Ampersand Gazette #88

Welcome to the Ampersand Gazette, a metaphysical take on some of the news of the day. If you know others like us, who want to create a world that includes and works for everyone, please feel free to share this newsletter. The sign-up is here. And now, on with the latest …  

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In the Dark, We Found Joy

We took out a candle, lit it and finished our dinner. In darkness. In complete silence.

On April 28, the so-called Great Blackout, one of the strangest days of our lives, left all of the Iberian Peninsula in the dark. For over 10 hours we were completely cut off, unable to make phone calls or connect to the internet. The three of us—my partner, my 6-month-old daughter and me—had no such luck. Now it was nighttime. Fear and all its ghosts might have lurked.

Other things were quiet. The burglar alarms were not working. The security cameras had gone blind. No one was able to call the police. This, then, might have been a night dreamed of by thieves. A night when the evil-minded would seize the cover of darkness and all that silence. But they did not.

This was no nightmare. Indeed, the Great Blackout was the opposite. It was like a dream—a world populated only by the kindest among us, evil intentions quashed.

All around, everything I saw underscored how the world carried on peacefully. It seemed everyone embraced the day with a good dose of humor and—dare I say?—even joy. Somehow we knew that everything would be fine. That there would be no muggings, no threatening disorder. Somehow we knew that no one would pull out a gun. This was not one of Hollywood’s apocalyptic films. Quite to the contrary: Calm, generosity and dedication among public servants and workers prevailed.

Perhaps that is the great difference between the forces of the far right—in America, in parts of Europe, now insisting the only true path is one of individualism, each man for himself—and the trust that the European welfare state that I was raised with builds in the minds of a community. Here we found we had trust in others and in our country, in the sense of community. Is there a more powerful weapon than that? Is there a greater shield than that? Knowing that others are there to help you, not to harm you, that we each need one another. That is the key.

That is not to say we are invincible. We in Spain have lived again and again through moments that show us our very vulnerability. But accepting we are vulnerable, each of us, should mean we rely on one another more, not less, that individualism and isolationism are not the path forward. In fact, what I saw this week is how much we are strengthened as a society and as individuals when we choose joy and mutual support rather than fear in the face of adversity. That choice allows us the privilege of feeling safe at home and in the streets.

It was not until the wee hours that night, long after the three of us had tucked ourselves into bed, that we noticed a few house lights flickering back on. My partner and I smiled. What a relief. Everything was fine. Our baby girl was sleeping blissfully. We plugged in our phones and our computers. And we went back to sleep. 

Excerpted from a Guest Essay by Paco Cerdà in The New York Times

“In the Dark, We Found Joy”
May 3, 2025 

Mr. Cerdà’s descriptions reminded me of the first few months of Covid in the U.S. One of the images that struck me then, and has stuck with me to this day, was of clear skies in Los Angeles, because everybody quit commuting to work. Do you remember? At the time it was hailed as an easy, cooperative, financially-viable solution to climate change. 

That’s not the country we live in now, is it? We’re in the upswing phase, yet again, of patriarchy, boasting free booster shots of vitriol to be wielded by anyone who is white, male, and nationalistic. That we could still live in a country wherein anyone could tweet, “Your body, my choice,” is unfathomable. 

And yet … and yet … and yet … that isn’t all. 

Oh no, many other things are happening. Many. 

People are rising, and gathering, and peacefully protesting.
Others are changing their minds.
Universities are fighting back.
The judiciary keeps saying no, and no, and no again. 

What really grabbed me in Mr. Cerdà’s words was the darkness.  

Generally, the psychological associations humans have with darkness are frightening. But have you ever planted pansies? Or carrots? I have. 

And you know what? The most important thing about pansies and carrots is that the magic that makes both happens in the dark. Yes, yes, they both need sunshine, and water, and soil and a whole host of other things to thrive, but then, once all those details things are in place, it’s what happens in the dark that matters. 

A first grader could tell you that if you get all those components together, and then dig up the seeds you planted, you won’t get pansies or carrots. There really is no exception to that rule. 

The same holds true for babies, and for books, come to that. 

What’s vital happens in the dark. 

So if the world feels to you right now like a very dark place, get still. 

I’m sure you’ve heard it said that things are always darkest before the dawn. The version of that saying that better speaks to me is from drawing: the darkest dark is always next to the lightest light. That’s actually how an artist makes three dimensions on a two-dimensional surface, known commonly as perspective. 

That’s what the dark has for us now, Beloved, perspective. Think of what was. Think of what is. Here’s the best part, if you want what-is to be different, hunker down in the darkness of your mind, and imagine what-will-be. Vividly. 

Then tell somebody else what you imagined. Soon enough, we, like the Spaniards and the Portuguese, will grasp that joy, that fundamental building block of life that can only be found, and brought forth out of the dark.

