Dona Nobis Pacem

My best friend Starr Ann and I spent much of yesterday brainstorming over what to say about Peace for this year's BlogBlast.

In the morning, while we were cleaning stalls, Starr Ann had herself an idea that featured me writing a poem about Peace. Well, after hearing me try out a few lines, Starr Ann realized she'd overshot. Can I help it that Peace so temptingly rhymes with grease, police, and almost with squeeze? Anyway, no poem.

Dona Nobis Pacem

My best friend Starr Ann happened to walk by my computer yesterday just as I clicked on the Zogby Poll link.

She said, "Margo, the election's over. Why are you checking for poll results?"

I tried to cover. "Um, did I hit Zogby? I meant to check the weather."

Starr Ann let the incident pass, but she had that one look on her face that meant she wasn't really letting it pass.

By noon, I had to admit that I wasn't making a smooth transition from bitterness and bile to calm acceptance of hope.

Then, I realized Blog Blast for Peace Day was almost upon us. You know, a few weeks ago, I had wondered if the timing this year, with Peace Globe day falling just two days after this extraordinary election, would be like having your birthday fall during Christmas week. But now that we're here, I think the timing must have been Goddess approved.

What more graceful way to begin our journey from the mindset of the last 8 years than to saturate our thoughts with the meaning of peace and to spend the next few days reading among the thousands of amazing Dona Nobis Pacem posts?

Starr Ann has taken charge of my campaign withdrawal. She says that every time I reflexively try to check the news, I'm supposed to go to my Dona Nobis Pacem search results instead. I can't wait to get started.

As for my own thoughts on Peace this day? I'm trying to reconcile the hope in my heart over President Obama's election with my despair over the plight of those who won't make it to see whether he lives up to our incredibly high expectations - new refugees in the Congo who aren't going to make it, American troops who are yet to be killed, all the species that aren't going to make it - the list could go on far longer than we have time for here.

But Starr Ann and I will keep reminding ourselves of the Osiris myth - the one where the main goal in life is to make it through with a light heart - and in that spirit, we'll allow our souls to soak up the peace while scanning the horizon for ways to spread the joy around.

Okay, that's it. I'm off to check out the Zog-, I mean my Dona Nobis Pacem search results.

Dona Nobis Pacem

There was only time to act. Starr Ann saw to that.

After a fifteen-hour sleep, Starr Ann took a sip of the coffee I had waiting for her this morning and said, "The Posse should start arriving any time. Do we have the boots?"

I nodded yes about the boots, and Starr Ann caught me up on what she had planned. Hard to believe one little cowgirl got so much arranged in such a short time. Goddess, that's my Starr Ann.

Lori and Jodie got here before that first cup of coffee was halfway gone. Jodie was stunning in a beige brushed cotton shirt with a turquoise bandanna around her neck. Lori cut a heroic figure in midnight blue tailored slacks and a white silk shirt, flared just right at the neck. One glimpse of them, and I realized I needed to get to my room and change.

By the time I got back, they were all there. Quieter than I've ever seen them.

Frannie, smiling but subdued, was on the couch with CJ and Joyce, telling them about the conversation she'd had with Jamila that night of the big campfire and snowball toss. Seems Jamila liked to sketch, and she'd promised to send Frannie some impressions from Iraq. In a month or two, after she and Lane got their bearings.

Over by the window, looking outward, Nina and Gina had their arms around each other, slightly swaying, not saying a word.

Lost in thought, JoeyJo and Heather did what they could to pacify Bates and keep him out of trouble. When Bates growled and nipped at Heather, JoeyJo snapped out of her reverie and said, "Never saw the little monster take to anybody the way he took to Jamila. Did you see her put her face right up to his that night?"

Mimi wiped her cheek and pretended to have something to do in the kitchen. She didn't.

Over by the front door, Eryll was speaking softly to Folkrockgirl, who looked like her young heart was about to break.

The only one sitting alone was Cap'n Dyke, and her stony expression left no doubt she wanted it to stay that way.

I'd had just enough time to scan all these precious faces when Starr Ann came in the front door. She took a deep breath. "Okay. Everybody knows their part. I brought Lightning around. Jodie, great job with the wagon. Lori, what about Lane?"

Lori said, "Starr Ann, honey, I don't think she's going to come with us."

Starr Ann didn't say a word, just walked upstairs. Fifteen minutes later, we were all rushing over to help her maneuver Lane into the wheelchair.

Lane was saying, "Starr Ann, please! It's not gonna help anything."

Starr Ann looked around at everybody, then back to Lane. "Did you ever think it might help us?" And before Lane could get any angrier, or say no again, Starr Ann wheeled her onto the front porch.

At the foot of the steps was the old fashioned buggy Jodie borrowed from the saloon girls in town. They must have worked real hard to get it that shiny. And the dark upholstered seat was all fixed up with a soft extension for Lane's leg to rest on. Alongside, all the pretty Posse horses stood calm and steady, not moving much more than to swish a tail.

Out in the grass, slick and handsome as could be, Lightning stood under English tack, with Jamila's boots reversed in the irons.

Lane didn't move a muscle for a long time. Then she sighed, pulled her gaze from Lightning, and inclined her head toward the buggy. "Will you lift me into it, please?"

