{"id":14966,"date":"2017-09-09T12:20:00","date_gmt":"2017-09-09T16:20:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katrinakenison.com\/?p=14966"},"modified":"2017-09-09T12:20:00","modified_gmt":"2017-09-09T16:20:00","slug":"no-sides","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/no-sides\/","title":{"rendered":"no sides"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"The crickets sang in the grasses. They sang the song of summer\u2019s ending, a sad, monotonous song. \u201cSummer is over and gone,\u201d they sang. \u201cOver and gone, over and gone. Summer is dying, dying.\u201d The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last forever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year \u2014 the days when summer is changing into fall \u2014 the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change.<\/em>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ~ E. B. White,\u00a0Charlotte\u2019s Web<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"I<\/span>\u2019ve been listening to the crickets\u2019 warnings all afternoon, trying to accept the truth: summertime cannot last forever. \u00a0Much as I would love a hundred more days just like this one, there\u2019s no denying that change is in the air. From my \u201csummer office\u201d\u00a0 — an old blue chair on the screened porch — I have a view of mountains, garden, and sky.\u00a0 It\u2019s as serene a vista as any human being could hope to call home.\u00a0 There is not another person in sight and I\u2019ve allowed my computer screen to darken into sleep mode on the table in front of me. And yet distractions are plentiful.<\/p>\n

\"\"Bright, busy monarchs float from one purple verbena spire to another, and every few minutes I step outside to count them.\u00a0 Six at once today, more than I\u2019ve ever seen here at one time.\u00a0 A pair of bluebirds splash in the birdbath while woodpeckers and jays come and go from the feeder. A breeze rustles through the leaves, clouds slide by, bees hum, the sun slips behind the trees.\u00a0 As the day turns and the shadows lengthen, the cricket song intensifies, as if more and more insect musicians are finding their way into the field, tuning up their instruments, and joining the symphony.\u00a0 It\u2019s hard to get much writing done.<\/p>\n

Every year, my family teases me for mourning the end of summer even before the 4th<\/sup>\u00a0of July fireworks are over.\u00a0 I always want more \u2013 more dawn hikes up the mountain, more strawberries and blueberries and peaches to pick, more arugula and basil to cut from the garden, more swims in the pond, more dinners on the porch, more bouquets of cosmos and zinnias, more fires on the hilltop, more s\u2019mores eaten in the dark, more nights of deep sleep with all the windows open.<\/p>\n

\"\"And yet, all summer long we have had these things. We\u2019ve watched magnificent sunrises and sunsets, stood outside before bed gazing up at stars, tracked every phase of the moon as it\u2019s traveled across the sky.\u00a0 There were swims and walks, pies and cobblers and corn, candlelit dinners and countless bouquets.\u00a0 This year in the garden, my cosmos reseeded, poppy seeds scattered without much thought last fall produced a lavish display of lavender blooms all through July, marigolds thrived, and rain fell often.<\/p>\n

\"\"Our soul daughter Lauren came north to Boston for work and added in New Hampshire visits every time. Henry was home for a month before leaving for grad school in Cincinnati, and we drove to Maine for a perfect lobster roll and a walk by the ocean. Although Jack couldn\u2019t get here, the rest of us gathered for a raucous, wonderful family dinner in my parents\u2019 house on Bailey Island — a place so full of memories that to be there on a summer eve is to feel time collapse in upon itself, past, present and future colliding into one visceral breath of familiarity and longing and love. Here at home we have lingered around bonfires and roasted marshmallows and sent wish lanterns aloft, fueled by flames and silently bearing our hopes and dreams for peace into the night sky.<\/p>\n

\"\"D<\/span>aily, we are aware of just how much abundance our own ordinary life has offered of late.\u00a0 Daily, I am grateful. And, too, I\u2019m aware of a darker current running beneath each day\u2019s doings — a sadness and uncertainty that permeates even the simplest pleasure.<\/p>\n

The other morning, watching a video of a Houston family<\/strong><\/a> return to their devastated home, while sipping coffee in the comfort of my own safe kitchen, I struggled to make sense of the scale of the catastrophe in Texas \u2013 a catastrophe already supplanted by an even greater one bearing down on Florida as I type these words.<\/p>\n

For those of us far from harm\u2019s way, the scope of the dangers, the suffering, and the destruction are unfathomable. All day I\u2019ve been trying to imagine it. \u00a0What is it like to see your very world destroyed before your eyes? \u00a0I can watch TV and donate money for the victims and pray for the first responders.\u00a0 But these small gestures are nothing in the face of all that\u2019s happened, all that will happen, and all that needs to happen in order to set our battered world back on course.<\/p>\n

