A BAD WEEK

      This week has felt like the bad shift when winter first begins and all of a sudden in the morning it's dark, and it is dark in the early evening, and the whole day becomes elliptically squeezed. All hope is lost.

   This was the feeling of the people who called me Wednesday morning in despair: Venezuela—blood for oil again— and Trump’s threats against Cuba and Colombia, and baby bear killer RFK’s dismantling of the vaccine schedule that has been saving millions of children for decades, and the threats to Greenland, and the footage playing all day of January 6.

     There was just nothing in any of our brain pans that could accommodate this much chaos and harm, let alone handle it emotionally. And that was the good old days, because later that morning, ICE agents killed a young widow in Minneapolis, the murder defended within a couple of hours by the Department of Orwellian Gas, I mean DHS, with dog killer Kristi Noem in a festive new cowgirl outfit.

     It felt like we were in free fall. How would we even go on? How do we come through this, fight back, and not give up on this country, on democracy, on the preciousness of life? Where would we even start?

    I said to everyone who called what I always say: We breathe, take care of the suffering and poor, including ourselves, donate whatever we can afford We get outside and look around at the miracle. Praying people pray.

     And for me, most of all, we set Stephen Miller as our North Star: Every day we think of one thing we can do that would make his head ache.

     (Do I think he is the anti-Christ? I don’t know; I’m a drop out. It’s just that I don’t think the anti-Christ would wear his belt up so high. He’s Pat Buchanan, without the charm. And maybe this is harsh and beneath a nice Sunday School teacher like myself, but I am not sure he is Trump’s best conduit.)

     I proceeded to do what I had urged upon everyone who called. I heard when I first got sober in 1986 that we take the action first, and then the insight is revealed. This always helps, and indeed, a flickering hope was restored that afternoon. This deadly storm of evil behavior was going to built solidarity—the next No Kings will be double in size and all over the world. This evil will be a catalyst for change—Look at all the vulnerable House Republicans who are pushing back, and/or resigning.

     So dum de dum, I seriously started feeling calmer about It All. Now, if I were God’s West Coast rep, I would have good and merciful changes happen much more quickly than they’re going to. Lennon told us and I believe him that everything turns out okay in the end, and if it isn’t okay, it isn’t the end. And now I had my North Star.

     Somehow, hope survived the next breaking news, that Customs agents had shot two people in Portland. Sigh. Government agents are going to keep shooting and killing us, and Trump will keep expanding the number of places he might just want to invade. This seems like our new reality, but amazingly, it is only one aspect of it. Let’s not forget good old yin and yang.  That same afternoon, the Senate voted for the war powers resolution, with five Republicans crossing over, and the House voted to extend the Obamacare subsidies for three years, with 17 GOP votes. And the footage from Iran is thrilling, the massive protests in the streets. The government had to shut down the Internet to try and suppress this, but as Jesus said, when those in power try to stifle the news of love and freedom, the stones will cry out.

    Yesterday, all over Twitter, the people of Minneapolis kept posting things along the lines of having panic attacks, but going to have a little lunch or charge there phones and then head back to the streets to try and keep their neighbors safe.

     This courage moves me almost to tears. I wish us praying people could pray a fast turnaround—Remember Flip Wilson saying, “I’m about to pray. Anybody need anything?” This isn’t how it works. How it works is each of us doing one small good thing, every day.

     All the courage I’m seeing around me thrusts me into these deep days of winter, where I notice is how the slant of light is exquisite.