I am trying to give up anger for Lent. Outrage certainly has its use, but for months–day in, day out–this stuff is whittling me to a nub.
If I could smoke pot for forty days, I would. Surely this would help.
I vomited on November 9th. Not because I was disgusted – rather, I was terrified – or maybe terrorized. For those who say this is melodramatic, do you know me as such a person? My mind had no sway over my body’s reaction.
This is about a tectonic shift. It’ about a legitimate concern for our democracy and the progress we’ve crawled toward, fought for, never given up on.
I can’t help but wonder how many will slip into addiction as a result of this political climate. How many will succumb to depression. To hunger and domestic violence. How many will refuse to consider talking to someone based on their own assumptions or simply not reach out for help. And how many will bury their bodies into a pit that only the god of their understanding can lift them out of?
If any of you have discovered a way to remain engaged and active without anger coursing through your veins, please share your wisdom. If cynicism were bread, no one would go hungry, so I ask for replies rooted in a spirit of healing and hope. Surely the answer lies somewhere between mindfulness and not averting one’s gaze, but navigating this territory is rougher than any mountain range I’ve trekked through.
The Gospel tells us not to announce our Lenten discipline to the world–to do it in secret, and God will reward us in secret. The thing is, I need your help, y’all. This may require a group effort.