a gal has to shake things
up a bit.
can't actually walk in
other people's shoes, she can
at least experiment with wearing her
own in new & different places.
Or, perhaps, not wear
any at all.
out, for example,
that feeling cold wet leaves
beneath your toes while staring at
your camera is quite
these experiences this past
week, because while those in power
continue to belittle women's voices, & the
voices of those without power, I
struggle to find
like so many past
beliefs is gone, blowing
in the wind, beautiful but not
recline on a
wood pile, wearing
those cool black boots from
The Pink Alligator & a black shirt
dress from Revolution.
It all feels quite
step in my
own shoes brings
me closer to what I love --
finding balance & power at the landfill
& in my compost pile, each photograph transforming
the discord & pain I feel in the world
around me into something
filled with coffee, sits on
the coffee grinds from which it came,
connected and real. In times
like this, it helps to
how powerful I felt
when we first installed our
solar panels in 2010. For less than
the cost of most new cars, we could actually
generate power - - 56,000 Kwh to date, in fact. So
I created this self portrait, wearing those
same black boots & holding a mug
of coffee made by a good
this is real
too. So after the
photo shoot at the panels,
I filled in my ballot & delivered it
to Town Hall, feeling very very powerful.
I hope that on November 3, 2020 you will vote
as if your life & the lives of your children's
children's great grandchildren
depended on it.
here's the deal.
If you can, do. If you
believe in your power, you
can generate power, not just with
solar panels and your vote, but with the
very core of who you are. I'm a mover & maker,
so I learned to embroider so that I could
share Whitman's poem, This
Compost, and the oh
so powerful final
Now I am terrified at the earth, it is that calm and patient,
It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions,
It turns harmless and stainless on its axis,
with such endless successions of diseased waste,
It distills such exquisite winds out of such infused fetor,
It renews with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous crops,
It gives such divine materials and accepts such leavings from [us all].
-Walt Whitman, This Compost (From Leaves of Grass)
is the operative
word. Like all this stuff
about demitasse & cotillion dresses
& going deeper into who we are & what we
believe. It's so much easier to
explore when feeling
of what might
happen this week? Be a
tree & remember, if you can, do.
Connect with the earth.
Stand tall. Be
Evelyn R. Swett
reframing the narrative in community and with myself, finding transformation and joy in the mess of it all
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