Everyday my mom calls and sweetly asks what I’m doing.
Sweetly I answer, “Nothing.”
She responds, “I’m doing nothing too.”
And then we both sort of laugh because, well, what can you really do in a pandemic?
But today I added, “I have nothing new to tell you but thankfully I have nothing bad to tell you either. We’re both very lucky.”
She agreed.
Although I get bored and a bit lonely at times, I’m grateful to be healthy. And to have food. And for the roof over my head. And for my mom who checks in on me.
And I’m grateful for anyone who takes the time to read these words. And even more grateful if these words remind anyone to be a little grateful for just a few moments today.
To see trump’s three Supreme Court justices today makes me so physically sick. They are a malignant stain on our county. Slow burning cancerous tumors grown from greed, racism, anti-semitism, white supremacy and anti-intellectualism.
And I know I will be judged for saying this, accused once again for being unloving and for being a phony spiritual leader, but I truly hate them. Hate.
And whoever judges me for this can go fuck themselves. You’re a joke to me.
With that, I also hate every single person who enabled this. Everyone single person who voted for trump either time. Everyone who voted for any republican in the last four years (and that’s being gracious). My hate for them is violent and volcanic.
Why am I taking the time to write this when we are such a great moment? The moment when Good prevails over Evil?
To let you know that it’s okay to feel these feelings. To let you know that it’s okay to sidestep anyone who tries to shame you for feeling this way.
We feel this way because we are repelled by injustice. We feel this way because our hearts hurt from the last four years and for what we almost lost.
Friends, I am also writing this to tell you, and to remind myself, that although I hate them, thoroughly, I know it wasn’t their fault.
Unfortunately and fortunately, each of us are doing the best we can in every moment.
And I am just so grateful to be lucky enough to not be like them. I am so lucky and grateful to be fueled by kindness. To be fueled by the fact that we are all connected. So grateful to see myself and the divine in all graced with life.
And I am so grateful that you are lucky enough to be so similar. And we are here together, literally, right now.
We are love. And sometimes love is tough.
But love heals.
Thank you, sincerely, for being with me for the last four years…
love/thanks, gb
P.S. I was just on my knees, crying, when Biden was sworn in.
I think we all need to take it easy a bit with these “THANK GOD 2020 IS OVER” memes and messages.
We honesty have no idea what 2021 can bring with this pandemic. The virus is already mutating beyond our control and 3000 Americans are dying everyday with 200,000 more of us getting infected. And there isn’t nearly enough vaccines available.
We might soon be praying for how good we had it back in 2020.
With that, I know I’m always the one looking at the bright side and saying good will prevail. Which I know it still will. It’s already happening. But I assure you- this goddamn pandemic doesn’t care that the ball is about to drop in NYC.
So, the point of this message is this – continue to wear masks. Even more so now. Social distance like your life depends on it. Like the lives of your loved ones depends on it. Like the lives of your neighbors depends on it. Because it does. It unquestionably does.
And while I have you here for a few brief moments, I’d like take this time to truly wish everyone a happy and safe new year. I’m sending love to you and your families right this second. Yes, you. The person reading this right now.
Lastly, I often hear people say, “I’m going to be as careful as I can but I’m not going to let Covid stop me from living my life.”
I get it. A strong positive attitude. But at this point, that strong positive attitude is hubris. Better yet, it’s stupid. And selfish.
It’s high time we all grow up. Become actual adults. And take this as serious as it actually is.
Please know I’m sorry if I have just insulted you. But only a little sorry. Like, microscopically.
If there is a realm beyond physical death, I think my dad would dig that I listen to his old jazz records.
When I hold them in my hands, I think about how he once held them. And I think about how young he once was. And how young I once was. And how young I still feel.
My dad died eight years ago today but trust me when I tell you that I’m sure as hell not posting about it to get attention on social media.
I’m posting it so YOU pay attention.
To those who love you.
Because in an instant it can all change.
And then all you’ll be left with, but only if you’re extraordinary lucky, are voicemails you’ve saved from them. Voicemails you allow yourself to listen to only few times a year. Often through tears.
I’ve said this before, and thankfully I’ll never have to say it again, but on the morning after the trump “election” in 2016, I woke up feeling like Anne Frank.
Truly terrified.
And unfortunately, these four years have been exactly as bad as I knew they would be. With another four, they’d eventually be coming for me and my loved ones.
But now I will wake up tomorrow, free, and the American flag will no longer reek like the swastika.
I’m so relieved to have that burden of fear lifted.
I sincerely love you all. So please, let’s take a breath together.
Thank you for being with me throughout this horror.
thank you,
gb
P.S. And remember, a quarter of a million of us, so far, have lost their lives due to intentional negligence. So please wear your masks. Please be careful. Please look out for your loved ones and for your neighbors.
And earlier, while wallowing in the stink of my almost five decades that crept up on me like some sort of time jumping DeLorean ninja in the night, I unexpectedly heard my dad’s voice in my head. Saying what he always said when any of us complained about getting older on our birthdays.
“It’s better than the alternative.”
Just about the truest goddamn words ever. Because he’s been gone for more than a few years already, taken from this world horribly and too early, and I miss him terribly.
With that though, I must admit underneath my silly pity party, I fully know what a gift and privilege it is to simply be alive and healthy.
Alive and healthy with all of my needs taken care of for today.
And I think the best way to honor my ancestors who really toughed it out for me to get here would be to abide in gratefulness. Gratefulness for being alive and healthy with all of my needs taken care of, thankfully, for today.
I’ll do just that for the rest of this precious day to honor them and to honor myself because tomorrow sure is shit isn’t promised. Not to anyone.
So, to all of you reading this (and to everyone who isn’t) I’m sending love your way in this moment. And of course breathing with you as we speak.
love/thanks,
gb
P.S. I know sometimes, regardless of how old we get, we find ourselves still waiting for our lives to start. Wondering and worrying if they will ever before it’s too late. But I swear to god, if kindness is your set point, you’re already enough. More than enough. And if it isn’t your set point, you can easily start today. I promise you can. It’s who you’re intended to be. Just look inside yourself beneath the surface. You’ll find it. I promise. Peace.
At a park, sitting on a park bench, I feel such gratefulness for an ant stampeding across my notebook.
He soundlessly reminds me that we are both animated by the same, unseen mysterious force. A force that is precious, strong willed, and deserving of being sensed as sacred.
