aoi_to_midori

First, the 2024 Activism Report.

• aseanchai and I have written 20 voter registration postcards with Field Team 6 this week. That's 20 postcards so far this year.
• I've made four scarves to donate so far this year. Three are packed and ready to be sent to East Kentucky Mutual Aid. The fourth will be donated to either Re-Member or Knit the Rainbow.

( Of communities, goals and gym memberships )

I'm fairly active on Twitter these days, thanks to friends from my gaming group that frequent the site. A while back I created a thread in which I noted a certain degree of disdain for more recent sci-fi, specifically sci-fi films. It was inspired by a screenshot of an Ursula K. LeGuin interview that struck a chord with me; I used it to explain that the sci-fi genre seemed hellbent on advocating for dystopian futures, which would inevitably lead sci-fi fans to desire such futures (or at least allow for them) in the real world. I've copy/pasted it below the cut, for anyone who is interested in reading it.
( On distopian sci-fi, turning to fantasy and demanding better visions. )

Recently - very recently, in fact - I've realized that I may have to reassess my thoughts about the genre, or at least admit that I had a serious blind spot regarding a particular sci-fi franchise. But to get there, I'll have to start with something that happened almost a month ago - namely, the Cleveland Orchestra's performance of The Fellowship of the Ring: In Concert.

aseanchai and I had waited two years to see this show. The films originally came out in the early 2000s and were an integral part of my college experience. The music, of course, was incredible - I'm not ashamed to say that I had more than a few emotional moments as I listened to the orchestra and two(!) choirs bring the score of the film to life. When the concert ended, both aseanchai  and I were surprised to remember just how much we loved the film, along with the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy. But what really shocked me was how deeply the themes of the film resonated now that I was older. World events seemed dire when the films were originally released, but it sometimes feels that things are even worse in many ways now. (The concert took place right around the time it seemed that Joe Manchin would doom climate legislation; I was feeling particularly on edge about that.) On the way home, both of us decided that we would need to give the original trilogy a rewatch, if only to provide some distraction from all manner of bad news.

We did just that. I'd purchased the Extended Editions of Lord of the Rings years ago, but I'd never really had much of an opportunity to watch them. (I had moved home after college, and neither my family nor my old high school friends were at all interested in viewing them.) I was struck by how much of a balm the movies were, how so much of the overall story of the trilogy is about retaining hope, even in the most seemingly hopeless of circumstances. (It's no secret that Tolkien's Catholicism influenced his writing, but perhaps I needed time to grow and mature in order to really see it.) 

And there were other themes as well. At a time when I was despairing about whether or not my attempts at political and social activism were truly making any difference, it was nice to see films in which "small" people can have outsized influence, and where mutual aid is seen not just as an obligation but a literal lifeline in trying times. One scene in particular struck me - that of the warning beacons of Gondor carrying their wordless message across the countryside to Rohan, where Aragorn sees them and sprints into the throne room of Théodin. "The beacons are lit!" he shouts, running to the leader of Rohan. "Gondor calls for aid."

There is a pause, and then Théodin stands. "And Rohan will answer!" he proclaims.

That moment stuck with me. So often we see beacons these days - on Twitter, on Facebook, on Reddit, via so many other sites and means. So many calls are made every day, and we must make the decision to answer. I decided I wanted to, the next time a major disaster came up. Even if it only meant carrying messages along.

I wouldn't have long to wait. A few days after finishing up the trilogy, Eastern Kentucky would be disastrous and deadly flooding. I set about doing what I could to pass along messages about needs and aid, doing what small things I could for people.

And in doing so, I ended up encountering a group I'd never heard of that was practically in my backyard, and one I never would have expected working with.

They're called The Federation.