Finally Cold

The cold is coming. At last.

Yesterday we had the first real frost of the year—almost two months after our average frost date. Tonight, the temperatures will drop below twenty Fahrenheit.  A sudden change from the mild Autumn we’ve be having that has so far been the warmest on record for New England. While I appreciate temperate weather and the possibilities it brings for playing in the garden, walking in the woods and just sitting outdoors on the porch, this warmth is too much. These are scary times.

It feels counter intuitive to say that we need the cold. The winters here in Worcester can be quite harsh. You have to be careful when the temperature is low and the wind is strong. Frostbite can come quickly, even in the city. But we’re all, the humans and the plants and the houses, reasonably well adapted to these particular conditions.

The trees drop their leaves and stand in graceful silhouette. The ground freezes down a foot or two and holds everything in an icy embrace of darkness. Even the koi in the Temple pond seem content to remain nearly motionless in their fish cave below the ice.  And we humans can perhaps enjoy our cozy houses and the excuse to watch a little more TV or read another book that’s been sitting on our bookshelf for too long.

In August, I had the great good fortune of flying over Greenland on a crystal clear day. Melissa and I were flying home after leading a ten-day meditation retreat in Denmark and I happened to open my window at just the right time. I had never before seen the vast beauty of the snow fields and the flowing glaciers so clearly. Having read so much about the concern of the melting ice mass, I was conscious of their fragility even as their grandeur and scale were breathtaking.

This astonishing and ever-changing planet.

This dire crisis.

This precious life.

Good News!

Good news at the polls yesterday. Democrats gained ground in New Jersey, Virginia and many other places. I was especially heartened by the results of the governor’s race in Virginia where Ralph Northam defeated his Republican opponent, Ed Gillespie by a significant margin. For the most part of his career, Gillespie has apparently been fairly moderate and was reluctant to support Trump and his excesses. But during the last months of the governor’s race, Gillespie began the immigrant bashing and touting a Confederate nostalgia that are Trump’s signature call to white supremacists and other hate mongers. AND HE LOST!

Republicans in Congress, whom I continue to try to assume are decent and well-meaning human beings, are faced with an impossible situation. Anyone who has the courage to stand up to Trump’s lies or to name his wild narcissism (thank you Jeff Flake) are immediately attacked by the furies of the white nationalist hate movement. Trump shows loyalty only to himself. Even though he supported Gillespie during the election, the moment Gillespie lost, Trump abandoned and attacked him. No honor among thieves.

Writing this, I’m aware of how satisfying it is to be right and to have my version of reality supported in the stories I read and the stories I tell. I am suspicious of myself, and yet I am still heartened by the turn of events at the polls this past Tuesday. For me, these results signal an awakening of forces of moderation and inclusiveness over Trumps dark cabal of hate and fear.

One more heartening story from the NYTimes Editorial this morning:

In January, a local New Jersey Republican politician, John Carman, mocked the anti-Trump Women’s March by asking on Facebook whether the protest would be “over in time for them to cook dinner.” That so upset Ashley Bennett, a 32-year-old health care worker, that she challenged Mr. Carman for his seat on the Atlantic County Board of Chosen Freeholders. “Elected officials shouldn’t be on social media mocking and belittling people who are expressing their concerns about their community and the nation,” she said during her campaign. If Mr. Carman does it again, it will be as a private citizen. Ms. Bennett defeated him on Tuesday. 

May we all continue to do whatever we can to stand up for all human dignities as we learn to honor each piece of this global web of interdependent life.

The Morning After

When I wrote yesterday morning, I didn’t make the connection that it was the anniversary of Trump’s election. This morning, one year ago was when I woke up to the news that Clinton had lost. I have rarely been as shocked and truly scared for my life and freedoms as I was that morning. I remember getting back into bed and holding my wife as I cried.

Fortunately, my worst fears have not come true yet. Trump’s incompetence has been one of the silver linings in the dark cloud of his administration. His inability to focus on any one strategic issue outside for himself has meant that while he has been wildly successful at creating chaos, his legislative victories have been nearly non-existent.

But Trump’s appointments of the rich, elite and under-qualified to cabinet level posts has been a huge blow to the working of our government – the EPA, HUD, Education Department are all headed by individuals with little experience and with philosophic enmity to the mission of their agencies. Some commentators have suggested that Trump’s only agenda is to tear down what Obama put in place with has no coherent idea what to replace them with. Animosity toward Obama’s legacy seems to be his guiding principle.

David Brooks, Republican commentator from the New York Times, suggested that Trump is playing the role of Abby Hoffman, who successfully disrupted business as usual in the 60’s with his antics. Hoffman, Brooks posits, had the easy job of disruptor and took no interest or responsibility for the outcomes. Trump’s Twitter ramblings and personal attacks are both embarrassing behavior for any grown-up and quite effective disruptors.

One principle I often share in my work with leaders of organizations is that a system is capable of fundamental change only when it is far from equilibrium. This is the good news and the bad news. Here in America, we are now certainly far from equilibrium and there is no guarantee which direction the change will take.

Reconsidering Trump

A friend asked me why I haven’t been posting any writing recently. Though I have lots of reasons, I suspect that some of the main issues are my feelings of anger, discouragement and helplessness about the state of our country.

Last November at this time I was regularly writing about my outrage and confusion at Trump’s election. A year later I still can’t quite believe that our country is led by a man who is leads by deceit, intimidation and fear mongering. Of course, these strategies have been employed by politicians and others seeking power, money and sex for millenia. But our current President and his administration have taken them to new levels that threaten to undermine our capacity to hold meaningful conversations about what is actually happening around us.

Any news or report that Trump doesn’t like is labeled ‘fake news.’ Uncomfortable questions at news briefings are simply ignored or mocked. But, even worse for me is the acquiescence of the Republican Congress that appears to be more interested in scoring political points than in protecting us from the unpredictable and mendacious behavior of the President.

In reading accounts of the rise of McCarthy in the fifties, I never understood how one person could get away with a career of lies and malicious innuendos—why no one stood up to stop him. But now I see how individuals like McCarthy and Trump can utilize the dark currents of human greed, anger and ignorance to accumulate personal power and wealth.

Trump IS our President and he rides atop the dark currents of racism, sexism and economic oppression that have been as much a part of our American history as our democracy, equality under the law and respect for the individual.

How do we use this time in history to recognize and begin to heal the ancient wounds of our country? How do we use our privilege to stand for something more than comfort and division? How do we keep our hearts open AND act powerfully together to support the mutuality of our fragile web of life on this blue-green planet?

What shall we do?

Poem for My Daughter Turning Thirty-One

At your invitation, we visit
the Rothko paintings and
shoulder-by-shoulder stand
18 inches (as instructed) from
the shimmering color canvases
to consider how we might enter in.
Appreciation shifts perception
and together we begin to see
what we had not seen before.
Later, in bright plastic chairs
on the museum lawn, you
remember how I told you
that the word is not the thing itself
and how you looked at the door knob
of the closet in your five-year-old
room and pondered how
this might be true.