That’s where we’ve stashed the sense of community we all need, too. “Knowing that others are there to help you, not to harm you, that we each need one another. That is the key.” And that knowing, like all true knowing, happens in the dark. 

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Humankind(ness)

Today, we're sharing a story from reader Holly A. in Haines City, Florida. 

“I have been struggling lately with my own connection to others in these divisive times, with my ability to offer grace and kindness amidst so much intolerance and hate, to find my own humanity in an inhumane world. Five years ago, at the start of the pandemic, my husband and I placed plastic Easter eggs on the lawns of every home in our subdivision with a message of hope inside. I thought there was maybe someone who needed that message in that egg.  

So this Easter, I decided, despite my trepidation, to revive my hope eggs this time for my coworkers, leaving 120 plastic eggs all over the building with chocolate and my simple message, 'On this day and all days may you find light, hope, strength, voice, connection, compassion, peace, renewal…and chocolate.' 

As everyone found their eggs .... people began thanking me with hugs and tears in their eyes, even people I didn’t know came to introduce themselves .... I had no idea how many people had been feeling the same way I was and how much those simple words would begin to create new connections and open hearts that were as guarded as mine. In dark times, we are tasked with finding even the smallest bit of light and sharing it with those around us. It is that tiny spark that stands to ignite not only the humanity in others but just as importantly to remind us of our own.”

From a story by Holly A. in Haines City, Florida, in the 1440 Daily Digest
“Human(kindness)”
May 3, 2025 

Holly A. is far from alone. This will come as no surprise to anyone right now.  

Yet so often, when people have an impulse like the one Holly did, we imagine doing it, and we diss it as corny or sentimental. The point is we censor ourselves, and we don’t act on it very often. 

Then we wonder why people aren’t more inspired! Um, what? 

It is said that hope springs eternal in the human breast, and my experience of life, despite its ups and its downs, is that this is completely true, but not if we squelch our own inspirations that might inspire hope in others, and thereby, in ourselves. 

What did Holly discover? She wasn’t the only one feeling as she did. And what did her gesture do? It created connections. It opened hearts. 

We live between two lifelong Republicans. One is kind, gentle, measured and has granddaughters. So appalled was he that a man could be running for president who was convicted of sexual assault, he voted for the other team for the first time in his life. The guy on the other side is a MAGA-maniac. There’s no talking to him. Not about these subjects. 

However, no matter the voting patterns or political affiliations or informed/misinformed belief systems, no matter any differences, both men need hope to keep going. So do we all. 

Of note, all the etymology resources I use say hope is a word of unknown origin. The most interesting thing to me about those entries is that hope is listed as a verb first. That makes hope first and foremost a verb—an action, not a noun. The noun form is defined as confidence in the future.  

And that’s exactly what hope actions bring us: the ability to have confidence in our future. But caveat emptor, Beloved. That future is a shared one, not a solo one. It’s going to require new connection(s) and open heart(s). 

And it’s only going to begin when individuals reach out to connect and open their hearts. My speculative fiction series, Subversive Lovelies, is based on the notion that someone always goes first. 

What if that someone is meant to be you? 

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Here’s a universal affirmation. It works every time, for everyone, always and forever …

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 Last Wednesday when I got up, I checked the bestseller status of Oklahoma! Hex and discovered that Amazon had changed the price—yet again! I wrote to KDP and demanded that they restore its permafree status. Between you and me, I’d bet a dollar that KDP never does that to Penguin.  

But anyway, that day, as opposed to other times, it took KDP three hours to restore the price. So that was a little piece of published happiness this week. For what it’s worth, I think they changed it back so fast because I didn’t get mad, I didn’t go into resistance, I didn’t do anything negative with this event. I just wrote to KDP and told them to knock it off, and they did. Metaphysicians take note! 

P.S. They’d also changed the prices of Attending Physician and Jezebel Rising! Three in two days! I wrote again, and both of these were restored the same day, too. Will wonders never cease? 

 Spirituality, in all its magical disguises, is going to have to be a part of our global recovery. One way to define that is a sense of one’s own proper place in the universal scheme of things. Without that self-definition, it can be hard, and sometimes impossible, to create connection with others. Like Archimedes, lever or no, first, you need a place to stand, and that place within is foundational. Without that, the lever is useless, and so is connection. My real curiosity here is: do you have spiritual questions dinging around in your mind that you want answered? Agreement with me is not required, but if you’re thinking about it, whatever it is, others might be too, and it’s well worth engaging over. AMA spiritual. Please.  

 I finished Impending Decision, Book Five of The Boots & Boas Romances, on May Day, our fourth wedding anniversary! I’d known the ending was coming, and soon, but when I got into it, I realized there were a lot more loose ends than I’d originally thought. That day, I wrote over seven thousand words! Not kidding. I even shocked myself. The other thing that happened is that the order of the books shifted so now the next one, a novella, is called Assenting Transition, and it’s Greg and Geoff’s story.  

