• Cynthia Dagnal-Myron

American Angst



I've been sitting back trying to allow all my emotions to settle down, sort themselves out--I bet you have, too.


We're still reeling from the Twitter tantrums and, at the end, the truly, truly terrifying feeling that our country, as we thought we knew it, was about to be taken over by real live Fascists.


God, how scared I was. Am still, sometimes. Even with Papa Joe at the wheel, cruising low and slow through all the panic and hyperbole...


We're learning, gradually, to sit back and trust that. I think that's why he stays out of sight so much. He's giving us a "time out" to get our own shyte together. While he just hunkers down and does The Work.


The polls say even some Trumpsters are starting to take notice. Grudgingly. They like feeling safe. They like checks, too, of course, but they like this guy who gets the job done.


But boy, that first press conference he did a few days ago showed me, once again, how damaged we still are from all that emotional abuse we took.


The press pounced all over the guy. He didn't take the bait, of course, so it made them look whiny and weird when he just smiled and answered even the silliest questions so calmly.


I felt for them. They came in with their dukes up, ready to rumble. We all do that now--it's hard for us to talk to each other or talk about anything without getting all combative.


We had to right for our lives. I get that. And the Republicans are still out there making threats. Changing laws to make sure they can carry 'em out. We're still in danger, to be sure.


But I quit looking at Twitter and Facebook for a while because everybody had a gripe right out of the gate. Everyone wants everything TODAY. It's like he was supposed to walk into the White House and flip some kind of switch that would just fix everything right then and there.


Reasonable people were throwing Walmart toddler tantrums. Journalists I actually respect. Politicians I actually trust. Needy from four years of neglect.


There's a mass shooting almost everyday, too. That's how bad. People who don't know what the hell to do with all this angst, I fear. Some caught up in the "Q" thing, some just spinning in the madness of the moment.


For four years, you could believe anything you wanted to believe. Or...refuse to believe anything you didn't want to believe. Up was down, down was up. You were told your own eyes and ears were lying to you. And after a while...maybe you started to wonder...


Yeah, we're messed up. I am, for sure. I used to watch the news obsessively, but now that I don't have to worry about what "HE" might do today, I don't know what to do with myself. I careen from grateful relief to anxious uncertainty all day long.


And I haven't even mentioned the daily COVID curve balls. The vaccines work, the vaccines don't work--we don't know how long the vaccines will work...


We're in freefall, sort of. Nothing to hold onto. Trying to build that parachute from bits and pieces of hope, intuition and inspiration on the way down.


Reinventing ourselves in the process--that's some scary stuff, too. I'm too old to be starting over from scratch.


But...it's kind of exhilarating, actually. Like yet another childhood--every stage in the game is a new one, but this one's a doozy. Unexpected. Uncomfortable...


This anguished America's going through some serious changes. And I'm not sure She knows what kind of America She wants to be yet.


I always turn to Joni Mitchell at times like these. Restless times when I'm not sure where I'm going--she wrote lots and lots of songs about that. And Hejira, which is dictionary defined as "a journey especially when undertaken to escape from a dangerous or undesirable situation," meanders, musically and lyrically, in just the right way for today's tome.


So here you go:





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