The smallest part of war is the actual battle. The more important parts are planning, training, logistics, strategy.
In the winter, when everything looks dead, there are bulbs and roots and seeds underground, feeding and growing.
Now is the time to build. No single piece does it but everything plays a part. Voting, social media influence, contacting elected officials, running for office, protests, boycotts, donations, community work, mutual aid, investigations and prosecutions, art and music and writing.
Find your lanes. Ignore the doomscrolling that is designed to dissipate the rage into impotence. Use the rage to fuel the work. And be loud and proud about it.
No one around me will acknowledge this - they’re all busy pretending it won’t affect them - they’re exempt, because of that wŸt privilege that goes all the way down to their bones.
I had a stunned sparrow fall on my head this morning. He let me carry him to a ledge he could fly away from. I still feel like I’m stuck in superposition waiting for something to happen. That would have been a sign or a life event in the before times when I could feel beyond the crushing empathy, mind numbing anxiety & inexorable rage. Now it’s all wrapped up in a bone deep exhaustion. You’ve explained pretty well, this feeling & while if I’m being honest it creeps me out a little, it also made me feel a bit less alone, especially seeing others feeling similarly. There is also, of course the abiding worry that the flickering lights are a train coming in this direction.
I feel the same. I'm sick of thinking about this shitshow. Tired of waiting for something good to change things.
Every morning I wake up and ask the same question.
The answer is always the same, "no, not yet."
I recently saw - sorry can’t attribute -
If he dies when you’re asleep, should I wake you up? If he dies when I’m dead you should wake me up. 🍾🍾🍾
The ole, hurry up and wait. Ugh... I am refusing to listening to anything about the orange goon until the big beautiful news happens.
The smallest part of war is the actual battle. The more important parts are planning, training, logistics, strategy.
In the winter, when everything looks dead, there are bulbs and roots and seeds underground, feeding and growing.
Now is the time to build. No single piece does it but everything plays a part. Voting, social media influence, contacting elected officials, running for office, protests, boycotts, donations, community work, mutual aid, investigations and prosecutions, art and music and writing.
Find your lanes. Ignore the doomscrolling that is designed to dissipate the rage into impotence. Use the rage to fuel the work. And be loud and proud about it.
No one around me will acknowledge this - they’re all busy pretending it won’t affect them - they’re exempt, because of that wŸt privilege that goes all the way down to their bones.
And the band played on…
I had a stunned sparrow fall on my head this morning. He let me carry him to a ledge he could fly away from. I still feel like I’m stuck in superposition waiting for something to happen. That would have been a sign or a life event in the before times when I could feel beyond the crushing empathy, mind numbing anxiety & inexorable rage. Now it’s all wrapped up in a bone deep exhaustion. You’ve explained pretty well, this feeling & while if I’m being honest it creeps me out a little, it also made me feel a bit less alone, especially seeing others feeling similarly. There is also, of course the abiding worry that the flickering lights are a train coming in this direction.
It feels like this:
https://youtu.be/WW52pNNOPCk?si=FMImRWn3HyTRcCpG
Pretty much.
Oof, yes.