Pain aside, it was nice – I spent much of the past two weeks in a hammock, watching the leaves change and fall, or listening to them rustle as I napped. Autumn is a time of dramatic transition, and I got to witness its gradual splendor. I had a medical procedure that was minor enough to keep me from work only a couple weeks but major enough to require general anesthesia. I haven’t talked about it specifically before and I’m not going to start now; I’m pretty much healed at this point.

I had a fleece blanket I snuggled under – the sky was sapphire blue – despite being a city, I heard mostly nature noises. There’s a red maple tree in my back yard that looked different every day – the fire red leaves tinging the edge gradually spread to the whole tree, and then off the tree to the ground.

Some of the medication I took to heal interfered with my ability to focus so I read mostly cookbooks. I made a lot of bids on jewelry auctions on ShopGoodwill.com and lost them all. I started Arabic on DuoLingo and was astonished at how hard it is to learn the alphabet. I took some walks; some were in the yard with my kitten, Rex. My husband complained that I am giving Rex unreasonable expectations for what his life will be like. A friend brought me a pot of a Cajun stew called étouffée and it was delicious. I did not write much – stringing sentences felt as challenging as remembering Arabic letters. Being calm and relaxed was important for my body to heal. My doctor gave me the all clear on Friday and on Saturday a friend and I did Cranksgiving. Including the getting to and from, it was nearly 30 miles on the bike. I loved it. I think I’m healed.

I tried not to focus on the state of my country.

Everyone in my world has dreaded Election Day. We’re all voting, and many have done what they can to convince other people to vote too. It’s that there are dark clouds on the horizons, we can’t tell which way the wind will blow, and it won’t be a quick answer. The people in my world want these clouds blown out to sea. I do too.

Everyone in an intentional community needs to be mostly on the same page for it to keep its governance structure. There’s so many of us and we don’t all seem to agree. What will happen next? We do not know. It seems to me that perhaps half the country does not want to be free because they do not want to share their freedoms with others. Many Americans, it seems to me, have a greater love for power and status than for liberty. My fears include the tangible loss of rights and political violence.

I work in a government building; my mind can grind the What-If gears pretty fast. I remember exactly where I was when the January 6 insurrection happened. I remember who I was with, and how that felt, and that I got into an elevator with the former assistant housing coordinator feeling very numb. Wondering if all the work I was doing was going to be meaningful the next day.

But.

We can not know the future.

At best we can guess. This is a source of fear but also a source of hope. It could be better than we expect. It could be worse. We could cope with more graciousness than we anticipate. We could come out the other side of our hardship with a lovely world we could not fathom before. We simply do not know.

The things I know are that right in front of me: I know that my kids feel good to hug and my garden is warm and growing. My house, right now, stands tall enough. I’m part of multiple intentional communities full of lovely people that keeps me from getting too dark about the human condition. I know that I have done the things I could do. I know exactly where my sense of right and wrong are.

I am one of millions. It is normal to fear being controlled by that you cannot control. It’s important not to let the fear itself control you – no one makes good decisions when panicked. Fear really is the mind killer.

I am going to keep my focus around that which I can do. I am going to work to keep my nervous system calm. I will keep hope and the people I care about. I will make the things around me more lovely in the ways that I can. I will do what I can.

Moment by moment

Second by second

One step at a time.

Will you, too?