the list of now

When you get to the top of the mountain
Pull the next one up.
Then there’ll be two of you
Roped together at the waist
Tired and proud, knowing the mountain,
Knowing the human force it took
To bring both of you there.
And when the second one has finished
Taking in the view,
Satisfied by the heat and perspiration under the wool,
Let her pull the next one up;
Man or woman, climber of mountains.
Pull the next hand over
The last jagged rock
To become three.
Two showing what they’ve already seen.
And one knowing now the well-being with being
Finished with one mountain,
With being able to look out a long way
Toward other mountains.
Feeling a temptation to claim victory
As if mountains were human toys to own.

When you ask how high is this mountain
With a compulsion to know
Where you stand in relationship to other peaks,
Look down to wherefrom you came up

And see the rope that’s tied to your waist
Tied to the next man’s waist,
Tied to the next woman’s waist,
Tied to the first man’s waist,
To first woman’s waist … and pull the rope!

Never mind the flags you see flapping on conquered pinnacles.
Don’t waste time scratching inscriptions into the monolith.
You are the stone itself.
And each man, each woman up the mountain,
Each breath exhaled at the peak,
Each glad-I-made-it … here’s-my-hand,
Each heartbeat wrapped around the hot skin of the sun-bright sky, Each noise panted or cracked with laughter,
Each embrace, each cloud that holds everyone
in momentary doubt …

All these are inscriptions of a human force that can
Conquer conquering hand over hand pulling the rope
Next man up, next woman up.
Sharing a place, sharing a vision.
Room enough for all on all the mountain peaks.
Force enough for all
To hold all the hanging bodies
Dangling in the deep recesses of the mountain’s belly
Steady … until they have the courage …
Until they know the courage …
Until they understand
That the only courage there is is
To pull the next man up
Pull the next woman up
Pull the next up

Up

Up.

- Marc Kelly Smith,  “Pull the Next One Up”

I heard this poem performed at the Green Mill in Chicago in early 2002.  I had just moved to Chicago after having left New York right after September 11th.  There was a long road of  Bush still ahead of us and it was already so bad, but we all knew it was going to get worse.  Needless to say, this poem is one of those things that I heard exactly when I needed to hear it.  Marc is a fantastic performer and host, and an interesting and controversial figure in the poetry world.  He isn’t actually one of my favorite writers, but this is one of my favorite poems of all time and had been since that day.

I was competing in the slam that night.  (I almost won, lost by fractions of a point to Joel Chmara, very worthy opponent).  But I stopped slamming very soon after.  I was in a painful growing place, re-evaluating a lot of my life and the person I want to be and shamed by my own self-image into not being able to be onstage and let the work speak for itself.  It became about me and I couldn’t handle that.

Whenever I look back at that time and think about my path right now and think about why I believe in or care about the things I do, why I speak out about the things I do…

Why keep going and keep trying? Why poetry?  Why writing at all?  Why activism?  Why fight privilege and oppression?  Why are words so important?

This poem is one of my touchstones now that I go to, to remind me that it’s not about me.  It’s not about being right or righteous, it’s about people.  It’s not even about being your best self or you own values, even though that can factor in. It’s about connection.   It’s not too sentimental for me to say that it is the intersection of work/purpose and love.

I was thinking about all the blogs I read and how so many of them have pieces of writing, essays, thoughts that stick in my head, as much as this poem did.   How inspiring it can be to read other people’s questions, art and ideas.  Why livejournal was an important part of my life for a time and why tumblr is now.

When people don’t understand blogging or don’t read blogs, I think there is a misconception that it is a purely self-indulgent medium.  That people are doing it to draw other people to themselves.  In my experience, most people do it to put themselves out there and become part of something else.   I can’t tell you how many very personal blogs I have related to, and have helped me feel connected.

It is not easy work and very often not paid or recognized work, but it is insulting to say it’s a hobby or distraction or that it is somehow separate from real life.

