Cognitive Dissonance Update

as I plow through all the mishegas* of this moment

*Mishegas/Mishegoss

Words are not failing me, but concentration continues to. When you learn more about the brutal, illegal, and immoral actions and plans of the current regime, you just want to scream or crawl into a hole. But we cannot go numb. We need to find strategies for creating pressure to comply with the rules of law, but how do we do that when a crook who has no compunctions about committing crimes and bullying others is controlling the system. Just think about how many innocents have been disappeared into heinous prisons in the past two months and how many others have turned into ash.

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

—Martin Niemöller

This quote has been so familiar to me since my teen years. I’ve felt it playing on repeat in my unconscious mind forever. Today it comes to haunt me again in a post on The Contrarian Substack. I had to recalibrate my nervous system multiple times yesterday as catastrophic thinking wove stories in my psyche threatening to incapacitate me. Fortunately, my garden work took me into a more basic realm, aligning with the worms and the beneficial bacteria as I build up the raised beds for new seeds and starts.

Yesterday evening, I remembered beauty as a poultice for my pain. Even though I had a ticket to go hear Naomi Klein at UWT talk about her book, Doppelganger, I chose to visit with friends, hear their stories, and not dwell in the trauma of current events. Highly sensitive folks need to have good boundaries. I’ve heard Naomi speak many times, although not in person, and I have Doppelganger on my list of books to read when I have the capacity to do so.

This morning, I sit here in my peaceful home (not one with the expansive view you see above), with the sun peeking in the windows, and quiet binaural beats playing on my headphones, I wonder how long this gentle version of life will exist here. It seems fragile, as comforts of any kind have seemed precariously placed in this particular life, despite the generosity I’ve been bestowed. Everyday, I bless the clean & filtered running water, the functioning toilet, the new gas furnace, the full larder, the roof over our heads, and the comfortable bed where I sleep. I don’t take any of it for granted.

I read posts about how the authorities (and their henchmen) can break into our phones, take away our rights, give us no legal recourse, and disappear whomever they choose, and I pause to say words of gratitude for what seems like luxuries in contrast to those who live under the rain of bombs or 24-hour surveillance.

In the midst of all that causes immense emotional distress, I am grateful to have been selected to join this speculative writing program in Ireland in August with adrienne maree brown and her sister Autumn: https://www.bogandthunder.com/wnw Since I write about “amb’s” influence in my upcoming book, it makes sense to learn from her in person. Also there’s the poem (written when I was 17) that was published in an Irish literary journey unbeknownst to me - I see that unexpected bit of Irish recognition as a delightful trickster thread that is pulling me to Connemora. As part of this writing program, I will be exploring the voice I carry in relation to speculative fiction. This has long been a passion of mine; how to reimagine the world in the midst of dire circumstances. We will see what emerges.

This weekend I will be celebrating the 30th birthday of my son, Sam, with my son, on sacred land in Ojai, California. As April 19th is Earth Day this year, as well as a day of protest, we will do ceremony with the soil made from his dad’s body, on land where I first did a “despair and empowerment” retreat with Joanna Macy, then an activist artists retreat with Thich Nhat Hanh, sweat lodge ceremony (Bob joined me for that ritual), and later still a vision fast with Stephen Foster and Meredith Little from the School of Lost Borders. At the end of that fast, Stephen shared that there was a spirit waiting to come into our lives, and that we had healed enough with our own mothers to become parents. At the time, I had a list of reasons why this possibility was ridiculous, so I did not take Stephen’s pronouncements seriously.

I won’t share the rest of the story that led to Sam’s arrival in our lives, but I will share that birthdays have not been easy for him since his late teens. At some point, I will write about his journey with mental health (he has given me permission to do so, once he has read whatever I end up writing). This birthday is coming up just before the second anniversary of his dad’s passing. Both of us have been working with our grief in different ways, and it will be good to hike the land, sit with the generative energies that created Sam’s presence in the world, while eating Bob’s favorite flavors of ice cream as we do our walkabout.

After Bob left his physical body on April 28th, 2023, we covered him with the petals of our Magnolia tree. This photo taken on April 7th, 2025 is evidence that spring came two weeks early this year.

In these uncertain times, we must find the routines and ceremonies that will keep us grounded, and then find the activism that aligns with what we are carrying at the moment.