My blog, like the rest of  me, is a bit of a rover, a wanderer.
I started years ago with a travel blog (see that here).
Then I started one on this website.
And last fall, I started one with the working title I image for the book I'll someday write: Waking Up on the Road...In Pieces.  You'll find that one here.

Perhaps some day I'll merge them.
Or maybe ditch them all and start again.
It's anyone's guess.

But I hope you enjoy the words I put out into the world wherever you find them.

And me, I'm always thrilled to get the words of others, so feel free to reach out whenever you're at all inspired to do so!  You can contact me by clicking here.

​Fall's my favorite season. 
I love the colors, the cooler temps (we are going to get some cooler temps, aren't we?!), and maybe most of all, I love the reminder about endings and beginnings, and the opportunities they engender.   

I've lived in the Northeast most of my life.  I lived my first 16 years in New York City, four later on in the Adirondacks of New York, and the last 20 in Massachusetts.  But for chunks of time between, I did stints in Houston, Austin, Atlanta - but Houston mostly. 

I found it hard to keep track of time in Texas.  The months and times of year sort of blended.  I grew up with the years marked by four seasons.  In Houston, there are only two - hot and hotter. (At least that's how this Yankee experiences it!)

When the seasons change in the New England, we pull out and wear different clothes, engage in different activities, even eat different foods.  There's nothing quite like the first of the season feel of flannel sheets, lick of soft serve ice cream, swim in the ocean, or taste of pumpkin bisque,

If we've been sleepwalking through our days, the change of seasons can sometimes be just the thing to wake us.  There's nothing quite like stepping out into the snow in my Birkenstocks to wake me up!

I suppose I've come to see the change of seasons as Nature's Alarm Clock. 

And as I've been known to hit the snooze a few more than is in my own best interest, and sometimes to sleep through the alarm altogether, I'm grateful to live where Mother Nature has set four alarms. 

I love waking without an alarm, or waking before the alarm and experiencing those moments of deep appreciation for exactly where I am before it does.  But it's nice to know that when that doesn't happen, Mother Nature has it covered!

Wishing for wakefulness and peace, whatever the season.

I just spent ten days in Houston - 10 days dealing with a family medical issue, and that particular intensity and flavor of drama and emotional trauma only families of origin seem able to create.  It was an exhausting 10 days.  And not JUST because of the family matters.

While I was there, I saw first-hand the havoc Harvey wreaked.  Neighborhood streets lined with 4- and 5-foot piles of debris:  flooring, wallboard, toys, clothes, books, furniture…stuff our lives are made of. 
​

I walked the streets stunned.  I talked with people who didn’t think they’d be able to return to the homes they’d lived in for 40 years, to a woman staying with her daughter in another part of town who was worried about the feral cat she’d been feeding for over two years but still wouldn’t let her get close enough to turn him into a house cat, to the mail carrier whose uniform now included a respirator to cover his nose and mouth. 

My head is spinning and my heart aching in this moment during what feels like an endless onslaught of violence – in deeds and in words.  The depth and breadth of suffering at the hands of both nature and humans these last weeks has been mind boggling and heart wrenching.

This whole year, in fact, has been one of so much grief, tension, violence, struggle, combativeness.  It’s been so painful for so many, and it feels hard to see how or where it will end.

My heart goes out to all who have suffered, and continue to suffer - in Las Vegas, in Puerto Rico, in Florida, in Texas.  My heart goes out to all who are suffering…whatever the reason, wherever they are.
. 
In this moment, I feel compelled to reach out – to make some effort to create and fill some space with feelings of connection, compassion, kindness. 

I want, maybe I need, to pause for a bit to just feel and acknowledge pain and suffering – my own and that of others. 

I want to send into the universe my deep wishes for some peace, for greater ease and safety and health and well-being for all.   I want to reaffirm my own commitment to work toward that end.  

I invite and encourage you to do the same - in whatever way, and in whatever place you're able.

If you're on Cape Cod, I hope you'll stop by The APP Space Sunday October 15th for A DAY of Peace (originally scheduled for Sept 21).  click to learn more

I applaud all those on the field who today are standing, locked arms, showing both incredible solidarity and resistance (some would say 'defiance').

My wish, my want, my hope, is that we can help all see that it is not the country, the flag, that we oppose, it's what that flag has come to represent for many.

People are protesting not America but the disconnect between what we say we're about in this country, and the lived realities for so many.

I so hope we can RECLAIM the flag - make clear what we DO BELIEVE, what we DO VALUE, what we WILL stand strong to Protect.  In this moment, we need to say clearly what our flag truly represents and for what it stands. 

I wrote this flag pictured here some months ago. I encourage you to write your own, or to share this one.

Let's get the conversation stripped back to shared values, and align as human beings - and force the conversation to a focus on the people of this country - our health and wellbeing, and not on party politics, frames of 'us' and 'them'.

We need to stand together - to help one another get through the natural disasters and the other national disasters of these times.  Let’s take our cue from the ballplayers who stood arm in arm on the field as the national anthem played.  We have to talk to each other, look out for each other, stand together.  Let’s lock arms.

