Mar 18, 2016 Climate Change is Real!, Daily Life, Ramblings and Musings
Climate Change is Real – Day 2 of my Vigil Alone
©March 18th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
So, another late night followed by an even earlier morning (6:15) for me today – sigh!
I made coffee to take in my trusty travel mug, and a hot breakfast, and ginger tea for my daughter (who arose at 7:20 in order to get ready for our post-vigil haul all the way to Cohasset, MA, where she will be attending a once-a-week farming/harvesting/animal-care home-school class at Holly Hill Farm from now until mid-May). The dog was philosophical when left for my vigil. My daughter was sanguine. I love them both.
Despite awakening so early, I was STILL fifteen minutes behind the Warren-time on the vigil! Never mind. I made it, at least.
It’s been a beautiful, sunshiny day all day today, and it was cool (45 degrees), but sunny in the morning at my spot. Blue-jays flashed in blue streaks between the trees, and mid-way through, a sudden rush of wings divided the air near me. I saw, with wonder, two Canada geese arise from the boggy area of the Fells, which come close to the Warren Intersection (as I now call that part of Roosevelt Circle), and end right near where he/I stand at our vigil, and rise up, honking madly. It was quite arresting.
I was in low-energy mode, so I sang what I ALWAYS sing when I don’t know what to sing – namely, Bhairav – my default setting, possibly because I grew up learning South Indian music. Mayamalavagowla (with the same notes as Bhairav) is the first raga that all good little South Indian children learn if they learn Carnatic music. I made moaning aakars, and some paltas, and droned on, did some sargam (Indian solfege) work, and sang Jaago, Mohana Pyaare Tumha, as well as Jaago Brija Raja Kumara. My voice held up for a bit, then cracked on some of the not-so-high higher notes. (Sigh! I have a long, uphill climb to regain my skills in singing Hindustani music). In any case, I had a good time.
Cars went by, and I had several thumbs-ups – one from an older white-haired, man with a Bernie bumper-sticker, one from a grey-haired man with distinctly liberal features, several smiles and waves from younger men and women, and even one heavily bearded, long-haired young hippie-ish looking guy driving a low pick-up car-truck thing (I don’t know what to call those!) – who, having apparently being much taken by the sight of a woman standing with a protest sign, must have driven ahead, and parked his car somewhere, because I turned to see him walking up to me. He asked to take my picture, asked me my name, told me his name, and added that he worked for a magazine called In League Press, which published pictures and articles about people with protest signs, or something like that. I told him that it was really my husband’s sign, and that I was covering for him, and that he would probably see my husband in a couple of weeks. He told me I would probably see my picture on FB or Twitter in a few days (or, did he say, weeks), and then left. I was pleased by him, and warmed by our exchange.
A woman drove by, applying lipstick. Another drove by, elaborately applying mascara. How did she do that and not slam into the car in front of her? I admired her, in spite of myself. Mothers turning back to their children in the back drove by, and fathers with empty car seats in the back drove by, as well. So much potential for distraction when we have children! I remember having to carefully explain to my daughter when she was younger that I could not turn around and look every time she said, ” Mom, look! See what I’m doing!” She was put out at first, but understood when I explained some more. How much can one tell one’s young children about potential disaster (car accidents, Climate Change) without upsetting them, or making them into bundles of anxiety? I walk a fine line there. I think I do okay, but only time will tell.
Several plumber-type trucks and construction vehicles were out this morning, and I thought, not for the first time, about how plumbing and construction are some of the REAL jobs that would be nice to learn. At the same time, they signal the fact that we occupy space, and leave waste behind. Sometimes, when I feel pessimistic and misanthropic, I think that to be human is to create waste and denude the land of its natural beauty. Thinking this does not make me happy. (Quick! Think better thoughts! Yes, yes! We humans create beauty, yes, we create music, yes, we create art, yes, we create language … yes, we create entire dimensions of thought and being. Yes, we’re all right. Phew!)
Still, if I were to be reincarnated, I think I’ll opt to be a bird, or a frog. Or, better still, a dolphin. Birds sing, frogs sing, dolphins click – who wouldn’t want that?
