Climate Change is Real: Day 9 of my Lone Vigil
© March 29th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Climate Change is Real: Day 9 of my Lone Vigil
© March 29th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
This was my worst day for a vigil – being very sleep-deprived all week, and waking up earlier than usual, well before the alarm, did not set me up for a good morning.
Then, having done everything requisite on the home-front – put dog out, let dog in, make coffee, wash, and look reasonably dressed and neat, and ready to be there ON TIME … but wait! What was that out there?
NO! Not the trash truck! Nooo! I had our trash and recycling bags all ready to go in the mud room, but I hadn’t taken them down last night, thinking they could wait till the morning. And now, those garbage trucks were OUT there, having already dumped whatever was in our large trash bin, and moving like lumbering, arch-backed green beetles to the next house.
I have to explain: Our town has a VERY good trash-and-recycling-collection system: Some years ago, every house had been given two large plastic bins a few years ago, one for trash, the other for recycling. Every Tuesday, we put them out on the road, just off the sidewalks outside our house, for them to be picked up and emptied by those wonderful semi-automated garbage trucks. It’s a good system, and now, there seems to be less waste in our town. So, I left everything on the front step, ran down 40+ steps with the trash bag, and managed to reach the truck, even after they’d emptied out our bin. Then, I ran back. By now, I was feeling rather hot and breathless – and also, somewhat dim-witted. I remembered to grab my travel mug with fresh coffee in it, locked the door, picked up the sign, and turned my face towards the traffic streaming into Our Spot. Having seen on the weather app on my phone that today was going to be in the 50s, I thought I wouldn’t need a coat, or a sweater. So, I sallied forth with neither, just my sign-scimitar, my coffee-elixir and my cotton-wool-clouded head. I was halfway to my spot when I realized something about the weather. It was COLD!
For, what I hadn’t seen was that the temperature reading for the morning was 43 degrees (which is WARM by our standards). AND the wind blew about me like a crazed banshee, threatening the sign and me, as I climbed up the hilly slope from our house towards the on-ramp that led to Warren’s Intersection.
I was COLD, and very tired. I wanted to cry like a baby.
I admit it. I thought of quitting. I said to myself that nobody was forcing me to do this. I was there, because I liked doing the vigil that Warren began. It makes me feel that I contribute in my own tiny way to something positive that helps to awaken people to our Climate Crisis. I’ve gotten in the habit (over nine working week-days, in the space of the thirteen days that Warren was away) of awakening in the morning of my own accord, resisting the urge to curl up and sleep the rest of my life away, and heading out to do the Vigil. I liked all of it, even the Chick Tract guy (who threw another one for my delectation yesterday, something I just remembered).
So, like some sort of transplanted Puritan, I dealt with the discomfort, and refused to go back home. I was going to stick it out, wind or no wind, dagnabit! I was going to dig my heels in and stay. The birds were singing away – or were they complaining?
Guruji was in my ear, and the music was lovely, but it skipped around inexplicably (must have gone to shuffle) – going dizzyingly from Bhatiyar to Nayaki Kanada to Amritavarshini. No matter what I did, I couldn’t make it stick to one raga. So, I sang along with the recordings, but I was morose, and my mind refused to comply with my desire to sing nicely. I resented the wind, the traffic, the clouds, the streaming self-contained boxes of steel on wheels cutting through my air , and the people in those boxes. My self-discipline was sorely tested.
Nope, I am not always cheerful during these vigils, it seems.
The wind blew, and I sang, and felt like King Lear, and wanted to declaim: Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! Fortunately, there’s no kingdom, no sycophantic older daughters, no need to have love proven to me – just a sign that reminds people that something that’s happening all around them is REAL (and hope that they’ll do something about it, even if it means talking about it, and spreading awareness that can translate into action to impede the flow of Climate Change).
Forty minutes in, and I’d had enough. Besides, I needed to be home to make S’s breakfast, deal with dog, and get ready to take my daughter to Chorus. So, I started walking towards my sloping hill, head down, sign on shoulder, misanthropic thoughts filtering into my brain.
And as I did so, a middle-aged red-haired woman leaned out, and said clearly: “Thank you for what you’re doing.”
Nice! I looked up now, and felt cheered. How simple it is to cheer a person up, no?
The effect of her nice remark was marred immediately by a man in a monster SUV, who leaned out of his window, and said, “It’s a myth, all of it!”
I yelled back, “Go look it up,” and went on, but I still felt cheerful.
My eyes are closing right now. I’ve been up for hours, having awoken early, done the vigil, dealt with daughter’s schedule, cooked a very good dinner, baked a cake, made some Indian-style masala chai, walked the dog, cleaned, and done a lot of laundry. Warren returned from India this afternoon, and my relief was profound. We were so happy to see him, all three of us! Holly was beside herself with joy. Together, we feel completed.
As I type this, I hear the somewhat frantic, desolate honking of a lone goose flying through the dark (I didn’t know they did that!), and I wish it well. Must be hard to be lost in the night.
Now, it’s time to go to sleep. I shall see you all anon. Tomorrow, there will be two of us at the Vigil. Happiness!
_______________________________________________________
Sorry, no pictures of me yesterday, or today. Tired of selfies!