Relative Something

By the end of my third blissful day of isolation from any news, I was briefly thrown back into the repugnant reality of our election outcome by a video post someone shared with Cyndie. We watched it together. A man speaking directly to the camera, speaking to the majority who chose to elect a person who, in my opinion, is so unfit to lead this country that what just happened wouldn’t be believable as a plot in some fictional story.

The harsh reality of our situation –sane people, marginalized people, everyone in countries around the world who didn’t even have a vote– came rushing back to my consciousness in a flash.

I feel like I am living in the movie “The Sound of Music,” and a car of thugs from the new regime might be showing up any day to insist we fly their flag above our doorstep.

If I were to respond in the manner of my personal philosophy, I would conjure feelings of love for the people who have chosen the next President. I’m feeling rather hypocritical in my failure to achieve this for them as a group at the moment. Maybe on an individual basis, I could muster some meager successes. Love the person, not their intentions?

Stop the madness; I want to get off.

In an attempt to return to my happy place, my vacation from the daily news cycle, I recall camping trips where I was completely isolated. There would be no news if I were on an expedition to a remote place. I would be justified in a sole focus on watching my steps, guarding myself from the elements, eating for fuel, and absorbing the beauty and wonder of my surroundings.

I would like to get back to my odyssey of living free from depression on a small rectangle of forest and fields, caring for the land and a few rescued animals, and exploring ways to share love with family, friends, and strangers alike. I’m interested in returning to being able to sleep through the night.

I’m not confident I’ve amassed the necessary provisions. I’m not aware of having any trustworthy maps. I guess I haven’t really planned for this journey. It wasn’t my idea. I guess my expedition is more like being lost at sea.

Ah, but I’ve got my dignity. I’ve got my pride. I’ve got millions of like-minded people who know exactly how I’m feeling. I’m confident we can get through the challenges of the days ahead. But no one likes platitudes. We can’t phrase our way through this trip.

We need to feel our feelings and be honest with ourselves in our choices about what comes next. For my mental health, I intend to continue avoiding the site and sounds of one person in particular until such time I feel better able to cope.

I’m hoping the mountain I am about to climb will be for singing and not as an escape to a safer place.

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