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November 7, 2016 In leadership, life and the universe, philosophy By Patricia Saxton

Is it Over Yet? Surviving the 2016 Presidential Race.

Is it over yet? Man, this has been a doozy. I’m not sure what I want to say or how I want to say it, but something wants to be said. And I’m sure others have had similar thoughts, perhaps already shared out into the world. But we each have a voice, so I might as well use mine too.

The general gist of what I want to say has to do with coming together in the aftermath of what has been, without question in my lifetime, our dirtiest, most contentious presidential race. It’s been torturous. It’s been strange. It’s been mean-spirited. It’s been like watching a no-holds-barred professional wrestling match where the referees have either opted out or taken sides.

I wasn’t sure we could be more divided than we were 4, or even 8 years ago, but I was wrong. There’s a similar – perhaps worse? – level of animosity towards opposing frontrunners (both of whom also happen to be the most generally unpopular choices ever), and all too often towards those who support those candidates. People, largely on social media, can be vicious in their righteousness, with dialogue that’s condescending and non-productive. There’s little genuine conversation – but there is a lot of judgment. Friendships are damaged, families tense. Like-minds share pedestals with like-minds and pat themselves on the back for their better wisdom and condemnation of those they don’t understand.

I’m glad my parents aren’t here to witness this display and I’m really, really sad that this has been my daughter’s first presidential election experience. I’m appalled and embarrassed and can’t wait for the damn thing to be over.

But of course, every election comes with its good, bad and ugly. (This one just seems to have achieved new levels of ugly.) History repeatedly shows that it’s bound to get heated. Passions run high. This is why our mothers told us to never discuss politics or religion at the dinner table. And I would tend to agree – although it’s a shame, because, intellectually, it makes for fascinating conversation. The trouble is it usually deteriorates to something accusatory and utterly emotional. Perception rules the day alongside a seeming lack of intent to truly consider another point of view or do the extensive homework required to get a bigger, clearer, more detailed picture. And yet, how could we sift through it all even if we tried? Who has that kind of time? And who knows what’s truth or not? In today’s world we’re fed non-stop not only by the tv news, but by a huge and ever-expanding social media machine made of both organized groups and regular people laying claim to this or that, all shouting to have their voices heard – because, of course, they are right and you are wrong. Or maybe worse than wrong. (“How could they possibly…?”) So we hear what we choose to hear, we process, and some of it becomes belief.

Belief is a powerful thing; and it can take many forms. And once it sinks its hooks, it’s hard to change course or even allow the idea of an alternate course.

After tomorrow, though, it will be over. (Do I hear a Hallelujah?) The aftermath will be a country half glad, half angry. And here we have a chance – there is always a choice – to put aside our disagreements and be respectful to one another again. To not judge people who voted with their heart instead of their head or their head instead of their heart, or however wrong or skewed you think they are – and if there are issues one feels strongly about, find a way to work on them. A new head honcho at Pennsylvania Avenue doesn’t mean we put our heads in the sand for four years. If something’s important to you, get involved.

We should also keep in mind that a President is a leader, surrounded by a system of checks and balances. They don’t work in a vacuum. They are not a dictator with total power. Nor are they our parents and we their children. In this country, they’re elected to protect and defend our right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Remember that.

And remember that we really are all in this together. So let’s shake hands on November 9 and get back to the business of living side by side, neighbor to neighbor, friend to friend. Love in the heart, eyes open. Because this place we call home may not be perfect, but it’s pretty darn great, and worth our best efforts.

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September 11, 2016 In appreciation, design, history, leadership, life and the universe, philosophy By Patricia Saxton

September 11: Hope and Remembrance

At 9:00 a.m. on 9/11/01, I’d just come back from dropping my daughter at kindergarten. The sky was robin-egg blue, the air a perfect September calm. A neighbor screamed to me from her car, and the rest of the day was sheer horror.

Forty minutes away. Too close. Much too close.

That night we all gathered on my front lawn, a circle of candles and hearts and prayers.

You just don’t forget.

If anything good came from that awful day, it was that for at least a brief time we were one United States of America. We were all Americans. We all felt a pain in the pits of our stomachs, the lurching of our hearts, the constriction in our throats and tears in our eyes. We loved our neighbor, near and far, from cities to remote little towns, black, brown, white, yellow, red, gay, straight, male, female. We were family, wounded, and we grieved as one under our red, white and blue. We were proud, we were strong, we were honoring the brave and the lost and the taken. They were us, we were them. All across the country we were united by a devastation that reminded us that love, life, freedom – and each other – are valued beyond measure.

