-

 How beautiful the day is for many of us. How tragic the day is for many of our fellow citizens. They deserve our participation in mourning. Today a Day of Mourning for First Nation People. A Week of Grieving for many Americans. Every Gesture of Mourning by those of us alive is as well a Celebration of Life – how much we cherish others and being alive. This is how we bow. 


The 641 Garage BLM Memorial Mural – finally finished and thoroughly sealed



A last detail added: what does being alive mean to you?  

 


My question floating on the last empty panel of the memorial wall, unfinished and curious... 


awaiting your reflections...

Comments

Fern said…
Oh the POWER of words...Super congratulations on finishing the amazing and powerful mural. I love that many coats of protection were put upon it! Many, many hearts will be touched by it for many many years to come!
November 26, 2022 at 4:30 PM
Alex K said…
That question echoes quietly. I feel a bit like a gong being struck upon reading it. I don't know the answer. Being embedded in the mural gives it a tenderness and responsibility that I feel moved to respond to. Don't forget. See things. Be courageous.
November 28, 2022 at 8:49 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

-
Image
  Immigration On Friday morning of September 20, I am spending a couple of hours for my naturalization interview in the federal building  on 630 Sansome Street in San Francisco  that houses the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Then later at 1 pm, in the oath ceremony, I am reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Standing, holding up my right hand like everyone else, repeating the words after our master of ceremonies, I am engulfed in a chorus of immigrants’ voices from all over the world. Out of maybe 80, only two are Caucasian. The man leading us through the 20 minutes ceremony, is most likely a judge, but without his robe. He is an elegant, kind, and personable elder. We can hear the genuineness in his voice, and we are genuine, too. As we pledge allegiance to this country, the English sentences might ring slightly different for each of us. In another minute we will be citizens of the United States. Something in me is expanding. I am swearing to be a responsible an...
Read more
-
Image
  Last Dance with Uncle Oak This time, to honor the loss of another member of my ancient live oaks, I want to climb into the tree. Like I used to do 32 years ago, move, touch, feel – suspended in the air, resting on bark, sensations to be remembered. Perhaps documenting it? I ask around last minute, and find a good match in photographer  Rebecca Weinstein  to take stills of my last dance with old Uncle Oak. Once my naked feet touch the rough bark, a dynamic joy starts spreading through my body and limbs. The surprising urge to elongate myself within the safety of his sturdy arms. Next morning in a different light, I dress for another chance of closeness, envisioning my smallness to be captured. The freedom to grow into a tree, become tree , get an oak’s view, blend well, and disappear eventually. Uncle Oak, has been leaning for decades, growing northward horizontally, reaching far over into the neighbor’s yard. Now that Mama Oak has left, his malaise is more apparent...
Read more
-
Image
  “I Wanted All Of Society To Be A Witness.” These days, when tears spring up in the eye so quickly, so readily like tiny wild strawberries, each time I know the heart is touched whether I want it or not – the silvery breathy voice of the young science writer, the shy bowing of the singer receiving her applause, the sweet smile of Cecile after an exquisite concert, the fiercely angry voices of French admirers of Gisèle Pelicot. And then of course: the grandson, one arm around his 72-year-old grandmother’s shoulder as she gives her brief speech to the press after a grueling months-long public trial of rape. He admiringly glances at her, with utter calm, concentration and confidence, soft support in his face and body language, nothing restless, over bearing, pitying – only admiration, respect and love. And I burst into tears! This rape story is not about a celebrity, starlet, beauty queen, but about a retired manager, married mother and grandmother, having been drugged unconscious an...
Read more