Pins Dropping

I wrote this in November 2003 and never posted or published it anywhere. I came across it tonight while cleaning out some files. A lot has changed. Paley has died. I no longer work for myself. I got married and had a baby. In fact, I met my husband just four months after writing this. But looking at it five years later, I think it still explains to some degree my outlook on life. I also think it does reveal that I was looking for something or someone. The photos were part of series I worked on in tandem with the essay.

Pins Dropping

I stopped reading the paper and watching the news after 9/11. Wait. I stopped reading the paper and watching the news after I had a nervous breakdown around 10/11. Trying to decide between a clear and a beige shower curtain liner while in the aisles of K-Mart, I began crying one October day and didn't stop for two weeks straight.

This led to some decision-making. I decided that for me, sanity requires a certain amount of ignorance. This is not a fact that I am particularly proud of, but I have come to accept my limitations due to my acute sensitivity. I have a limitation on the amount of stimulation I can handle. I can't back up my car with the radio on. At restaurants, I'm distracted by conversations at nearby tables. The sound of pins dropping can set me off. Too much information to process at one time--I lose balance.

So I declared a self-moratorium on the news. I chose to turn my head from the crazy situation of the world---which I had no control over and certainly was at a loss to explain. Someday I may change my mind and start watching Frontline and reading the paper, but for now, this is how it is.

Months ago Nina and I walked to Shaw Coffee Garden, and as we sat outside she began to get increasingly worked up about the war on Iraq; wrangling over what she could do about it, what SKIF could do about it, what we could do to change America's blind acceptance of President Busch's assault. While I shared her disgust and discouragement over the situation, my lack of enthusiasm and commitment for the plans she was hatching obviously puzzled her. "I think it is because you are from the country," she said. "You are used to just getting up and working and getting done what needs to be done. How can you be worried about politics when you have hay to make?" I wanted to argue with her, but I couldn't (even though I personally had never "made" hay).

Part of me desperately wishes that I had the kind of conviction that Nina has--that determination to take action at any cost. And I know I am capable of battling for something in which I truly believe. But what I truly believe is that I was made to get done what needs to be done through determined but quiet acts. I vote. I recycle. I read a lot. I make art. I work for myself. I donate money and time to charity. I try to be nice to everyone. I always root for the underdog. This is as far as my political action stretches these days. It is not laziness. It is self-preservation.

One of my favorite writers is Grace Paley. Actively involved in anti-war, feminist and anti-nuclear movements, at 81, Ms. Paley regards herself as a "somewhat combative pacifist and cooperative anarchist." She began her writing career as a poet, but is most known for her mastery of the short story. Asked once why she has never written a novel, Grace said, "Art is too long and life is too short." I believe her.

So I choose to make the world better by spending my days doing the things I'm passionate about and making sure that my family and friends know that I love them. Simple as that. I live my life looking for the quiet spaces between the rain and listening for pins to drop.