Joy is Resistance
It has been about two weeks since I wrote last. I have been walking, some, and reading a lot and watching hiking YouTube. My favorite mother daughter hiking pair had an interesting video yesterday in which the mom talked about hiking gatekeeping. Just like in every group there are some people that judge other members, and she had run into that. If you don’t hike the trail the right way, or if you only do parts, or if you do only day hikes, you can’t call yourself a trail hiker. She talked about not paying attention to those types, to how these judgements usually are just on social media and not in person, and finally she said, “It’s not that deep. Just hike. You do you. Enjoy”
I was substitute teaching one day and I saw a sign on the wall of the classroom. It said, “How to be a math person. Be a person. Do math.” So, how are we a hiking person. Same advice, be a person and hike. If you like to read, read what you like. If you like to, fill in the blank, do the thing. Worrying about what other people think, or letting them steal your joy is a mistake. We are in this life, this one life, to find our own way. We don’t need permission from others to exist, and we don’t need the gatekeeping of others to determine our way. I just finished a garden class. I am not one of those people with neat tidy lawns, straight borders and long lasting blooming plants in my yard. I worried about saying I am now a Master Gardener because my yard is a little wild. But, I wanted to learn more about gardening, especially native plants, plants for pollinators and growing food. Working in the dirt makes me happy. I will do it my way.
Joy is resistance. I got very down watching the news yesterday, and then after watching the hiking video and going for a nice walk, I realized my joy in life is my resistance. I want to share something that brings me joy. I love Public Radio. NPR is always on my car radio and I have heard the most interesting stories, great music and local public service announcements. Where else can you listen to a show called Philosophy Talks, followed by Moth Radio hour and then the history of Jazz. NPR makes me late to places I am going. I pulled into the tennis parking lot as an interviewer was asking children what they think about rules. I sat in my carport finishing a Moth radio hour talk about a man that had been in jail, and then found meaning in life. Last night I heard an interview with a poet, a Vietnamese American first generation man who described how he discovered that being a poet was a thing one could do. He went from reading the lines of a 16th century poet and asking which band he wrote for, to studying English in University, once he realized it wasn’t a degree for people wanting to learn to speak the language. The interview ended with him singing an old Appalachian folk tune that sent shivers up my spine because it was so beautiful. Where else would an interview like that exist, but for NPR?
No where else can I turn on a radio and listen to classical music. No where else can I turn on a radio and listen to Beethoven, Mozart, Hayden, and on and on. If I came from a family that only listened to pop music, or country and rock, what are the chances I might get exposed to such variety, to flutes and violins and explanations about the music and musicians? yesterday an NPR segment brought me to tears. I listened to Fresh Air with Terry Gross. She talked about the passing of her husband, a Jazz critic and writer. She interspersed the remembrances with actual music, quotes from his writing and stories of their life together. I have been listening to Fresh Air for years, it is one of my favorite programs, but this episode was special. I take Joy in NPR. I take Joy in PBS. I take joy in my public libraries. My first act whenever we move to a new town is to get my library card. The second is to find my local NPR station.
These last weeks have been busy with the garden class and the volunteer hours that are part of earning the certificate, so walking has been slow. In two weeks I walked 20.13 miles, some of them just walking back and forth at the plant sales I worked. This puts me at 189.44 miles, or at the Derrick Knob shelter. I have been there, in high school. The shelter before that one, Spence Fields, is where I saw skunks meandering through the campsite. During the night a skunk got into the shelter, and sat on me, on my sleeping bag. My parents were afraid to wake me up, because if I jumped or screamed the skunk might have sprayed us. Luckily he just sniffed around some and then ran off. I was glad I slept through it. Derrick Knob is a pretty section, so I am glad to (pretend to) be there. Happy hiking, happy reading, happy listening! Joy is Resistance!
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