If you do not feel free to share your thoughts, or you don’t have a forum or place where you feel heard, I welcome you to write or talk to me.  I want to hear it.  Not platitudes, but personal feelings and experience and needs and values.  Can we get back there? 

 

Everyday Life  Post the 2016 Election:  An Invitation to Participate

Every day I meet people who talk about how their lives have been influenced by the election and its aftermath.  Many people are stressed, tired, depressed, anxious, and are struggling in some of the relationships most important to them.  And some people feel just fine and don't know what all the fuss is about.

I think it's time talk...and listen...and try to hear and understand one another.

Toward this end, I am inviting people to participate in on-on-one interviews and facilitated group discussions that focus on the influence of the 2016 election on our personal and everyday lives.  

These conversations are not about changing minds, converting beliefs or positions.  They  are an  effort to 

• Provide safe space for people to speak freely and honestly; 
• Explore and consider the relationship between personal and political in these times;
• Encourage reflection and clear seeing about our own beliefs and values; and ultimately
• Facilitate communication and understanding among and between persons with differing political positions and points of view.

If you’d like to participate send email to me at LifePostElection2016@gmail.com
Please indicate
1. where you live (and if not  on Cape Cod, whether you have skype access)
2. whether you'd like to participate one-on-one or in a group setting

All voices welcome!
Seeking participation from people across the full political spectrum.
If you know others who might like to participate, please share this invitation.

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself in the parking lot of the Brewster Ladies Library doing the most amazing dance!
I'd run into a guy I'd met and worked with on a project about 7 years ago.  We hadn’t known each other socially.  We got talking, and it turns out he supported (and continues to support) Trump.

So we danced.
We started talking calmly about why we each felt as we did regarding the election, and what's been happening since. Then things heated up.  

We moved closer together, then farther apart.  We got louder and more intense, then we backed off.  

As I write, I just keep seeing the two of us in 18th century formal garb, in an elaborate ballroom, gloved hands separated by a handkerchief, never getting too close as we moved around the floor.

It didn't escape our notice that what was happening in our encounter was happening all over the country – in one way or another.

Each of us had enough interest in not walking away angry, or maybe it was that we each has enough curiosity about how to do this (talk with each other, hear each other), that we were able to stay with it.  We kept stepping up and stepping back.


At one point we were going to end and go our separate ways (we'd be in that parking lot for some time). As a gesture, as if to say 'we're good,' he stepped in for a hug.  I pulled back.  I wasn't ready.  I can't now remember what it was I still needed to say, but I needed to say something that I felt he hadn't heard or I hadn't said or was somehow important to me but seemed lost in our exchange.

And again, more committed to ending on a good note than to 'winning,' he let me say what I needed to. And he made a gesture that told me he heard me (maybe he repeated it back...it's funny that I can't now remember).

And then I was ready.  We did hug goodnight.  

And before we parted, my friend (dance partner?) pointed out that we’d each used the word ‘abhor’ expressing our feelings about the person for whom the other voted.  Abhor.  Now that's a pretty strong word!  That's not simply comment on what's happening in the world around us, that's personal!  
Something deeply personal had been tapped into - for both of us, and I suspect for many of us, all across the country, regardless of where on the political spectrum one stands.


So we agreed to step back, to each consider what that level of intensity was about, why we both used the word 'abhor.'  
We agreed to resume another day.  
We haven't yet, but I suspect we will.

I’ve not kept it secret how I have felt about the election, the new president, and the administration he put in place.  And I do believe there is much to resist in these times.

And while I believe “RESIST" served well as a soundbite to rally people and motivate millions to turn post-election emotion into action, I can't help but wonder whether it now may undermine the effectiveness of those of us truly committed to protecting people, the planet, and American democracy.

​That two syllable, single word, written in all caps (today’s digital equivalent of shouting) is too easily heard (or dismissed) as rejection of everything and/or everyone who voted for the current president, stands to the right of center, or simply is not standing under the banner themselves.

I think we’d be well served to get more specific about what we resist, AND about what we value, support, and believe. 

I suspect regardless of your own positions and beliefs, some who you have labeled ‘them’ actually agree more than disagree with much of what you are for and against. 

Maybe that's not the case, but getting explicit helps us find out.

So one night, I sat down and wrote out what I, Jill L Ross, resist.  

Then I wrote out what I seek to protect, what I value, and what I believe apropos of our country. 
It was a good and clarifying exercise. 
 
I turned my words into the flag below.   This flag, like a mission statement, helps me keep focus when it can feel as though I’m treading water in a raging sea.  This flag marks the shore toward which I am committed to swimming. 
 
I am not resisting everyone who doesn’t see the world, our country, democracy, or people as I see them; I am not resisting everything proposed or supported by any specific person or people, because of who proposed or supports them.  

I don't know that this helps, but at least now, instead of the a soundbite, I have my flag.  I can't insist anyone read it, but I can wave it and I can wear it and I can RESIST soundbites that stop the very conversations I deeply believe we need to have.  We have to use our words!