Perhaps Hillary Clinton’s recent troubles hiding her pneumonia inspired me to ask Maria to take a photo of my bloodshot eyes this morning, my own way of revealing that I have been pretty sick over the weekend, getting out of bed only to go and attend the very lovely reception for my portrait show.
Maria and I have chosen to live an open life in an increasingly secretive, fearful and angry world. Many people find the idea of openness dangerous, all those trolls and guns and hateful politicians out there. I am happy with my open life, and I do not see the world as a dangerous place, or at least not nearly as dangerous as it has been for many people – Africans in Rwanda, Jews in Germany, Christians in parts of the Middle East, slaves in America, refugees in Syria.
It sometimes seems to me that we are becoming a selfish and self-absorbed and gullible people, a consequence maybe of putting labels on ourselves and everyone else and giving up the tiresome work of thinking and feeling and listening.
Being sick is always a spiritual experience for me, it makes me feel very old and weak and vulnerable.
I get these bugs once in awhile, and they are brief and savage. I get depressed, have painful coughing attacks, can hardly talk, struggle to breathe easily, have rheumy eyes and runny nose, and take too drinking too much store-bought cough syrup, which helps me sleep but gives me the most awful nightmares.
When I got home from the portrait show Sunday- I could hardly get through it – I got into bed and Maria fussed and squawked at me, yelling whenever I got too ambitious about moving around. She even made chicken soup, and it was pretty good for a gentile.
We went for a walk this morning, but I am still pretty weak and had to lie down. I am up now, blogging happily, that is the path to recovery. I think a black and white photo shoot today.
I’m also still wrestling with Facebook issues, the blog isn’t posting automatically to Facebook now, and the sharing functions don’t seem to be working properly. The good people at Mannix Marketing are working on it, but in the new world of successful businesses, there is no one at Facebook to speak to, so it’s taking awhile to fix it. They are happy to take our money, but have no need to talk to us.
This morning, I got up and was thinking of Hillary Clinton, and her ideas about privacy and secrecy. I am not a Hillary-hater, I very much hope she wins the election in November, and I believe she will, for all of the hysteria. I have faith in my country, despite its oddities.
But I am more transparent than she is, and openness is a reflex for me, not a strategy. I am liberated, I have no secrets and am free to be myself. In this world, transparency is a path.
When I got up to take a shower, I looked in the mirror and was taken aback by my bloodshot eyes. Hillary, Hillary, I thought, there is no need to hide being sick, it is not a sign of weakness to be sick, or to have bloodshot eyes, or to cough. Don’t be like a guy. In fact, I thought it would be neat to show my bloodshot eyes.
I believe there is nothing heroic about “toughing it out,” although that makes me feel manly, until Maria threatens to slap me around.
“Maria,” I yelled from the bathroom this morning, annoying her a bit as she worked on her very popular Monday morning video, “don’t you think it would be a cool art thing to put up a photo of my bloodshot eyes, sort of an Andy Warhol thing?”
“Sure,” she said, grabbing the camera. “It would be neat.”
I understand I am not a presidential candidate, or anywhere near as important, but I am an advocate for transparency, someone attacked me on a website recently by accusing me of changing my mind about things. Wow, I thought, I have come far. They used to accuse me of murdering puppies. Now, that is the best they can do. Eyes never lie.