To bring it back to this poem:

There are artists at all stages of their work and life experience, who don’t always feel like “real artists” and they are posting their work and accepting scrutiny and feedback on the internet anyway.

There are people who admit they are still learning and they don’t have all the answers when discussing complexity in politics and violence and war and privilege, because it’s about what is true, not “winning the argument”.  They get attacked for this.  Often the same people who care most about integrity and recognizing sources are also those who write their truest and most vulnerable feelings.  This is humbling and it feels like shouting  into an empty canyon because it is thankless and invalidating work.

Right before I looked up the poem, I was thinking about feminist and activist bloggers I read and follow on tumblr who circulate under reported news and start conversations that really need to be happening.   There are a couple people who I see write about topics that hurt, depress and anger them on a daily basis and endure tons of hateful and terrible and triggering comments.  And they do it anyway.

So if any of you are reading this, this is what I want to say to you:

This poem is about people like you.  You are the climbers and on many issues, you are the first ones up and then you have to keep pulling and pulling.  I know it’s lonely sometimes.  I know it’s so difficult, but I want you to know you do reach people.  Even the hateful comments happen because your truth bounces around the brains of people who willfully want to ignore and stifle it.   That is happening because of the power to connect that your work has.

Your work helps me up.  It helps me want to pull more people up.  You connect.  Thank you for your work and courage.

Until they know the courage …
Until they understand
That the only courage there is is
To pull the next man up
Pull the next woman up
Pull the next up

This is a follow-up to my previous post on how the Governor of RI is an Asshat.

The protest was well attended and beautifully planned/designed.  There was no yelling or signs and although I understand how powerful large people in groups with anger can be… this was totally different.   Everyone was there because of the outrage over this veto, but it was peaceful and a little bit somber.  The crowd with the candles lined the walk up to the state house and there was an actual mock funeral procession up the walk and onto the stairs, accompanied by organ funeral music over a PA.  It was very visual and in that way, very powerful.

It’s important to note that this was not a protest planned by a particular organization or a coalition of organizations, as they often are.  This was a few citizens calling up to get a permit, and organizing all their friends and people in their immediate communities to actually DO something instead of sitting around and complaining.   They did it with no budget and within a very short amount of time.   That’s excellent and inspiring.  Proof that we can ALWAYS do something and sometimes that something ends up being very powerful and getting recognized locally by the people who can make changes.

There was coverage by local news.  The Providence Journal:

PROVIDENCE — About 150 protesters lit candles in the dark Thursday night and followed a black casket up the walk to the State House steps.
.

Six pallbearers placed the coffin on the white marble steps, a seventh placed a wreath of white roses upon it, and Joe Roch, 29, of Providence turned to address the somber crowd.
.

“We’re gathered here tonight out of a mutual sense of anger and frustration at Governor Carcieri’s recent veto of the domestic partners funeral bill” Roch said. He drew applause when he referred to comedian Stephen Colbert’s “shaming” Carcieri on national television.
.

Although Carcieri killed the bill, Roch said, “Tonight we present you not with the mangled, defeated corpse of a dream deferred, but with a greater hunger for progress and equality for every man and woman in Rhode Island.”
.
Lt. Gov. Elizabeth H. Roberts told those attending the protests that “almost every single member of the House and Senate supported the legislation,” called the governor’s veto “a cruel act” and promised the next session of the General Assembly would overturn the veto.

And on local news network WPRI:

It’s not a secret that Governor Donald Carcieri is a first-class AssHat.  He’s earned that title several times over, but his latest veto is extra extra on the douchenozzle, even for him.

Towleroad sums it up the best:

If you’re gay and you die in Rhode Island your domestic partner won’t be able to make funeral arrangements for you because Governor Donald Carcieri just vetoed a bill providing for that.

Why?

According to Carcieri, “This bill represents a disturbing trend over the past few years of the incremental erosion of the principles surrounding traditional marriage, which is not the preferred way to approach this issue. If the General Assembly believes it would like to address the issue of domestic partnerships, it should place the issue on the ballot and let the people of the state of Rhode Island decide.”

