Beauty And the Beast

 

Okay, I must get my anger and disappointment out on the page. Who are the people who re-elected Trump? Do they not care that he is a serial rapist, a racist, a misogynist, a felon, a man completely devoid of integrity? None of those things are deal breakers?

I do not understand. I do not understand. Will I, ever? Should I try to?

Yesterday, I went into Toronto for a medical appointment (nothing major). On the train in, I found myself looking at everyone with suspicion: Are you a Trump supporter? Are you? Are you happy about the US elections outcome? Do you align yourself with him? I have lost my faith in my fellow human beings.

After the appointment, I headed over to the Art Gallery of Ontario. There are some days you have to take yourself to look at art. I forgot I was hungry. I looked at art. The classics, the landscapes, the portraits, the still-lifes. And then . . . a marvelous collection of wild colour and beauty – the huge quilted canvases by Pacita Abad, a Philippine-born artist. Explosions of magnificence. On the massive quilts suspended from the ceiling – masks, fish, sequins, buttons – all carefully woven and painted into patterns and pictures. It is impossible to look at these without smiling. It might have been my first smile of the day.

On the train home, I hit the crowded rush hour. Packed trains, people standing. I got on and made my way down the length of three cars, searching for a seat. People ahead of me were doing the same. I saw several pause, glance left, then move on. I paused, glanced left. A young man (30-ish) had his backpack on a seat. In a crowded train with standing room only. I did not move on. I was annoyed. 

“Excuse me, can I sit there please?” I asked. Without even looking me, no apology, frowning, he removed his backpack. “Excuse me,” I said again, this time to the man I had to squeeze past to get to the seat, the man who was man-spreading into the now vacant seat beside him. I sat down and squashed myself against the window. Men! People! Commuters! I was angry again, at my fellow humans, at this blatant display of selfishness and lack of consideration.

When will I calm down? When will I stop looking at people and try to ascertain if they’re part of the group who support a malicious man, who want him to be one of the most powerful people in the world, who will not acknowledge his wickedness, will look past his criminal, immoral behaviour because it serves them to do so? I know there are good people in the world, I know, I know. My faith will return. But when? For now I am still angry, confused, and deeply disappointed. It helps that I am Canadian and live in Canada. Only a little.

It helps that there is art and beauty in the world created by people like Pacita Abad.