Starr Ann led Lightning on foot, with Lori driving Lane just behind and the Posse trailing, all the way to the river. We stopped there on the bank for a few minutes of peaceful silence. When a hawk flew over, circled, came back and soared off again, we watched her until she was a speck on the sky, then just the memory of the speck.

Starr Ann took Jamila's boots from the stirrups and placed them in Lane's arms with such care, then she removed Lightning's tack and set him free. He picked a few bites of sweet river grass and sauntered over to sniff at a shiny wet rock. Then, a blue streak of horse electricity shot through him and he kicked his heels real high before striking off toward home. By unspoken consent, we all let our horses run right with him. I barely had time to swoop Starr Ann up with me, so we trailed back with Lori and Lane, but by the time we turned for that last run at the barn, we were one big herd, pure nerve, muscle and sweat.

I don't have to hope Jamila was with us. None of us does. There's a peace in our hearts that tells us she was.

Dona Nobis Pacem

All there is, is atoms and space. Everything else is illusion. (Melissa Etheridge)


Special Guest Blogger: Starr Ann

Have you ever heard of a Partners Desk? My best friend Margo (hi, Margo) and I have one of them. A Partners Desk has two fronts, so the partners can sit across from one another, facing, as they work. Usually, Margo is writing fiction and I'm...well let's just say I'm making plans. Here's a picture of a Partners Desk that's a lot fancier than ours, but at least it gives you an idea what I'm talking about.



Neat, huh? Last night, Margo and I were at our desk working on today's BlogBlast for Peace post. I was having trouble getting started, and my mind began to drift. Margo was concentrating very hard, but she wasn't writing much. You can always tell when Margo gets traction on an idea because her words start zooming all over the place. You probably noticed that if you ever read her stuff. It's like somebody threw a ball bearing into a halfpipe. Words start rolling like crazy, up and down ramps, and flying up in the air and going nearly out of control, until they finally settle once she gets her idea out. I wrote down that image, thinking maybe I'd use it in my half of our peace blog, because when she gets to that point, what you've got is a person at peace.

After about ten more minutes of us both basically spinning our wheels, I couldn't take it any longer. I had to reach into my second drawer from the top and get out my spitball straw. The first spitball hit her on the arm and she barely even noticed. The second one hit her below her collarbone, but all she did was rub once where I got her. The third one hit her writing hand and landed on the page, next to her pen point. I knew there was going to be trouble when she stayed very calm and didn't look up.

Like a crocodile striking from still water, Margo launched herself across our desk and wrestled me to the floor. Strengthwise, we're an even match. But she is ticklish and I am not. I always win because of that. Once I'd tickled her into submission, we were lying on the floor, on our backs, panting hard. Then the endorphins hit and we started giggling and saying whatever came to our heads. Peace was on our minds because of the blog.

Margo said, "Know what's peaceful?"

"Yeah, tickling you silly."

"That too, but I really like being in the barn all by myself listening to the horses eat."

I knew exactly what she meant. I said, "Or working on something, anything, so hard you all of a sudden look up and have no earthly idea what time it is."

"Yeah, that's always good. And then there's that chemical change that happens from crying and how peaceful you feel afterward."

I reminded Margo that I don't cry much. She nodded. Then we started batting peaceful moments and thoughts back and forth.

"The cold, still minutes right before sunrise."

"Salty soup and crackers after you've been sick."

"Joan Baez's voice singing anything. Or talking."

"Watching Ruffian's races over and over and over."

"Falling asleep in a pool of sunlight."

"The moments after orgasm."

"Overhauling the underground bunkers and re-stocking their food supplies."

"That's not peaceful."

"To me it is."

"Reading Willa Cather."

Anyway, you get the idea. We must have been lying there for half an hour when Jodie came walking in. Margo had fallen asleep, so Jodie spoke softly as she eased down beside us. I told her how our attempt to blog about peace had ended up in a fairly violent wrestling match. I recounted for her the peaceful images we'd come up with lying there on the floor.

I said, "All those beautiful, peaceful experiences are wonderful, and I'm so grateful we get to have them. But, do you ever feel guilty for how fortunate we are? Are we the modern, American incarnation of the good Germans?"

Jodie took my hand and squeezed as she thought about that. She stood up and retrieved a copy of our Peace Globe from Margo's side of the desk. "Look at this. The Earth, Nature, is a dynamic system full of beauty yes, but She also thrives on violence. Think about all life through all the ages. How have the vast majority of individual lives ended? By being eaten. Uninterrupted peace isn't natural."

"Are you saying we just stand by? Just let violence take its course?"

"Hell no. We fight it every step of the way. Resist with all our might." Jodie shook her head and smiled. "But that's not what we're talking about at the moment. We're talking about the place of peace in the world. And I believe peace is exactly what you two made of it tonight. You can't feel peaceful all the time, any more than the world is ever going to be bathed in perpetual peace. What you can do, all you can do, is pay damn good attention to the peace that comes your way."

Jodie kissed me goodnight and went home so I could write down these events. We debated over whether to wake Margo up so she could help with the post, but she just looked too peaceful lying there asleep.