Among the other god-awful things Trump has brought to us—rather, to the entire world—is the prospect of even greater war. He poked and continued to poke a dog that, while not entirely sleeping, could have been contained to its own yard.
That is, Trump, too, is a dog—mangy, snarling, yapping, attacking, aged, paranoid, howling at the moon, thinking it still rules the neighborhood, thinking its bark has value when all it does is set off other dogs. A dog who believes nothing exists beyond its own block, and doesn’t even like the people who live next door.
But, . . . but, . . . but if he were really a dog, there would be a muzzle on him by now. Instead he is the President of the United States and sullies the White House and claims the Constitution is paper to wipe it up with. Oh, sorry for ending that sentence with a preposition.
Donald is an immense test for those of us who want love, beauty, art, music, poems, science, exploration, meditation, and spiritual passages as central to our lives. Do we protest? Do we ignore? Do we shelter ourselves? Do we take up advanced wine tasting? Do we turn off the news? Do we go on retreats? Do we post photos of family members and friends bonding? Do we bury our heads in the necks of our pets?
Do we try to purify or go into the trenches? Are both possible at once?
Some answers are simple. We must protest. And we must shelter ourselves. We must watch carefully how much inane racket we can endure in one day, and adjust accordingly.
We must find ways to protest that harm no one else. We must raise awareness of the ugly truths of bigotry and inequality. We must not indulge in fake news ourselves.
We must criticize horrors and quotes that are verifiable but not do wholesale debunking. Melania may surprise us yet, and Ivanka hasn’t been heard from lately. They have been tasked with walking the dog, and that is not easy.
We must ask ourselves the variant of “what would Jesus do?” that suits our personal beliefs and predilections. I ask “What would love do?”
I also ask “Why is it so difficulty for so many people—Trump and beyond—to understand that all humans are made of the same stuff. Pain and loss feel the same in all nations and races.
Should we be surprised that hundreds of football players are “taking the knee”? Of course not. Their identification with those suffering from police bias and other forms of racial bias is close. They feel it in their bones and through their relatives and friends.
But Trump does not and cannot feel the pain and loss of others, and cares so little about it that he cannot even fake it. A bop on his nose mystifies him. Humans confuse him. All he wants is to be petted and called “good boy.”
And so, the old dog barks, snarls, and attacks, boasting in proxy of his younger days when he saw himself as a Casanova who got away with it.
We are in trouble when what we want is a creative dynamic serenity. We want to explore the immense universe, the music of life, the awesome facts of time and space. We want to study life as a beautiful thing, not destroy and abuse it.
Creating harmony within the din of fear, lies, and chaos is extremely difficult, but hopefully it is possible, because it is necessary.
Do not let yourself be swamped. Take time to gather your senses, find your truths, and act upon them in ways that share and expand your visions without harming others.
Somewhere in here we can agree Trump is not only scary and bloody annoying, but a clear and present danger. Somewhere in here is a muzzle. Or fences, or barriers.
We must protect what is good and work to change what is ugly. We are neighbors, and he is a menace, a mongrel doing war-mongering.