involved. I watched hours of news tv, read the paper almost daily, I paid attention. I attended political rallies. I was there when Clinton(him) and Gore spoke to a receptive crowd in Gainesville, FL. I was all in. I mean, all the fuck in.

When we moved to Wellington, the political drive didn’t stop. I passed out pamphlets, door to door, hoping to reach the hearts and minds of my fellow village citizens. My parents babysat for us so that I could do that work while my husband worked for Move On! We watched, heartbroken as George W. Bush defeated Al Gore. Only did he? I mean, those Palm Beach County votes going Bush? Nobody believed it. But we didn’t riot. We didn’t storm The Capital. We shook our heads and kept going with our lives. The kids had sports to play, dancing to do, concerts to perform. We weren’t happy with the results, but despite some overhyped fear of the future, that meteorite never hit. We marched on.

Then my mother died. Two years later my father did. Almost to the day. Then we lost JKR’s parents. Along the way, I lost three close friends. Seminal friends. One from high school, one from college. One from my writing group. This past month one of JKR’s brothers in recovery lost his short but brutal battle with cancer. The grief was immediate, astonishing, and unrelenting, as most grief is.

As I suffered the blows and the deep sadness, I stopped being able to watch news. My heart had been broken many times and I needed a sabbatical from all things terrible. Politics is not usually fun times. So I tuned out.

I know I’ve said this before on post about Chasing Happy that I am pathologically able to bury the past. To forget shit that upsets me. To tune out the noise and tune in on the content that drives me, makes me feel informed, and lifts me, like this Substack post from Helena Fitzgerald’s newsletter, Griefbacon about spring re-awakening. But that wake-up call, much like the blaring sound of the emergency announcement system-it stirred me, not just out of sleep, but out of apathy. Out of the belief that when all is left alone, it will sort itself out. Don’t get me wrong, you can’t be in recovery without believing that G-d has a plan and his will be done(whoever your higher power is).

But I also believe that we must pay attention. Call to order and call to action. We need to understand that it is selfish to purposely look away from another person’s suffering. Even if you are just taking a much-needed time out. At some point you need to get suited up, strap on your helmet, take your last sip of Gatorade (Go Gators), and get on the field.

I started to wake up when Roe v Wade was overturned. A beast inside me growled. My dragon raised its head, looked around and lit shit up. (an homage to my book The Homecoming). Then when Mr. Desantis’ stacked Florida House passed increasingly terrifyingly fear mongering bills against people in the LGBTQ population, in addition to passing a restrictive as fuck abortion bill that will have terrible and dangerous ramifications for women in my state, my dragon stood on its hind legs, sharpened its gaze and took flight, looking to burn this place down.

But is that the answer? Is going for the people we don’t agree with, the people who take aim at people I love the only way? It’s part of it, sure. I mean, who doesn’t want to troll Desickness and his evil lieges, who doesn’t want to scream into the abyss, pound our chests, grab our arsenal, and make them pay? I mean, I’m actually asking, who’s with me?

But it’s a short-term solution, for sure. Vengeance feels good. It’s the thing of fantasies. But I postulate that in addition to stepping out, stepping up, and campaigning for change, maybe we can also try something else. Maybe, just maybe we can inch people towards understanding instead. Toward empathy. Or at the very least, away from hate.  

I try to do that with my books and my writing.

I try to shed light on despair and humbly offer a solution. And here’s the thing, you don’t have to even read my books to get the very clear message-the only thing you can do to repair this world (Tikkun Olam), which my religion demands that I do, is love. Love strongly. Love, forsaking all the fear. Love with all the desperation in your damaged heart. On your knees if you kneel when you pray, or in your hand that grasps the fringes on your tallit, or in your mind as you meditate and find the place where you ask the deep questions, the akaschic field- knowing you won’t get the answers, because (cue the Wizard of Oz), the answer was here all the time. (Dollface episode) Love everyone. Your enemy. Your friend. The person who lives on your block that you never see. Maybe especially them. Love the kids who lie to your face. The ones who do stupid wretched things. Love the birds that wake you and shit on your car. Love the cats and the squirrels and the bats. Love the insects(I know, but…). Love the fuck out of all of it. Love the ones who hurt you. Love the ones you must leave. Love the ones who destroy you. The one that saves you. Love the stupid, small minded, impossible to love people. All of them. Because otherwise hate wins. And when hate wins, then mistrust multiplies. Fear based living does not help anyone. We give into our internal biases. We feel wretched. We opt out. We disappear, maybe just when someone needs us the most. Don’t do that. Be here. Stay. It’s what my parents would want. What my late friends would want. What a certain pirate alcoholic would definitely want.

 Do good. Often.

So many studies say that when we help others, our own feel-good receptors get a huge boost. Want proof? Check out this Ted Talk by Elizabeth Dunn. She talks about how being good to others is self-love. Maybe even a little self-serving. Perfect. Do that. Be that. Preach that. We all get better when we are all better. True story.

Wake up, people. humanity needs you. It doesn’t take a blaring phone call in the early morning hours to remind us. Or the loss of beautiful, complicated, damaged, generous, loving people to awaken the spark inside us that wants to do better. We need to heed the whisper from our spirits and ancestors that life is indeed fragile and we should make the best of the short time we’ve been given. Carpe Diem, motherfuckers.

Live. Love. Lift. If we can do that, we can honor the ones we’ve loved and lost while helping those who have been left behind.

If you still want to entertain your revenge fantasies, go see John Wick Chapter 4. Really fantastic way to watch the bad guys lose.

Or if you want a quick pick-me-up, why not try this overly awesome product Prep+ Prime Fix+Setting Spray. It really does put a pretty face on things. Need more? I’m trying this new coffee for my home cold brew from Bones Coffee Company and I’m really excited to see if I like it. I’ll let you know! My birthday is coming up next week so I might indulge in some dark chocolate goodies from Kilwins. This particular Kilwins is tied in with my landing my agent story. It's been almost nine years since I signed with Nicole Resciniti. Time definitely flies. Speaking of my agent, I’ll be turning in my latest story (most likely on my birthday). That feels kind of fantastic, since just last month I didn’t think I’d be able to fix it until a long pep talk from Nic. Agent pep talks are the best. Especially from my agent.

Need more sunshine in your life?  Make this lemon salad dressing from Emily Nunn’s Department of Salad newsletter. Finally, one small reading recommendation-I recently renewed my subscription to Vogue and I’ve never been happier. The newest issue just landed in my snail mailbox so that means I’ll be treating myself to time in my chair (after my writing is finished), flipping through the glossy pages, reading the elevated content, and dreaming of owning those $1250 pair of faux leather pants.

The point is, we need to all be present as we navigate the bullshit that is constantly being thrown at us by the extremist loving politicians. We need balance. Decorum. Progress. And to turn a blind eye is not only not helpful, it’s radically dangerous.

See you next week when I finally stay on schedule and write about false beliefs and why they make your own personal narrative infinitely harder while making the story that you are writing(and your characters) significantly more interesting and emotionally satisfying.