Our hearts softened towards each other – but I also think how sad that we couldn’t sustain that sense of camaraderie and pride when things calmed down. Routines reestablished. By necessity and will, we carried on. Yet within that carrying on, even while terror continues to loom like a disturbing alternative universe normal, we seemed to shift away from commonality and towards pockets of we are not them, they are not us. As if we can’t sustain loving our neighbor without sweeping tragedy to bring it about. (Weddings and funerals come to mind. Drama brings people together. Human nature?)

We argue on our right and left. We suffer politicians. I hear a lot of talk that doesn’t walk. I hear each news cycle replacing the last – yesterday’s shocking unanswered wrong overrun by today’s, and today’s by tomorrow’s. We numb. We medicate on electronics. Opinions aren’t debated, they’re spewed. We don’t listen. We don’t really see. The world is in shambles. We seem very divided. Something is wrong here.

But for one day, maybe just an hour, maybe only 10 minutes ~ we’ll remember 9/11 and that flood of love and hope and “don’t you dare” will fill us up. We’ll be a united family for 10 minutes. We’ll remember why we love this place and the people in it. And maybe, just maybe, we can nurture that love and hope and integrity a little longer? Might the foundational idea that we are a free people nourish and inspire us just a little longer? That it’s worth fighting for?

Can we recognize that there is goodness here and that yes, there’s also some very ugly, very dark scary shit in the world and it’s up to each one of us to know the difference and take up the torch right where we are with a battle cry to spread a little more light, a little more love, a little more courage?

There are some amazing people in this world, and I’m lucky to know several who take up that torch every day with all their hearts. We all know them. They are sincere. Let’s all be more sincere. Let’s honor the brave, the lost and taken with some blessings. Be the blessing in someone’s day. Be present. Be good.

And I had no idea this piece of writing was going to go the way it did, but I hope we can use this memory to remember that at the end of ever day we’re all in this together. At the base of the fallen towers let’s continue to plant hope, and water it well.

June 19, 2016 In appreciation, inspiration, intelligence, leadership By Patricia Saxton

Things My Father Taught Me

Arthur L. Saxton / 1918-2012

How to change a tire. How to balance a checkbook. How to pack a suitcase efficiently. That at one time a slide rule could solve almost any problem.

He taught me that weeds are best pulled close to the ground when the soil is damp and the moon is waning. Almost anything can be recycled and remade. Material things are overrated. Contribute something positive. Leave the world a better place for your having been there. Nothing is more meaningful than family and nothing more beautiful than the earth.

My father showed me practicality, patience and perseverance. He showed me modesty and humility. Loyalty. Honesty. Steadily standing for what you believe in.

He gave me his long legs and his sensible disposition. He gave me a weakness for potatoes, and all things fresh from the garden. He did not, however, give me his creative math genius, nor his pension for saving old nails ~ but he gave, by example, the meaning of the word “integrity”, and for that alone I am eternally grateful.

Here’s to you, Dad, and all the fathers who teach even half this stuff. The world is a better place because of you.

June 21, 2015 In appreciation, inspiration, intelligence, leadership By Patricia Saxton

Things My Father Taught Me

How to change a tire. How to balance a checkbook. How to pack a suitcase efficiently. That at one time a slide rule could solve almost any homework problem.

My father showed me practicality, patience and perseverance. He showed me modesty and humility. Loyalty. Honesty. Standing up for what you believe in.

He gave me his long legs and his sensible disposition. He gave me a weakness for potatoes, and all things fresh from the garden. He did not, however, give me his creative math genius, nor his pension for saving old nails ~ but I’m pretty sure if you looked in the dictionary for the meaning of the word “integrity”, you’d find his name. For that alone I am eternally grateful.

Here’s to you, Dad – and all the fathers who teach even half this stuff. The world is a better place because of you.

Because strawberry shortcake was your favorite dessert.

September 16, 2014 In appreciation, leadership, life and the universe, optimism By Patricia Saxton

Trusting

I’ve found it hard to post my usual posts lately, the ones about creating happiness, about the joys of art, writing and such, knowing, as we all do, about the pain, anguish and atrocities going on out there in the world. So I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge. These are severe times in many ways. Talking about painting seems somehow trite.

Yet we go back to our Facebook pages and homework and poetry writing and “what’s for dinner” because what’s out there is all too ugly to mentally sustain ~ and what the hell would we do anyway? Aren’t there Leaders to handle this kind of thing? Sadly, I see no leaders…. and then a troubling cycle of thought threatens to ensue, poised on all the madness.