((This makes me so crazy, I don’t even have the WORDS))

I also want to note this bill affects ALL unmarried partners, straight or queer, but it was targeted for veto by the Governor as being part of the so-called larger Gay Agenda.  This bill passed in the RI assembly 63-1, and those are not all people who support same-sex marriage.  I think that several of them just realized that the ONLY reason NOT to pass this law would be to go out of your way to deny fair treatment and make a point about same-sex relationships.

Steven Colbert does a pretty good job commenting on how absurd this is with his own special brand of over-the-top satire:

Those of us in RI who are furious, are attending a  Vigil and Funeral Procession Against the Veto happening tonight at the Statehouse.    I’ve been trying to spread the word this week by word-of-mouth and other mediums, but hadn’t gotten around to posting about it.   So I’m hoping that this is not the first you’ve heard of it, if you are in RI.   (I’m fairly sure all 2 of my local readers are people I speak with often and have already heard).

Everyone else out there, I just wanted you to know this was happening!

I just read this in the NY Times  – Bill Saluting Harvey Milk Brings California Fight

I want to comment on this bit:

While the day of recognition — of which there are only three in California, for John Muir, teachers and the California poppy — would impose no specific requirements on schools or close state offices, opponents say the tribute could encourage discussion of Milk and gay issues in public schools. State law encourages schools to observe days of recognition and “conduct suitable commemorative exercises.”

“The bill is so broad it could encompass all kinds of things,” said Randy Thomasson, president of SaveCalifornia.com, who has been active in opposing same-sex marriage in the state. “Remembering the life of Harvey Milk could allow for gay pride parades on campus or mock gay weddings or cross-dressing. There is no prohibition of what the bill calls ‘suitable commemorative exercises.’ The sky’s the limit.”

Fuck that noise.

Remembering J. Edgar Hoover or holding a powder puff football game could also lead to cross-dressing.   Remembering Harvey Milk will most likely encompass a moment of silence or a 40-minute class discussion at most with the more liberal-minded or neutral teachers and nothing at all for conservative teachers since no one is FORCING anyone to do anything.

I hate when people object to something that no one is mandating. They are objecting to other people being given more options of what and how to learn.  Of the scope of who is important being extended past the level of their own ignorance.

But then, there’s a lot of that going around right now, isn’t there?

What is that about being doomed to repeat the past?  In case you need a review of the horrors of the GWB years, the brilliant folks who brought us “Goodnight Bush” made this fabulous website:

The Official George W. Bush Presidential Libarium

It’s been up for a while, but somehow I missed it!  So I’m sharing it with you all now.  It’s worth taking a look at.

It features areas such as Turd Blossom Gardens, Free Speech Plaza (with a giant stomping boot on a protester), Walter Reed Hospital of Horrors, The Golden Parachutes Ride, Book BBQ and The Enchanted Deforestation.

Spend some time scrolling around there and read all the little ride descriptions, a magnifying tool allows you to see detail in the pictures as well.   Aside from being remarkably well-designed, it’s very astute and plenty snarky.  Like “Goodnight Bush”  I laughed but then I also shuddered as it hit that nerve – that  “I can’t believe that was actually our reality over the last decade in American history” place inside me that will never really be the same again.

I feel like we all dove right in to this next “chapter” with Obama now, and getting swept up in the moment happened very quickly.  We are all so very anxious to move on.   And with all of the discussion and criticism being swirled about what Obama is doing and is not doing – and rightfully so, as citizens we absolutely need to paying attention to the job he is doing and questioning -  I have to admit, looking at this just kind of slapped me with a perspective check.

It’s helpful for me to remember the mess he inherited and will be dealing with the ENTIRE time, because it’s so WAY to much for any human to fix, or being to attempt to fix.

It’s also helpful for me, when I get impatient, frustrated or angry to remember that it could be SO SO SO much worse right now.

h/t to the wonderful library, literary and book-centric ladies at Closed Stacks