Will it be possible to have peace in the upcoming weeks, months, years? Where do I find tranquility? Should I ignore the cruelty? Can I show empathy without sacrificing my sanity? How do I walk through this mayhem with grace and love?
I scream into the abyss, “What do I do now?”
For the past few days I have been riding the gamut of emotions. Anger. Shock. Resentment. Disgust. Despair. Judgment. Fear. Anguish. Dread. Shame.
Yet, I’ve also found calm. I’ve finished a knitting project I’ve been struggling with for the past few months. I took a frigid walk through the botanical gardens. I made peanut butter cookies. I ordered a large cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee that transported me back to the happier days of my first marriage. I’m continuing my dry January with only one hiccup with no regrets on Saturday evening. I meditate in the darkness of early morning and then scratch a few words in my journal. I light a candle.
Despite the sadness that holds my heart hostage, I stomp my foot and stubbornly spout, “I will not give up on hope.” Without hope, there is only a black void of nothingness. Hope is the light, the rope, the bridge, the hand to grab.
What are the concrete things I am doing to hang on to a semblance of repose?
On Saturday evening I signed out of Facebook and Instagram. Not sure if it is permanent, but I need a break from these Meta platforms and the oligarch is charge of them.
Even though my Prime membership just renewed, I will be cutting back on Amazon purchases, especially the ones that can be easily bought at local stores. Perhaps by next year I will cancel. Once again, trying to distance myself from oligarchs.
I decided this morning that I do NOT need to read anything political first thing. Heather Cox Richardson, The Contrarian, and The Bulwark can wait until I’ve summoned my peace.
Speaking of news, months ago I canceled my NYT and Washington Post subscriptions. (more oligarchs and kissing of the ring) Instead, I am reading the Substacks mentioned in #3 and The Guardian, journalists NOT bending at the knee of the mad king.
I am finding pockets of joy every day and writing about them in my journal. Eventually some may find their way to cece’s musings, but for now they are offerings of awe when needed.
I will be gentle with myself. When I do get caught up in the chaos, I’ll allow the tsunami of emotions to spend time with me, but then I’ll kindly ask them to leave. What I do not want to do is live in that mire. There are lawyers, advocates, and leaders out there doing the work. I must trust their knowledge and skills and determination to fight against the tyranny,
I will join the quiet resistance, channeling love and joy and hope. Even yesterday an Episcopalian bishop joined said resistance as she spoke at Washington’s National Cathedral, “May God grant us the strength and courage to honor the dignity of every human being, to speak the truth to one another in love, and walk humbly with each other and our God, for the good of all people - the good of all people in this nation and the world. Amen.”
My morning peace, living in dignity, truth, strength, and kitty love.
What is yours?
My current sources for news: (Do you have any others to share?)
Heather Cox Richardson: Letters From an American
The Contrarian: The Contrarian
The Bulwark: The Bulwark
The Guardian: The Guardian
(You can share my words on your social media platform of choice, if you wish. I’m only going to be sending my newsletters to subscribers, and I’ll post on Bluesky If you’re not a Substack subscriber or on Bluesky, I encourage you to join the movement.)
Missouri Botanical Garden, January 20 at 1:55 pm.
“Everything is on fire,
but everyone I love is doing beautiful things
and trying to make life worth living,
and I know I don’t have to believe in everything,
but I believe in that.”
~Nikita Gill