More good things: A lovely black van drove by with this legend: Earth, Stone and Water. That was somehow soothing, even grand, in its way. I imagined the company to be concerned with environmental work. No doubt, if I Google it, I’ll find out something mundane. I do not want to know. It was followed by another van with this on its side: Plumbing / Heating / HVAC / Boilers. Good, but not as nice. Humpf! After a while, another van drove by, and its driver, a young man, gave me a thumbs-up and a big smile. The sign on the side and back said something about bee-keeping services. I felt an absurd upwelling of affection for him.
So, I droned in Bhairav, and felt freer by the second.
Fifty minutes passed. Suddenly, a nasty sour-faced SUV drove by, and a scowling man leaned out from the passenger seat, and snarled, “Oh, go get a job!”
If I had not heard from my husband about his routinely hearing such remarks every week, I might have stiffened and perhaps, gotten briefly upset. As it was, I just laughed, and said, well after the car had driven past, “Oh, go to hell!” Not the wittiest of retorts, but it was all I could muster in the moment.
I sang some more, finished my coffee, and trundled back home, and then raced around the house to get ready to take my daughter to Holly Hill Farm far, far away in Cohasset, and Warren’s student Thomas, showed up to dog-sit our Standard Poodle, Holly. Holly is crazy about Thomas, and I swear that if we were to vanish from the earth, Holly would live quite happily with him. It’s sweet to see her adore him so waggily and goofily. He must emanate the scent of goodness (He’s certainly a very kind and good person, from what I’ve seen!)
My daughter and I returned after a lovely few hours at the Farm, and now, I have written this post.
Contradictions exist – we all know that. I stood with a “Climate Change is Real” sign for an hour this morning, then got in my car, and drove several miles to have my daughter be in the midst of growing vegetables and animals in a beautiful area. I wish things could be less complicated, but nothing is.
What we can do is try to reduce our carbon footprint, grow more things, buy less stuff. We do what we can, and raise consciousness as we do it. Every conscious action leads others to conscious action. I hope this is true.
Thanks for reading!
Signing off,
Dreamer of Dreams
(Standing in for Man with Sign)
Tags: #ClimateChangeisReal, #Contradictions, #Man with Sign, #Nature, #Waste, #Woman with Sign
Mar 17, 2016 Climate Change is Real!, Daily Life, Ramblings and Musings
Climate Change is Real – And I Won’t Give Up
©March 17th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
By Vijaya Sundaram
It was a pearly-gray morning, and the moisture in the air was gentle, not threatening. The sky was rich with bird-song and Spring-tones.
I woke up duly at 7:00 (feeling a little sad about having to wake up so early after a later night than I’d intended), and got ready to keep Warren’s “Climate Change is Real” vigil – I’d promised him I would keep the flag aloft, so to speak, and I wanted to be good about it.
I don’t know how Warren gets ready in half an hour. I could not. Made the coffee, let the dog out, let her back in, dealt with this and that in the kitchen, and was finally out of the house around 7:48 or so.
The morning air was still damp, but promised sunshine, and many (but not all) of the bulbs I’d planted in the fall were poking their heads out in the front yard, but they looked still sleepy, as did I.
A sense of déjà vu, came over me. About nine months ago, I was still getting up at 6:15 in the morning, and getting ready for school, which I’d reach between 7:00 and 7:20, depending on the morning. And I’d envy, but not begrudge, my husband and child their sleep (the former began dropping me off at school, since we have but one car, and he needed it, but I’d wake him up just before I needed to leave, to allow him some snooze-time).
Nowadays, it’s Warren who gets up early, while I snooze. In any case, after seventeen years of not sleeping, I haven’t learned my lesson still. You’d think I’d have stopped being a night-bird, but alas! That was not to be.
So, here I was, climbing up the median hill-strip, to cross Roosevelt Circle, and take up position at what I like to think of as “Warren’s Intersection.”
I was a little nervous, never having done this on my own (the few times I did stand there in the fall of 2015, I’d been with him, so it had felt fine).
In any case, I didn’t have to worry. Nothing really happened. Great!
Cars drove by indifferently. I got a thumbs-up from a Bernie supporter, some smiles and waves from some YMCA girls in a YMCA car, a smile from some pretty young women in a sleek car, a couple of unintelligible shouts from young men in a truck, and curious or indifferent looks from others. Nothing much to report, thank goodness!
Drinking my steaming hot coffee in 45 degree weather, I found myself relaxing after a bit.
