[Note: This essay was posted late least year, and will be part of a collection that will released later this year under the title My Rogue Mile.]
SOMEONE LOOKING at this photo without reading the title might think that the lighting suggests sunset. In either case, the light making this lovely elm glow is essentially the same.
We look to the east for one and the west for the other. One suggests new beginnings, a new chance, hope and optimism. The other suggests looming darkness, despair, shadows, mortality.
Sunrises, however, can't exist without sunsets. It goes the other way, of course. A sunset can't exist without a sunrise preceding it.
There is a wide swath of the American public that wants chaos and destruction to visit their neighbors and the institutions of government and business. These people aren't in any particular want: the average Trump voter makes $56,000 yearly, according to 538. They aren't upset, in other words, because they are doing worse than their neighbors. In fact, they are doing better, in most cases much better.
Sunset. The encroaching shadows of greed and spiritual decay that accompany it. Half of
or close to it, desire those shadows.
Moreover, they desire to make others suffer, those less fortunate than them, or
with differently colored skin, or with a different sexual orientation than
Suburbanism was born in the shadows. Mass conformism, nihilism, consumerism, solipsism, cookie-cutterism, the elevation of the cog, the violent rejection of "weirdness" and originality and acceptance ... It is clear that these were the folks Trump connected with on his poisonous campaign. It is they who ultimately elected him.
But the night need not be all; and it certainly won't last forever. There are millions of stars in the sky. There is the moon. There is light. Nightlight.
Rebellion: the nightlight. Refusing to accept this Malignant Orange Narcissist as the president, refusing to tone down one's language, refusing to back down to hate, refusing to walk away from others in need ...
... refusing to stop being weird, refusing to put away one's art, refusing to make it easy for the masses to consume, refusing to conform to suburbanist philosophy, refusing to live like suburbans, refusing to become one, which is to say, a consumer, refusing to stop wearing the safety pin, refusing to kneel.
I have no idea who will read these meditations. I don't know because I don't care who reads them or who doesn't. I'm not writing them to collect followers. I'm writing them because I'm a light, and because my light needs to shine. Starlight doesn't care who sees it. Starlight just is.
The thing about evil is that it ultimately destroys itself. Yes, many times the consequence is that many innocent, good people are destroyed first. There is nothing fair about that.
We elected Donald Trump. We did. We the People. The horror, the darkness that is coming isn't God's fault. It's ours. We own it—one hundred percent.
Still, I pray desperately for sunrise, to see it sooner than later. I pray that Hillary Clinton takes her rightful place as our next president. I pray that Trump and his minions are arrested for tampering with the election and endangering the security of the
United States, and are all jailed,
just as he wanted to do to his superior opponent.
I am heartened that many millions of people feel the same way. I am heartened that the night sky is blazing with light. I've never seen its like in my entire life.
The world is evolving. Trump is the suburbans' last shot at maintaining control over it. But the world is turning too, and sunrise is coming, no matter how hard they struggle to keep it from doing so. We have some measure of control over how long the night must last. For the spiritual sun is eternal and doesn't obey physical laws. Indeed, it is nothing less than the fusion fire of goodness, change, progress, openness, inclusion, and love.
It, and we, the Rebels, the starlight, will prevail.