I really wanted to write about joy today.
I wanted to write about a joy that I am craving, needing, seeking —
and feeling deeply unable to find.
I wanted to ask all of you how you’re getting it:
what’s your dose, your frequency, your medicine-of-choice.
I wanted to crowdsource joy and spread it around
like a sweet jam, sticky and sweet, a treat for all to share.
But I realized
the reason I wanted to ask wasn’t quite right.
The reason I wanted to ask was to mask up
and hide all this discomfort & palpable pain.
I wanted to side shuffle away from the gnarly, difficult feelings
and skip right into the joy-creating,
as if it were a mask made of colorful clay that I could shape up
with the pinching of my fingers and place on our faces.
So, even though I wanted to write about joy for all of us,
I need and want to respect the pain.
To feel this alongside the rest of Minneapolis, the rest of this country
as we shift toward inevitable change:
the emulsifying caterpillar before the butterfly;
the pressure of the stone before the diamond;
the collective rawness before the nourishment.