Singing is what we all do at home, so, inspired by Warren’s example, I began to recapture my Hindustani vocal musical self, harking back to the days in the 1990s, when he and I would sing together, and take lessons with our Guruji, Pt. Shreeram G. Devasthali who would teach us in his rich, mellifluous voice for hours on end.
I have to say this: I had sorely neglected this side of myself for the past seventeen or more years. Multi-tasking school work, house-work, writing, running a Drama Club, then a Poetry Club and an Environmental Green Team at my school, and bringing up our daughter, nurturing her fully, and home-schooling her when I got home from school – all these things took it out of me, and music suffered. Yes, I sing every night with my family, and used to play guitar and sitar quite a bit up until the time my daughter was a year old but even those took a back-seat as the years went on.
Now, music calls me back.
I remember our Guruji expressing some regret that I wasn’t practising in the few years before he died. He reminded me to sing, and reiterated that he was very happy that I was a teacher of English (as he had been a teacher of language in India), and that he approved. He was anxious that not just Warren, but I would keep the music he gave us alive.
I tried for a while, but could not keep it going during my school-teaching years.
Now, it’s time. I have to keep a promise to our Guruji and to myself.
Sohini is a beautiful, but simple raga in the Marwa thaat, full of soaring uttara-ang angst, full of inexpressible longing. I’ve always gravitated to it, even before I sang Hindustani khyal music (when I was a young teenager, I used to love singing the Hindi film song, “Kukoo, kukoo, bole koyaliya,” and later, I played it on my sitar. (I studied sitar in Chennai with Pt. Janardan Mitta, who is a disciple of the late great Pt. Ravi Shankar – and yes, I plan to practise my sitar again, now that I’m getting back into music. Thank you for teaching me sitar, dear Guruji – Pt. M. Janardan!).
So, I sang Jiya so lagi peeta tori, a beautiful Ektaal composition. I followed this with Guru charana sharana kara manu jaye, which exhorts the mind to surrender itself at the feet of the Guru (which was so apt and fitting at that moment that I felt tears welling up). After that, I sang Kaise beeti sari raina, piya bina, also in Sohini. Kaise beeti sari raina piya bina speaks, very aptly, about the lover saying, “How will I pass the night without my beloved? I sit here without rest, counting the stars.” (Come back safely home, Warren!) And as I listened to our vocal teacher teaching us, and hearing our voices blend together in this miraculous device, I was grateful for my semi-new i-Phone, in which I’ve stored some of our music-lessons that we recorded back in the nineties, and which Warren transferred to our computers (magic!). It’s at times like these that I am utterly grateful to technology in general. I ended with Rum Jhum Barase Meherwa, which is a romantic song about two lovers getting drenched in the rain.
This last moisture-steeped song seemed to match the damp morning, but thankfully, there was no rain. It was hard to believe on a morning like this, a perfect March morning, which is getting sunnier by the minute, that Climate Change IS Real, but Real it IS! Just check your Boston’s weekly weather forecasts going back a month. It’s scary. But I shall not dwell on that for now. Today was my first day out there (since the fall when I went a few times with Warren), and it was the music which dominated.
The cars crawled by at our overpass Intersection, and flashed by below on the Highway, and I was self-conscious and awkward at first, but soon found I didn’t care what people thought, or what they might say, or do. It’s extremely liberating, in case you’re thinking you might want to get out there with a sign of your own.
I propped up Warren’s sign, “Climate Change is Real,” and felt that I was contributing to the cause in my way. Warren’s idea of being the lone person out there since September of 2015, braving the elements, hammering away at his message is consistent with everything he does – which is with single-minded devotion, including his devotion to us, his family. He left for India last night, and we miss him.
After an hour or more had passed, I wended my way back home, and though I’d slept little, I felt refreshed. Spring was in the air, and a spring was in my step. It’s hard to feel gloomy when it’s beautiful outside, and the birds are in full-throated vocal mode.
And I refuse to give up hope. Call me Pollyanna. Yes, there is awful news about the planet every day. Yes, Climate Change is real. I still believe we can do something about it – not change it back to how it was, obviously, but do good work to impede its hurtling route towards disaster, and preserve our beautiful planet, its beautiful music, its beautiful creatures, and its beautiful (but not always so) people.
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Tags: #ClimateChangeisReal, #For the Planet, #Hindustani classical vocal music, #Keeping Vigil, #Man with Sign, #Singing, #Sitar, #Warren Senders, #Woman with Sign