The Wait
I have a confession: I have been trying to write this post for about 6 weeks. Every time I sit down to write, a new big thing has happened in the world that must be accounted for. And I can’t for the life of me find the words to put it all down.
So, for the millionth time, I I am going to try again. Oh! And I'm trying out an apple pencil or whatever they are called. It's not perfect, but it is nice for when I don't have my laptop at home. Using the pencil takes some getting used to, and between the last sentence and this one, I’ve already abandoned it. I need to practice with it to get used to some of the….awkwardness…that comes with writing multiple sentences.
Back to the struggle topic: waiting.
In season 2025 (or do we say season 249?) of the US of A, we are witnessing a collective, heavy wait. We’ve been gearing up for this season over the last decade, at minimum. But, like all things, everything was set in motion long ago. I first felt the weight of the heaviness about 6 weeks ago. A hurricane was approaching the island I live on. The thing about hurricanes is, you don’t know how bad it’s going to be until it happens. The strength, size, direction, and topography of where you live all play a roll. This hurricane was going to hit at least a Category 1. So, not terrible, as far as hurricanes go. But, the island where I live is in a weird spot in the ocean. The part we weren’t going to know until we were in it was the angle at which the storm would hit and the time of day it would arrive, two important factors in the level of potential damage. When I woke up on storm day, the wind had started to pick up, it the rain hadn’t started. So, I made a quick trip to the grocery store for a few last minute items. When I got home, I noticed how quiet it was.
Just for context, my neighborhood has wild chickens, stray cats, yard dogs who bark all the time, tree frogs, and all sorts of other animals that typically make noises throughout the day. So, quiet is rare. Not hearing any animals at all is almost unheard of. But that’s the kind of quiet we had. It was eerie and heavy. And that is when I felt the heaviness of it all. Not just the approaching storm, but everything. It's not that I hadn't noticed what was happening in the word, but more like nature finally had its moment to shout through the silence for us all to pay attention.
And in the last 6 weeks, we've added about a dozen more things to watch and wait. I don't even think I can list them all because they come so fast. Listing might even be futile because of the overwhelm it brings. Nevertheless, here are a few:
What will happen in Gaza, now that the final boat of the Global Sumud Flotilla has been detained. And what was the point of Italy et al sending naval vessels to escort the flotilla if they weren’t prepared to stop Israeli ships?
When will the government shutdown end? Whenever there is a shutdown, I think about the janitors and other “essential” workers who will be forced to work without pay (yes, I know they will get back pay eventually, but that doesn’t help them pay rent or buy groceries now)
What will happen in the Caribbean if the US keeps bombing Venezuelan ships? And will they start sending military to where I live as a staging ground? A very large naval support vessel has already passed by, and there were talks about housing military in an empty housing complex (though I think that set of troops ended up going to Puerto Rico instead)
Will thee be justice for Trey Reed?
Is ICE the new gestapo?
Will it be safe to travel in a few months?
Did I delete enough “controversial” stuff off social media? Are we all already on some list, or will it be up to whether or not the TSA agent/police person/whomever likes us?
Will my Hispanic friends and coworkers be safe (or will their citizenship become irrelevant?)
Will my Muslim friends be safe?
Will my black husband and biracial child be safe if we leave where we are?
Are things “at home” really as bad as they seem? Some say yes and some act as is absolutely nothing is amiss. I can’t get a read on reality.
It is so easy to spiral into the heavy unknown. Avoiding the spiral is just as much a practice as yoga or meditation. There are so many important unanswered questions—questions that sit with the heaviness of an approaching hurricane. There is no way to know. We can only pass through.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
Frank Herbert understood, on some level at least.