Am I the only one buffering like a computer with too much incoming data?
I haven’t finished writing my piece about deportations and already we’ve moved on to the insecurity of Mar-a-Lago as a place to meet foreign leaders, and then the resignation of Michael Flynn, and finally the Russian missile test. And I completely skipped over the story last week about the silencing of Elizabeth Warren during the Senate debate over Jeff Sessions.
Indeed, the firehose of news bursts forth.
Anyone remember the dress that was white and gold? Or was it black and blue? Those were the good ol’ days. The days of blissful Trumplessness.
During these times of confusion it’s important to stay rooted. Trees with deep roots can bend in the wind without breaking. Don’t let the noise overtake you. Reconnect. Go into silence. Turn off your feeds. Pray.
My family flew to Park City, Utah last week for my husband’s medical conference/ski trip. I escaped into retreat-mode there, except for newspapers and books, and I kept the newspapers to a minimum. (I was reluctant to completely let go of the news; I was worried they might ban the travel of liberals and I wouldn’t be able to get back to NC.) (In case you didn’t know already, I could be described as a liberal. There, I said it. I’m your token liberal friend.)
Anyhoo… it was refreshing to duck out of social media for awhile. I picked up a book and read it cover to cover; how’s that for blissful ignorance? (It was Commonwealth, by Ann Patchett, if you want to borrow it.) I went running at 7000 feet altitude (twice) and didn’t pass out. (Success!) I wandered up and down Main Street and into art shops admiring paintings of aspens and Wasach Mountain landscapes. I listened to the voices of other languages; Park City attracts skiers from all over the world. There were French, Italian, German, and Chinese people passing me by on the street. I rode a gondola at night to an elevation of 8000 feet with my eyes shut tight most of the way. The world below was beautiful when I peeked, city lights like stars, me hanging by a cable.
I returned to a yard full of blooming daffodils, a gift from my friend, Global Warming. I gaze at them now in my vase. Are we at the end of civilization as we know it? Is this what paradigmatic change looks like from the inside? Will my friends still love me after I confessed to liberal thinking? Is my green tea actually green?
Friends, I love you. Let’s bear one another through this. Let’s remember the soul connections we had before the words liberal and conservative and Donald Trump came into our daily vernacular. Can we be one another’s certainty during uncertain times? Can we practice agape? Let’s stay rooted in our source of life. Only when we are rooted do we know in what ways to act. Only when we are rooted will we see with clear eyes.
When we are rooted, we can love.