Screaming Into Snow
Today is Wednesday, midweek. Snow is expected. I am happy that the snow will cover everything in a blanket of ice-white-crystal. I hunger to see all, everywhere, the possibility of purity. I know, I know this is a psychological need, a fabricated abstraction, akin to what Plato meant by “the good.” . Such abstractions are important. My sense of self is tethered to belief that goodness is possible. It is possible to live well, with others, sharing the aspiration for fair reciprocity, a give and take of mutual care.
I confess to being in a state of recovery. For a day or so I have reeled at news reports of thousands of government employees, public servants given an ultimatum to resign and receive pay through September, or risk dismissal. The meat-axe approach to reducing overhead comes from Elon Musk, a Trump disciple. And then there was the offhanded remark by the President that Gaza could be developed into a upscale resort, and Palestinians exiled to live elsewhere. As is his habit he later doubled down upon this thug-like notion of just taking some one else’s land. He simply wants their land. Recovery from this gangster type expression of intent takes time, and self-care. Times like this I want to scream.
Screaming into into the snow helps to muffle the scream…
These words written by Rebecca Solnit came by way of Rob Brezsny’s Freewill Astrology email newsletter.
They want you to feel powerless and to surrender and to let them trample everything, and you won’t let them. You are not giving up, and neither am I. The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything — and everything we can save is worth saving.
You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what, and right now good friends and good principles are worth gathering in. Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. In this tide of hate, remember what love is.
You can be heartbroken or furious or both at once; you can scream in your car or on a cliff; you can also get up tomorrow and water the flowerpots and call someone who’s upset and check your equipment for going onward.
Many of us are under direct attack, and many are going to resist by building solidarity and sanctuary. Gather up your resources, the metaphysical ones that are heart and soul and care, as well as the practical ones.
There is no alternative to persevering. That does not require you to feel good. You can keep walking whether it’s sunny or raining.
Take care of yourself and remember that taking care of something else is an important part of taking care of yourself — because you are interwoven with the trillion things in this single garment of destiny that has been stained and torn, but is still being woven and mended and washed.
— Rebecca Solnit
