Crazy People
You know, April may begin by celebrating foolery but I think it would more aptly be called the month of crazy insanity. Yes, I know that is redundant but so many other things these days are that I feel it is sort of a theme or something. Besides, crazy alone just isn't as dramatic or forceful as I think it needs to be to properly term what happens to people during the spring shift. I mean, come on! Look at the news - there are anniversaries of every horror you can imagine in April. After you're done being horrified, you can find some downright silly crazy insanity as well. Sadly, that sort of fear bearing and perpetuation of inequality for some and presumed righteousness for others isn't contained to one special month - isn't anybody else embarrassed at how slowly we are trending toward embracing diversity and striving for equality for all? Still, April does seem to pump up the volume on those who are standing tall on their soap boxes. They need to move to Maine - where spring is not empowering, but a season of trial. Where gray days are occasionally dotted with sadistically inspiring rainbows and sunny afternoons that can whip you and bring you down with a fuuurrrreeeeezzzing cold night that unabashedly kills off any growth - even those tiny tender spring buds that you were embracing just the day before - holding to hope that winter is soon a memory. They need someone to polish their soap boxes with lard because, you know, nothing humbles you like walking along with a smile on your face and then slipping and falling on your butt in the mud. They need to see that beauty goes way deeper than the outer shell, that what's fair for some should be fair for all, and that even the Queen needs a hug from time to time. Yeah, I like to think of spring in Maine as a meditative practice in humility. And, I stay home alot - as I only have 2 good pairs of jeans and you can only fall so many times before the mud stays through even the meanest washings.
So it takes something pretty special to drag me away from seedling starting (oh, how I long for the garden this summer), from crazy spring happenings on the farm, and from the sanctuary that is my wheel and some happy love surging fiber to spin. Thing 1 and I ventured out this weekend to attend this amazing woman's concert. Woot! Talk about a strong woman who knows how to bend like the willow, change on the wind, and keep energy, hope, and the mother bear spirit alive! Red Letter Year is a phenomenal album but made even better by seeing her live and bubbling with power. It was soo worth the venturing out into crazy land. Even the guy who parks down the street from any seemingly liberal or non-religious venue with his ugly signs and hateful propaganda couldn't phase us that night - we were riding on the wings of some strong girl rocking fumes. If you don't believe me, ask the huscreature - who happened to say something about feminism without thinking first and had the vivid (and apparently scarring) experience of both his wife and his 16 year old daughter cat clawing him slowly to death with their venomous gazes until a full apology was extorted and a reasonable explanation of his remark was accepted.
I wish I was going to this but, alas, I am not. But, if you're able or in the area - it's a show I think one would be crazy to miss. And, just because I know I'll be just returning from the Spring Fling and may forget the day - Happy Birthday Pete!
In case you thought this post was going to be some long testament of my leftly slanting hippie tree huggin feminist ways, well it is. But, there was another power carrying my feet along the 6 blocks we had to scale in 5 minutes to get in the door in time and, wouldn't you know it - it had a bit of girl rocking power in it as well - it was these handspun 'Pandora' batts that I knit into Cat Bordhi's (another totally rocking woman)book - the spiraling corialis socks. Oober squishy, dazzling, comfy, and slightly empowering - they fit right in with my muddy jeans and leather jacket - LOL. It is good that being a fashion statement has just never appealed to me.
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