The thing is, when it comes to the Really Big Stuff in the world, it’s as though I simply can’t process it fully. I can feel horrified. I can feel disgust. I can feel really, really disturbed. But I can’t fully engage. Maybe it’s a form of self-preservation – as if to think on it too hard and long, to dwell, is too intense an exercise. A debilitating merry-go-round of worry and fear. Contemplating ruined lives and sabotaged events is too heavy a weight.

Is it my artistic temperament? My sensitivity that can’t handle it? I’ll think, “but am I turning the other cheek?” Am I uncaring, or selfishly absorbed in “my own little world”? “Shouldn’t I be doing something?” Is it some kind of cosmic guilt, a tripped-up compassionate pulse that I should enjoy a good meal while thousands of people across the globe struggle in unthinkable situations? That I landed where I did in this life, and they did not?

But I always come back to 2 things: 1.) an eternal optimism I seem to have been born with (or maybe it was nurtured in, or both) and 2.) maybe I can do something and maybe I am doing something, even if it’s not measurably touching the great mass of humanity… by taking care of my corner, and spread light there. Because that’s what I feel I can do.

I was raised to believe (and I do believe) that it really does matter what you do in your own little corner of the world. (And this belief, you may already know, was the basis of my 52 Weeks of Peace book / series. It’s about what we can do as individuals, right here and right now. And if we all did…)

Fretting and stewing about world events, the disgraces of humanity that exist, the evil-doers, the lies and deceit and manipulation, is unproductive for me personally; nor does it serve anyone. It’s way bigger than me, and to go there with too much prolonged fervor only makes me feel powerless to help, filling a space with negativity and projecting dread where there could be light ~ and I operate SO MUCH BETTER from a place of light.

And God knows we need more light in this world.

When it comes to fretting and stewing about my own place in the world, or how the bills get paid and other earthly challenges we all face at one time or another, the same thing applies – I operate SO MUCH BETTER from a place of light.

Oh believe me, (and I know I’ve said this before and probably will again) I can worry like the best of them, but at some point I return to some sort of peace ~ because I have to. As if I’m wired that way. To have faith. In life. In love. In light. It’s my call to arms.

After years of practice, it’s almost become a type of daily surrender. Trusting. And so far, unless I’m deluding myself, it feels like the right course of action. We’ll see how it goes… Yes, I’ll continue to write and paint and share thoughts on happiness, because what is life without upliftment? ~ but in the meantime, for what it’s worth, my heart sends waves of hope to those in far greater need.

September 11, 2014 In appreciation, art, design, leadership, life and the universe, philosophy By Patricia Saxton

September 11: Hope and Remembrance

Forty minutes away. Too close. Much too close.

That night we all gathered on my front lawn, a circle of candles and hearts and prayers.

You just don’t forget.

If anything good came from that awful day, it was that for at least a brief time we were one United States of America. We were all Americans. We all felt a pain in the pits of our stomachs, the lurching of our hearts, the constriction in our throats and tears in our eyes. We loved our neighbor, near and far, from cities to remote little towns, black, brown, white, yellow, red, gay, straight, male, female. We were family, a wounded family, and we grieved as one. Red, white and blue became the new black. We were proud, we were strong, we were one, honoring the brave and the lost and the taken. They were us, we were them.

Our hearts may have softened towards each other, but I also think how sad that we couldn’t sustain that sense of pride and family. Things calmed down, we went about our routines. Fell back into old patterns. Terror still threatens this world of ours, and yet we fight our own small fights, our petty snits, our egos drowned in the latest trend, the latest news, the latest gossip, the latest celebrity sighting. As if we can’t sustain loving our neighbor without tragedy to bring it about. Oh, but that’s human nature. Weddings and funerals. Drama brings people together.

We argue on the right, on the left, and we suffer the idiocy of politicians. I hear a lot of talk that doesn’t walk. I hear each news cycle replacing the last. Like some strange reality show, yesterday’s unanswered wrong overrun by today’s, and today’s by tomorrow’s. We numb. We stay medicated on electronics. Opinions aren’t debated, they’re spewed. We don’t listen. We don’t really see. The world is in shambles. We seem very divided. Something is wrong here.

But for one day, maybe just an hour, maybe only 10 minutes ~ we’ll remember 9/11 and that flood of love and hope and “don’t you dare” will fill us up. We’ll be a family for 10 minutes. We’ll remember why we love this place and the people in it. But maybe, just maybe, we can nurture that love and hope and integrity a little longer? Might the foundational idea that we are a free people nourish and inspire us, just a little longer? That it’s worth fighting for?

