An Artist’s Date on the Linear Trail

This week’s Artist’s Date – solo adventures meant to inspire creativity – was to an old haunt of mine: a linear park perfect for walking, jogging, cycling and rollerblading.

IMG_20170603_140445.jpg

I used to come here all the time. First, when I was dating my husband, we’d come here to rollerblade or bike. We did a lot of sporty outdoors stuff when we were wooing one another. Now, not so much.

Then, when I used to work at home a lot for my old job, I’d come here for a rollerblading workout after work or during my lunch break.

Over the years I’ve walked here with a pregnant friend, walked with her and her infant daughter in a stroller, walked my dog, and just walked.

The last time I was here was a couple of days after the US election when I was despondent about Donald Trump’s election victory. I wanted to go someplace where I could really think, alone. I am not a very political person. I became a political person that day.

The election encouraged a lot of soul-searching in me. I used to be a journalist, so while I am very well informed about the issues, I rarely have an opinion about them. I can see both sides, and I avoid getting caught up in day to day debates. I read widely, I always vote, but I don’t belong to a political party. Even though I have not been a journalist for years, I had always told myself that I should remain neutral in case I ever want to get into journalism again.

Who am I kidding?

I felt physically ill about Trump. I couldn’t sleep. I would think about him and my heart would race with anxiety. I had never had such a reaction in my life. I realized that I have been very fortunate in my life, selfish and privileged.  I realized I need to do more to share with others, to stand up for what I believe in, to educate myself about issues and speak my mind.

I have tried to do that. It’s hard and sometimes depressing. It’s easier just to avoid the newspaper and talk about fun things and laugh at the Trump impersonation on “Saturday Night Live.” But then reality sets in and I get angry and anxious again.

On my Artist’s Date yesterday I thought about this as I rollerbladed along. I have done several political things I have never done in my life. I marched in protests, wrote letters to congress members, donated money to political causes, signed petitions, and spoke out whenever I felt I should. I have alienated some relatives and a few friends, but I feel good overall. It’s time to pick sides.

I also thought yesterday about what to do next. I am going to give a speech about civil liberties, which have been under siege under Trump. I crafted out the speech in my mind, and next I need to write it and practice it. I’ll give the speech before an audience at my Toastmasters club later this month. It’s my way of informing people, giving back and letting people know where I stand.

The Artist’s Date has been an excellent boost to my thought processes and desires for action so far. Where should I go next week?

Advertisements

First Time for EverythingI

I have never been in a protest march in my life. Even in college, when classmates would gather to demonstrate against whatever or for whatever, I’d skulk around the fringes or hide in the library.

I was studying journalism and I became a journalist.I was convinced I needed to maintain objectivity, so learned to set personal opinion aside. Sometimes, I honestly didn’t have an opinion at all, and often my opinions were mixed anyway. I could not understand why some people were so angry and upset. I am not a fearful person, and so I guessed that it was fear that really motivated these protesters – fear that something bad would happen, or fear that something good would be taken away.

I attended the Women’s March on Trump Tower yesterday and came to feel the fear first-hand. Since the day Trump was elected, I have felt a knot in the pit of my stomach. It hasn’t gone away. When we was sworn in as president Friday, I downed some Maalox and got back to work, then finished preparations for the march Saturday.

At the march, fear met joy head-on and got run over by a pink tide. I marched with women who made uteri out of cardboard and women who drew fallopian  tubes on their pink pants. I marched with women young enough to be my daughters and women older than my grandmother, some inching along with canes and walkers. There were men, too – plenty of them.

No one got violent, no one got arrested, no one so much as stepped accidentally on someone’s foot without saying “sorry” or “excuse me.” Here is the scene outside Grand Central Terminal, the main train station in New York:

IMG_20170121_143126972.jpg

Lots of people made signs. I met up with a guy dressed as Gandalf whose sign said “You shall not pass!” Of all the signs I saw, this was my favorite:

IMG_20170121_160646565.jpg

I couldn’t catch up with the young woman holding it. I hope she doesn’t mind that I shared her artwork with everyone.

Today I am tired an achy and a bit anxious again. Yesterday we had our fun. Today the real work begins.

“What are you going to do tomorrow, and the next day, and the rest of your life?”