Trying to prepare people for the worst before Hurricane Harvey hit land, the National Weather Service predicted that storm would be \u201cbeyond anything ever experienced.\u201d\u00a0 Last night, talking to my sister-in-law on the phone in Florida, I heard the fear in her voice as she, alone in her house \u2013 far from the coastline, but in the path of Irma nonetheless — made her own preparations for living through yet another storm \u201cbeyond anything experienced.\u201d\u00a0 Later, watching the newscasters grope for words that might convey the scope and potential dangers of the latest hurricane, the word \u201cunprecedented\u201d was used for the second week in a row.\u00a0 Suddenly, it seems, \u201cunprecedented\u201d is happening with shocking regularity.\u00a0 And none of us, really, has any idea what to do.<\/p>\n

Fifty inches of rain fall.\u00a0 Chemical plants explode.\u00a0 Nuclear power stations are shut down. Every school in the state of Florida closes.\u00a0 Power is lost. Entire islands are rendered uninhabitable. Wild fires rage out west.\u00a0 An earthquake leaves dozens dead in Mexico.\u00a0 Countless homes and businesses are destroyed.\u00a0 Gas runs out, as does water, lumber, canned food, and time. Meanwhile, more storms gather strength off shore.<\/p>\n

Our weather has become cataclysmic, just as the scientists studying climate change have been predicting for years<\/strong><\/a>.\u00a0 It is one thing to hear those warnings.\u00a0 It is another to watch tragedy after tragedy unfold on the TV screen, scenes of animals and people fighting for their lives, immigrants forced to choose between drowning and deportation, thousands of homeless human beings wading through water and sifting through wreckage.\u00a0 And it is quite another thing altogether to actually live through any of this, to experience it directly.\u00a0 Honestly, I can hardly begin to comprehend it.\u00a0 At the same time, as a citizen of this country, I know that I must try.<\/p>\n

S<\/span>itting here on a perfectly beautiful summer afternoon, it occurs to me that the rumor of sadness and change E.B. White evoked so many years ago is in fact a much larger truth today, an ending not only to a summer season but also to a kind of innocence none of us can any longer afford to indulge. On the surface, here, now, my own life has not changed.\u00a0 But in our country, in our world, on the planet, there are indeed profound shifts underway.\u00a0 We can continue to allow politics to divide us, to allow poisonous rhetoric to substitute for scientific fact, intellectual honesty, and informed problem-solving — but we do so at our peril.<\/p>\n

Lately I\u2019ve been thinking more and more that the whole idea of \u201csides\u201d in any urgently needed conversation is both morally wrong and willfully dangerous.\u00a0 Deep down, don\u2019t we all know this? When it comes to our planet, not to mention our survival as a species, there are no sides.\u00a0 There are only human beings, human beings who must honor our interconnectedness with all of life, and who must find common ground and deep compassion for the earth and for one another if we are to save ourselves. History is not something that just happens to us. It is also made\u00a0by<\/em>\u00a0us — shaped by the choices we make, the stands we do or do not take, the knowledge we do or do not heed, the words we do or do not say, the painful truths we do or do not accept, the values we do or do not uphold.<\/p>\n

Perhaps what we need at this moment is to put our well-defended labels and prejudices aside.\u00a0 They have not served us anyway.\u00a0 No one benefits from the acrimony that divides Democrats from Republicans, left from right, liberals from conservatives.\u00a0 I wonder what would happen if, instead of raising angry voices against each other, we were to join forces and begin to demand that our leaders,\u00a0all<\/em>\u00a0of them, do what is right for our country, for our planet, for the animals and plants, and for each other.<\/p>\n

There was not much good news to be found in the paper this week, but I\u2019m heartened by an op-ed in the New York Times<\/strong><\/a> by Christina Todd Whitman. A Republican, the former governor of New Jersey and head of the EPA under George Bush, Whitman is, by her own admission, \u201cnot a part of the liberal resistance to the new administration.\u201d But she is a moral, thoughtful person with a healthy respect for facts. And, as such, she finds herself very much at odds with Donald Trump and his choice of Scott Pruitt to run the E.P.A.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe E.P.A is too important to treat like a reality TV show,\u201d she writes. \u201cPeople\u2019s lives and our country\u2019s resources are at stake.\u201d Exactly so.<\/p>\n

What would happen if each of us began speaking out for what we know to be true: our planet is in peril and we must work cooperatively to save it. \u00a0Together, we can replace partisan politics and point-scoring with courageous, creative problem solving.\u00a0 We can do the hard thing, instead of the expedient, pocket-lining, short-sighted party thing.<\/p>\n

Huge swaths of America, not to mention our island neighbors, are battered and bruised today.\u00a0 At this moment, millions are homeless, while millions more are evacuating or hunkered down awaiting imminent destruction.\u00a0 While Irma heads for land, the Caribbean is on watch for Jose, the third major hurricane in as many weeks.\u00a0 In Mexico, the earthquake death toll rises.\u00a0 And yet, amid the devastation, there are also reasons to hope.<\/p>\n

