RandomBliss: The Dissolution of Fear

A mum in our front yard.

Listening to: I can't help it -- I love this, especially the scene at 54 seconds.

Bliss: The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the air is warming. Could the weather any more mimic my feelings right now?

When I was very small, we lived in Philadelphia on the Naval Base. I loved it there. Not understanding the military in any way whatsoever, I knew one thing -- that a Naval Base felt like a large family. There was always someone to play with, something to do. A picnic. An impromptu ball game. The river's edge to ride my bike along.

Another of my favorite things about living there was the amazing field trips I got to go on in school. We were not tortured by trips to the local history museum comprised of two rooms of boring! No, this was Philadelphia.

One year, we went to the historic district. Sure some of this was yawn-inducing to a seven year old, but there were two things that were not: the Liberty Bell and Betsy Ross' house.

I loved that Liberty Bell. My partner was recently in Philadelphia for some business and she brought me back a small replica. I love it still.

And I loved Betsy Ross' house and I loved...the flag.

Yes, the flag.

I'm pretty sure that many of you reading this understand why I write it like that.

The ideas of liberty and justice over the past decade (and more) have become a sort of joke in my mind. A cruel, painful joke, at that.

On flag day, when neighbors hang their stars and stripes, I have been a bit repulsed, thinking about hanging a Canadian flag or a French flag...anything but this, our flag that seems to have come to represent bullying and tyranny and ignorance.

As a friend just pointed out to me, the current administration and his ilk have turned patriotism into fascism.

Yes, exactly.

It must be a whole lot like so many Germans felt as Hitler rose to power. To stand by and watch, helpless, as your country and its ideals are co-opted by people who want them for nothing more than power.

But Tuesday night, as we watched and watched, my partner turned to me and said:

"I almost feel like hanging a flag out now."

Didn't she hit the nail on the head?

Wednesday morning, I woke and got on the bus and went to Starbucks, where I ran into someone as happy as me, and we stood and talked and almost cried.

I took my latte and walked down the hill toward the blue lake to the library and realized that I felt...relief...free...light.

What was missing? What had happened?

And then I got it: I had been living in so much fear, an ocean of fear, under the drowning water of fear for so many years that I had not realized I was holding my breath.

And Wednesday morning, I was breathing.

I was no longer afraid of my own country.

No longer afraid of what we were possibly going to do to the world next -- whether militarily or environmentally.

No longer afraid that someone would be in office who would like to make, ultimately, my partner and I illegal.

No longer afraid of the elevation of ignorance and hatred and the degradation of the intellect and tolerance.

I was once again proud.

And now only if we can take Christianity back from the clutches of these same people. These people who have deformed it into a religion of righteousness, a religion that I am pretty sure the hooker-hugging, hippie known as Jesus would never recognize.