 Jaq Direct, the final book of The Subversive Lovelies, my speculative fiction series, is now over the two-thirds mark and counting. I realized, when I finished Jayne that I had to re-read all of Jaq’s story because there were strands I’d forgotten I’d started that need to be resolved in order to finish the book! Good thing I did, too, because I ended up with a whole page of unfinished business. I patted myself on the back for this. It’s too easy to lose threads as a discovery writer, and very hard to go back in and fix it when you’re done. Trust me on this. 

I have a bunch of things in all different pots simmering on a stove with a bajillion burners in my creative mind awaiting creative expression. Did you know that this is why you can’t copyright an idea? Nope. You can only copyright the expression of an idea—a very different matter. That’s why I’m so disciplined about my writing. Unless I express it, the idea is just an idea. It’s when it takes form that the magic happens. Or, maybe not. It’s the process of the idea becoming expressed is where the magic happens, and oh, I do like me some magic. 

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My review request this issue is … if you love queer romance, would you please read Attending Physician—the permafree book that starts my Boots & Boas Romances? If you love it, would you leave a stellar review?  

My goal is 100 reviews!

Reviews really are the engine that powers the career of an indie author. 

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Oooh, I am psyched. Tony Amato, my favorite editor, as you will discover, is doing a Fiction Critique Workshop starting on June 2nd through July 7th for six weeks. This is a workshop for writers who have a draft of a book that they’re ready to begin revising.  

Here’s what he wrote about it on his substack Subscribe here.: 

You will get group feedback on up to 15 pages/4,000 words of manuscript from a cohort of 5 writers (including yourself) as well as extensive private feedback from me. Members will have the option of a one-hour meeting with me at a 30% discount ($100). The fee is $400 for the workshop, or $500 if you opt for a private meeting.Email me: anthonyjosephamato@gmail.com to register. If you’ve never done something like this, it’s well worth it. 

Also, this is cool. The ever talented Helen Boyd Kramer did an interview with Tony, so you can get a taste of the kind of person you’d be working with.  

Tony Amato is my favorite editor for lots of reasons, but mostly because he’s a uniquity. A very fancy word for one-of-a-kind. His bushel of  talents serves authors and their books in a way unlike any other editor I know. May I encourage you to reach out if you need book-husbanding? Seriously, this is the guy. He’s edited my books for more than 20 years, so I ought to know. Find him here.  

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Five Quarts: A Personal and Natural History of Blood by Bill Hayes 

From the blurb … “We’re born in blood. Our family histories are contained in it, our bodies nourished by it daily. Five quarts run through each of us, along some sixty thousand miles of arteries, veins, and capillaries. Bill Hayes is our guide on a whirlwind journey through history, literature, mythology, and science by means of the great red river that runs five quarts strong through our bodies.
The journey stretches from ancient Rome, where gladiators drank the blood of vanquished foes to gain strength and courage, to modern-day laboratories, where high-tech machines test blood for diseases and dedicated scientists search for elusive cures.
This is also a personal voyage, in which Hayes recounts the impact of the vital fluid in his daily life, from growing up in a household of five sisters and their monthly cycles, to coming out as a gay man during the explosive early days of the AIDS epidemic in San Francisco, to his enduring partnership with an HIV-positive man.
As much a biography of blood as it is a memoir of how this rich substance has shaped one man’s life, Five Quarts is by turns whimsical and provocative, informative and moving. It will get under your skin.” 

This book was a surprise to me. The interweaving of the author’s story of his marriage to his HIV-positive partner, and the idiosyncratic, in the best ways, aspects of the history of blood that he’s ribboned throughout is provocative, evocative, and charming.  

I so appreciated the personalizing of how blood works in a human life—from cutting your finger slicing carrots to massive injuries to worldwide disease, Bill Hayes extracts the humanity in blood all the while memorializing its sanctity. A wonderful read.

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Are you waiting for a sign?
How about this one? 

In the U.S., this is Mother’s Day weekend.
That can mean all sorts of things to all sorts of folx.
Yellow roses were my mother’s favorites. 

What I want to know is: are you in need of some mothering?
And if you are, where are you getting it?
Because it doesn’t always have to come from
bio mothers.

In fact, mothering can come from
deep within the darkness of the self.
Instead of getting caught in your own mothering
by others or of others,
let it go. 

Come into an awareness of the
Cosmic Mother.
She is that Great Space
within which all of life
exists. 

Look around.
Appreciate the spaces you inhabit.
And if there are mothers you need to thank
for their care,
go for it. 

I am, without doubt, certain that And is the secret to all we desire.
Let’s commit to practicing And ever more diligently, shall we? 

Until next time,
Be Ampersand.  

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