The day of the election I posted a link to a blog post and claimed that I try not to talk politics on the internet.
The next day, all I could do was talk politics on the internet.
Then I claimed that I was done with just posting pictures of my family on this blog. Sick of talking about how going outside always makes me feel better.
But now look at me. That's exactly what I've come here to do.
The point being, I can't be trusted. The only thing I do consistently is break my own rules.
It's been a rough two weeks. You can think I'm being melodramatic. You can think that I'm being a poor sport. That I'm overreacting. Buying in to the sensationalist media machine. These things may all very well be true. Regardless, I've been pretty miserable.
Inside, I find myself desperate to do something. To be the change. To help. To heal. But most days, after I've made a handful of calls, I don't know what else to do. I circle around my house, sweeping the never ending piles of dirt and debris. I stuff the shoes back into the overflowing basket by the front door. I chip away at the Sisyphean pile of laundry.
But outside, things feel better. Hopeful. Promising.
Today, we all abandoned our shoes despite the cold. Embraced the almost science of grounding. Tom searched for turkey tail in the woods. I played with my camera and then laid on the sand.
I'm not sure that I can stop Steve Bannon from being appointed or keep the pipeline from being finished. But after some time in bright winter sun, I can be kinder again.