It is in these moments of natural disaster that we show up not as partisans but as people, each of us committed to help in whatever way we can. \u00a0I was struck by the story<\/strong><\/a> of one young Mexican \u201cdreamer\u201d, a 31-year-old immigrant who would have been deported under Trump\u2019s plan to end DACA. He traveled 120 miles from his home to offer help to the people of Houston, only to lose his life trying to rescue stranded residents in a flooded apartment complex. \u00a0A reminder to the rest of us: \u00a0there are no sides.<\/p>\n

From coast to coast, we are opening our wallets, writing checks, sending truckloads of hay and dog food, clothing and diapers and groceries. \u00a0Perhaps, too, we are finally ready to face the inconvenient truth: Life as we have taken it for granted on this earth is already over.\u00a0 In the months to come, as tough decisions are made about what is sustainable now, something new will take its place.\u00a0 Whether that new way of inhabiting our world will contribute to the healing of our planet or degrade it even further is up to us.\u00a0 But if we are to choose the healing path then we must also be willing to travel that road as one people. And we must do so by placing a higher value on the health of the earth as a whole than we currently place on American power, political party, wealth, or expedience.<\/p>\n

\"\"A<\/span>s I\u2019ve been sitting here this afternoon, the day has changed, from balmy sunshine to cool and dark. \u00a0Storm clouds have rolled in over the mountains and a sudden shower is bringing a brief, welcome rain to the garden.\u00a0 At this moment, there is a rainbow arcing across the sky. And so, looking out at this landscape I love so deeply, I find myself circling back to gratitude for what is, gratitude that is, as always now, inextricably intertwined with concern for what also is.\u00a0\u00a0 We live in anxious times.<\/p>\n

Let us not give in to or turn away from this anxiety, but transform it into hope. \u00a0Let us engage with open minds and hearts in the hardest of conversations.\u00a0 Let’s read the writers and scientists who challenge our thinking.\u00a0 Let’s learn more and more, step out of our preconceptions and judgments, and then show up and find a way to make a difference. And, at the same time, let us remain awake to the small beauties and astonishments of our own ordinary days.\u00a0 Our survival depends on this — a sense of wonder, a profound respect for the fragility of all that we cherish and, too, an unwavering awareness that we\u2019re in this together.\u00a0 It\u2019s time to listen closely to the crickets\u2019 song, to heed their insistent rumors of sadness and change.\u00a0 They are singing, after all, to you and me.\u00a0 As poet David Whyte has written, \u201cYour great mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/h3>\n
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good works<\/strong><\/span><\/h3>\n

If you are wondering where your donations to hurricane relief will do the most good, consider supporting the efforts of Team Rubicon<\/strong>, a dedicated group of veterans who are skilled in first response and highly organized. My yoga teacher worked closely with them in New York after Hurricane Sandy and recommends them highly. \u00a0You can learn more here<\/strong><\/a>.<\/p>\n

There are already politicians from both parties in Washington who are more committed to solving problems than to scoring wins. Cooperation doesn’t make headlines, but it can make headway. \u00a0A reader introduced me to the group No Labels<\/strong>. \u00a0Check them out here<\/strong><\/a>.<\/p>\n

On Sunday, Sept. 24, I will join Team Diane<\/strong> (and thousands of others!) to walk 26.2 miles to raise money for ovarian cancer research. \u00a0Seven years after my dear friend died at 55, I remain committed to this cause, in part because I know that every dollar we contribute goes directly to her doctor’s cutting-edge team of researchers at Dana Farber. \u00a0If you would like to know more, visit my page here<\/strong><\/a>. We are all digging deep these days. \u00a0That said, I am enormously grateful for your support — both in dollars and in good vibes as I try to get in shape to go the distance. \u00a0(To those of you have already made donations, thank you<\/em>. \u00a0Handwritten letter to follow!)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Save<\/span>Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span>Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span>Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span>Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span>Save<\/span><\/p>\n

Save<\/span>Save<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The crickets sang in the grasses. They sang the song of summer\u2019s ending, a sad, monotonous song. \u201cSummer is over and gone,\u201d they sang. \u201cOver and gone, over and gone. Summer is dying, dying.\u201d The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last forever. Even on the most beautiful days […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15183,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[25,30,12,14],"tags":[115,198,222,340,466],"class_list":{"0":"post-14966","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-courage","8":"category-gratitude","9":"category-politics","10":"category-soul-work","11":"tag-change-2","12":"tag-gratitude-2","13":"tag-hurricane","14":"tag-politics","15":"tag-weather","16":"entry"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/600x600.png?fit=600%2C600","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14966","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14966"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14966\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14966"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14966"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14966"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}