Paul Kingsnorth once said, "Put the peace of your heart before everything." I try to work at this, especially when I walk. If I've made the mistake of reading Facebook posts first thing in the morning, my mind darts like swallows.
I scroll past news of someone's dog hit by a car, commentary on the latest mass shooting, the newest controversial law in Illinois, politicians acting in their best interest, local weather updates, an author's new novel and a friend's son's wedding. I click on a reel and see a bridge fail, plunging a horse and rider into a rushing river.
Facebook washes over my mind until I can't think straight. I am outraged and frightened. But still I look.
I've seen enough of the wickedness underpinning our country to believe that disaster is billowing like a tornado-warned storm. An authoritarian noose feels as if it is wrapping around us. I fear it will take violence to cut it. Violence will be the response.
As I walk, I watch a reef of clouds to the northwest, tinged faintly mauve. I marvel at the color and turn east, where the sun is muted. Mr. Dog sniffs the woodchuck holes along the shoulder. Mrs. Dog walks along companionably.
When I turn back toward home, I watch the sun draw a line across fields miles away. A few pigeons lift off, their wings clacking. The light moves closer. The fields change color and brighten until the light surrounds me, the dogs and the fields nearby.
I'm Katie Andraski, and that's my perspective.
Copy Edited by Eryn Lent