Can we recognize that there is light and that yes, there is also some very ugly, very dark scary shit in the world and it’s up to each one of us to know the difference and take up the torch right where we are with a battle cry to spread a little more light, a little more love, a little more courage?

And I had no idea this piece of writing was going to go the way it did, but I hope we can use this memory to remember that at the end of the day we’re all in this together. At the base of the fallen towers let’s plant hope, and water it well.

July 3, 2014 In design, illustration, leadership, life and the universe, philosophy By Patricia Saxton

Celebrating America ~ With Eyes and Ears Open

Art by Kinuko Craft, from "Starts & Stripes"

Art by Kinuko Craft, from “Stars & Stripes”

(Note: I realized when I finished writing that this is a bit of a rant. Not a full-on, seething kind of rant; more a tempered one. Regardless, you’ve been warned, so bear with me ~ or not!)

I love my country. It’s home. Much of it is stunningly beautiful. It represents freedom, liberty, and opportunity; and comes with an intense desire to better oneself, to help others lift themselves up, to lend a hand when needed. We’re hard-workers with a fierce independent streak. (We’ve also got, in my opinion, the world’s best plumbing. Not to be sneered at!)

Sure, I may stray to my British and Scottish roots now and then, via my ridiculous love for tea or my way of slipping in and out of accents, or appreciating a certain dry humour (see? oops, that would be humor). I sometimes long for the large, open piazza’s found in European cities, and the marvel of living alongside history reaching back thousands of years instead of hundreds. Still, I’m glad to call America home. We’ve made our share of mistakes, but we are a good and generous people born from all around the world.

So I celebrate the 4^th of July with pride and gladness. It is, to me, the land of the free and the home of the brave.

But I am worried for us. Maybe it’s always been so ~ the way each generation worries about its youth ~ to be concerned about where the country is headed. Maybe it’s because news outlets and social media make everything so much more “in your face”; things we might have been oblivious to before. But maybe it’s valid to worry. There’s an awful lot on the table.

I have felt, for quite some time, a greater and greater divide growing amongst us ~ a divide which is proliferated by the media and polished off by our politicians (or maybe it’s the other way around). I find it extremely disturbing. It’s us or them, left or right, right or wrong, with each side cock sure of their stance. It becomes Righteous. Zealous. Fearful. Even Hateful.

These are highly charged times, igniting harsh debate – debates that are often shot down before they begin, because folks are so convinced of this or that, which of course doesn’t encourage intelligent conversation but instead shoves ideas aside where they stew with electric-like fervor.

I keep pretty mum on this kind of topic unless with trusted friends, and will most likely revert to that after this post. (This blog is a no-politics zone. Even this may too much!) But I will say that I feel we’re being manipulated on a grand scale. Before you shake your head yes, or even no, let’s remember we really don’t know – and if it’s true, we don’t know by whom or for what. We have our theories, we have bits and pieces of a massive puzzle, but I’m telling you this; it has not felt right ~ at all ~ and continues to feel worse. I’ll also say that ignorance can be bliss! But I worry that that bliss could find us in a place no one fathomed if we don’t pay attention.

I’m not talking about the emotional hot buttons that are used with increasingly rampancy as tools of persuasion, or to get votes or that turn you against your neighbor or family member who may feel otherwise. I’m not talking about who has what material thing when someone else does not. I’m talking about the grander element of personal freedom, and aspirations, and achieving greatness of your own accord in a country governed by leaders with principles who want to see you ~ and all of us as a whole ~ succeed, who will keep the roads and bridges in shape, and will fight with conviction and courage to uphold our freedoms.

So, with that larger picture in mind, this means reading articles from all points of view. Listening to opinions from all points of view. Watching news from all points of view. And it means you read, you listen and you watch, directly. Dig a little. Don’t base what “you hear” on what others say “they heard”. It’s all too easy. It’s all too convenient. It’s all too messy. And we’re all too busy being distracted by a million things, some worthy, some truly not at all.

