Blank Day

Woke up to snow–winter’s last gasp, and will probably be gone by tomorrow–and normally that would be exciting. Normally I’d be thrilled, and watching the dogs cavort in a frosty wonderland would make me smile. I might even try some sort of tokking and tikking, or Insta reeling, in honour of the weather.

But not today. The news was horrid last night and just keeps on getting worse and worse today.

There’s no sense to be made of it except the fact that bullies suffering no pushback will continue to escalate. Large or small, a bully just…keeps going, until they’re met with actual consequences for their actions. Caving doesn’t work. Attempting to “understand” and console the bullies doesn’t work–and I say that as someone who firmly believes understanding brings compassion.

Compassion should never be mistaken for weakness. Yet bullies consistently do just that, and the cost mounts to a terrible level before humanity mounts an immune response to the infection. The idea that the sickness might be endemic torments me.

From the local to the national to the international level, we’ve put up with bullies, coddled and propitiated them, for far too long. They’re great at divide-and-conquer, of course–bullies use the method because it works. Yet their playbook is thin. Domestic abusers, bigots, and dictators all work off the same timeworn strategies, weaponizing the empathy and distraction of the rest of us. It’s an effective set of tactics because it strikes right at the heart of the cooperation that is humanity’s biggest feature and advantage. It works partly because we have a deep need to get along, and partly because sociopaths and malignant narcissists do not feel the shame the rest of us do. Rather, they are rewarded for their brutality, turned into highly paid CEOs and lauded as “strong rulers.” Then they terrorize the rest of us, even though we outnumber them by several orders of magnitude.

You’d think we would have learned by now. You’d think history would have taught us.

My heart hurts, and so does the rest of me. I can’t look away, and while I know I need to focus on telling stories so others can find some hope or relief, I just…I can’t. I don’t know what to do today.

The dogs are, of course, unconcerned. They are simply, wildly ecstatic at the fact of snow, even Boxnoggin, who downright loathes being cold. We’re all safe at the Chez, but for how much longer? And how much more of this can I watch before I break?

I don’t know.

I just don’t know.