Sometimes the Cosmos--

Okay. Not a book. But sometimes the cosmos begs a response—

Saturday, on my way to an out-of-town hospital where my husband was about to have emergency surgery (he’s okay), I stopped for gas and was approached by a young man, holding out his driver’s license and college id. I was rattled, I can’t remember what he said, just that he needed help. Normally, I help people when I can. But, anxious to be on my way, I apologized and explained where I was going. He apologized for asking, wished me well, and went into the gas station.

I felt terrible, near tears. About not helping him, about everything. This country, the unspeakable cruelty and corruption at bay with the inauguration of a president completely lacking in compassion.

I waited until the young man came out and gave him a twenty-dollar bill—and a hug. “We have to help each other,” I said—and fled.

I was crying by that time.

OMG. So…melodramatic.

Yet it was how I felt, how I feel at this moment in time.

In any case, I went on into my day—which seemed to stretch forever.

Hospitals. Enough said, right?

Still feeling weepy and precarious this morning, I decided to go look at some art to cheer myself up—familiar paintings I visit again and again, like friends. They always make me feel better.

But on my way to the European wing, I glanced sideways and saw this taking up pretty much the whole wall of a small side gallery—

And, upon entering, this—

And—

And—

Threads of Resurgence, six mindbogglingly beautiful works of art that Carlos Rolon “constructed from repurposed FEMA-distributed tarps that were once used as makeshift roofs in Puerto Rican communities impacted by climate disaster,” was exactly what I needed!

They resonate with loss, grief, hardship—and something I can’t quite name but feels a little like fuck you if you think you can destroy us.

Personally. Collectively.

And, voila! The cosmos speaks!

I couldn’t stop looking at these beautiful works of art.

Tarps, for Pete’s sake. So ordinary.

The bright (in your face) colors, the doilies, the embroidered roses.

Look how the threads are left hanging loose, some beyond the frame.

“Keep going,” this one commanded:

Yes, I told myself.

Keep going.

Keep your eyes open.

There’s beauty everywhere.

And always will be.