This isn’t about specifics right here. I just ask that we be present and use our own fine brains. It can be a little tricky, because there’s “power in numbers” but there’s also “crowd mentality” where others are thinking for you. So I say, don’t be a voice in a chorus of voices unless you’ve done your due diligence. If you care about your freedom, as I care about mine; if you love this country, flaws and all, for all its glory, for all its beauty, for all its people; for all our hopes and dreams, for our children’s hopes and dreams ~ you will pay attention. Don’t let the magnificence that is the United States – that place you call home, that place that let’s you speak your mind and stand up for what you believe in and walk in protest and that sends every child to school and has kept us safe from harm ~ don’t let it slip away or be whisked or whittled away right in front of our eyes. Don’t submit to letting someone else make your decisions, or tell you that you can’t succeed without them or that someone knows what’s best for your child or what you can eat or not eat. Don’t even go there.

We are not the sins of our fathers, any more than Italians are all plundering Julius Caeser’s. We have lived and learned, and will keep on doing so. And right here and now is where we go from. Yes, there’s a co-mingling of deception, evasion and truth and it’s hard to take it all in, much less figure it out. And it’s all moving fast. This is the world of 10-minutes-ago being yesterday’s news. But yesterday’s news can have ramifications that last much, much longer. Pay attention!

Split or no split, division or no division, we’re still all in this together. And I believe that at the end of the day we all want basically the same freedom, liberty and justice for all. Please don’t fall asleep at the reality-show, America. Celebrate our birthday with joy and fireworks and commitment. If you think we should be like some other country, you can live there. If you live here and like it here, we may just have to fight to keep it strong.

p.s.: One thing that has kept me from falling into complete dread, came from watching the movie “Lincoln”. I was amazed at the contentious fighting, back-stabbing, hateful and divisive rhetoric between parties. Then again, we were in the middle of a civil war. And maybe those in positions of leadership have always been and will always be angry, aggressive and self-serving. Still, I’d rather pay attention than blindly follow. Maybe it’s just my genetic disposition (I am rather independently minded!) but I hope we’ll all keep our eyes and ears open.

June 15, 2014 In appreciation, inspiration, intelligence, leadership By Patricia Saxton

Things My Father Taught Me

How to change a tire. How to balance a checkbook. How to pack a suitcase efficiently. That at one time a slide rule could solve almost any homework problem.

He taught me that weeds are best pulled close to the ground when the soil is damp and the moon is waning. Almost anything can be recycled and remade. Material things are overrated. Contribute something positive. Try to leave the world a better place for your having been there. Nothing is more meaningful than family and nothing more beautiful than the earth.

My father showed me practicality, patience and perseverance. He showed me modesty and humility. Loyalty. Honesty. Standing up for what you believe in.

He gave me his long legs and his sensible disposition. He gave me a weakness for potatoes, and all things fresh from the garden. He did not, however, give me his creative math genius, nor his pension for saving old nails ~ but I’m pretty sure if you looked in the dictionary for the meaning of the word “integrity”, you’d find his name. And for that alone I am eternally grateful.

Here’s to all the fathers who teach even half of this stuff. You are more important than you may know.

January 16, 2014 In appreciation, leadership, life and the universe By Patricia Saxton

The Passionate, Controversial and Fabulous Dian Fossey

She loved children and animals. She loved men. She loved, more than anything, the gorillas of Africa. Dian Fossey was a woman who followed her heart. Or, perhaps, she was discovering her heart.

I sometimes wonder how people follow that heart, that passion, with an intensity such as hers, in a way so remarkably driven that one separates from any sort of “real life normalcy” ~ and how interesting that, conversely, it has the effect of changing our “normal” world with insights and awarenesses otherwise left unknown. These are the true trailblazers. Dian Fossey certainly qualifies.

It could be that her unhappy childhood (in particular a cold, strict, unsupportive stepfather) provided a sense of “rootlessness” allowing her to leave civilization behind for the bulk of her adult life. She became wholly dedicated to primate research and conservation, living among Rwanda’s gentle mountain gorillas ~ and, I understand, a menagerie of other animals ~ for close to 20 years.

Her life’s work provided stunning, groundbreaking research about gorilla behavior and, over time, earned her a reputation for ruthless dealings with poachers. In 1967, Dian founded the Karisoke Research Centre. With the help of National Geographic photographers and countless television appearances she focused world attention on the gorillas’ plight. She began raising money to pay for anti-poaching, and in 1978 set up the first ranger patrols in Rwanda.

In the end, her passion cost her her life. She was murdered by an unknown attacker in the early hours of December 27, 1985, in her cabin at Karisoke.

An extraordinary woman who left the world a better place, Dian’s account of her extraordinary years in remote Africa, Gorillas in the Mist, was published in 1983. Hollywood made it a box office hit in 1987. She would have been 81 today.