Who are you when the storm comes?
Happy New Year
I wanted to stop for a minute and write down the emotional detritus of the year 2016. For catharsis, of course.
This year has been big. Divorce, discrimination, heartbreak: I have had some. Yet, personal touchstones of loss deflate when compared to the collective loss our culture, our home has weathered. 2016 was the hottest year ever measured — our planet is changing, forever. Scientific knowledge was mocked and vilified. Racism, misogyny, bigotry, and self-destruction ruled politically. And we continue to kill one another in the streets.
2016 taught me, through a crucible of change and reinvention, that it is much better to die than to not be a true version of yourself. Put a different way, choosing your own authentic life is worth every price that you will (undoubtedly, especially if you are not a white cis dude) pay. What a kick-ass lesson, right? I no longer have the time or the patience to afford a compromised, cossetted existence — my life is happening now, right now.
With the warmth of the dumpster fire that is 2016 at our backs, we are looking directly forward into darkness. Christ, the hate that is coming. The chaos. Unmitigated chaos and power mongering and narcissism.
2017, you are going to be huge (pronounced a la Trump: yooooooghhe). And really scary. And we will rise to meet you. To resist.
Don’t run from the comin’ storm
Cause you can’t keep a storm from comin’
Wailin’ Jennys
2017, you are the storm that is coming. Don’t run, friends. You are not the storm — you are witness to it. The real, deeper question is: who are you when the storm comes? What are we made of, to stand witness to this time? What does the messy business of life, with all the dirty diapers and unread emails and unscooped litter boxes, look like under extraordinary circumstances? What kinds of bonds will we forge, what kinds of love will we make, what kinds of sacrifices will we endure?
We’re about to find out.
With joy and hope for everything and everyone, Happy New Year
