Friday Morning Update: 11/22/24

Rain washes away the snow, leaving only a hint of the momentary wonderland that existed across the yard. An old song suggests, “Forget your troubles, come on, get happy; You better chase all your cares away.” But there is no rain that washes away the pain of cancer or removes the struggle to breathe. No river removes the stain of poor decisions. We struggle to find words, any words, that might communicate the density of the cloud over our mind. None of the pictures I’ve ever taken portray such chaos as that which consumes my being. Temptation urges me to give up, go to bed, and sleep until the world is better, but the world only declines the invitation to improve.
Drama capped Tipper’s trip to Purdue. The bus driver was ready to leave at one time, the guides were expecting to leave later, and their final departure was too late to return to school on time. Waiting parents were upset. Students were frustrated by the apparent incompetency of adults. Who will tell them that too many of the issues they face in high school continue to plague them into adulthood? Is this all they will remember of the trip? No one was left behind. No child was endangered. Everyone returned home. The lesson is to acknowledge the mistakes and move forward.
Trouble makes for an interesting conversation. Anger pushes passion into our speech. We use our words to make trivial issues matter. In the blizzard of emotion, we lose sight of reality. I am not dying today. Control over tomorrow is still mine. Whatever complicates my life is but a nuisance to my existence. Politicians make imaginary threats to pique my fears, but can I choose not to be afraid?
Words fall empty when there is no genuine power behind them. I fuel my own life, such as it may be. Attempts to diminish my existence are folly. The feet in my boots are still mine; I control my path and the steps I take. If I need assistance I request it, but the denial of that request does not keep me from moving forward. When I cannot walk, I will crawl. The day I can no longer crawl, I will employ a mobility device. Frequent naps do not hinder my progress. I choose to move forward, and the world will adjust accordingly.
Warrants may be issued. Threats can be made. Weapons might be aimed. Still, when darkness falls at the end of the day, do we not ask ourselves what has changed? I might question whether I could make a difference, but when I cannot, I accept no blame for the outcome. I am not required to follow a leader I did not choose and do not trust. My loyalty lies not with those who do not know my name, but with those I love, those whose care and existence matter to my sense of humanity. I can protect what matters without ceding an ounce of power to any despot.
Sixty-one years ago, a president was assassinated. Who shot who matters little. The consequences of those actions cannot be changed. Lives taken, no matter where, are not returned. We cannot change what someone else chooses to do after the act is done. A moment that has passed immediately becomes part of a history from which we are obligated to learn. We must answer the questions of how we might stop the bombs from falling and the bullets from being fired. Yet, we cannot change the conscience of those whose minds are committed to evil.
Our choice is to follow paths that magnify our own power. M.I.T. offers free tuition to help a new generation stand on their feet. In California, a 17-year-old woman became the youngest person to pass that state’s bar exam. US overdose deaths have dropped, even though no one is exactly sure why. Better paths exist, though perhaps not lit by neon signs. We choose to find those paths. We choose to make our world better.
The fogginess that clouds my mind and leaves me staring at this page does not prevent me from refilling my coffee cup, giving belly rubs to a dog, or cuddling a cat. My bank account may be empty, but there is enough food to feed the family. Each step may be taken with trepidation, yet do I not still walk? I will eat the food that I prepare. I will take the medicines and endure the poison. My day will continue. Naps shall be my fortress of solitude.
Forward is the path I choose.
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Saturday Morning Update: 11/23/24
Where do we go from here? One of the struggles we all face is that we don’t always get to determine what happens next. We are more frequently pushed across thresholds than we are carried across joyfully. Even when an invitation seems like a good idea at the time, once we’re involved we discover that we’re trapped, unable to go back. Neither do we all share identical experiences through the same time portal. One shuts down an office while another prepares for new life. We may look through the same window yet see different pictures. Is what happens to us next a good thing or will another 350,831 of us die?
Who am I to judge the guilt or innocence of another? Someone must, for there can be no justice without judgment. Am I impartial enough to hold another’s fate in my hands? We may never know, for once again, my service has been declined. What I do know is that justice, no matter how measured, is a highly opinionated beast. Are courts best suited to determine when one begins thinking and acting like an adult? Are schools best suited for religious indoctrination? A country run by criminals has little care for justice.
I look across the bed at the dogs sprawled out, sleeping; they are warm and well-fed. They are not aware of changes until they happen. A differently flavored treat is still a treat. Water outside apparently tastes the same as water inside. They are not bothered by incongruities or worried by idle threats. They do not care what I might cook next week nor how many presents I give next month. Neither do they look at my dwindling account balance and worry whether they’ll be fed. Their food has already been purchased. The dogs sleep blissfully unaware of my angst.
We have transitioned into being a country that champions criminals more than heroes. Perhaps that explains the election outcome. Our desire to see an underdog win outstrips our need for justice. We care less for the number of bodies left in their wake when we have already convinced ourselves that, on one level or another, they deserved to die. Knowing that the wizard has no real power does not keep him from being revered in Oz.
Stubbornly, I dig in my heels. There are thresholds I do not want to cross. Yet, how can I hold your hand if we do not step together? I cannot help those in danger if I’m left standing behind a closed door. I walk into the future not because I care for my own but because I care for those around me. The adventures we face are different than those behind us, but together, we both survive.
I have met my minimum word count. There’s coffee on the other side of the door. This threshold I walk through without hesitation.
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