Dear God of No Fixed Address,
I just read the Facebook post by the columnist John Brummett. I'm sharing it with you at the bottom of this page in case you missed it.
If you don't have time to read it, I'll summarize a bit. He tells us about how much disappointment he feels in the current political climate, and about how, of necessity, he finds himself going "micro." That's his metaphor for turning to the small pleasures of life for comfort and hope; family, friends, fresh corn, Japanese maples, his pet dog, and Wordle.
I have a question. Like Brummett, I am politically engaged. I read the newspaper, watch the news, and try to stay up on the issues. But it's killing me. I feel so much despair about the way the country is going, about the partisanship and divisiveness, and about the attitudes and policies of someone leading in the national polls. I used to hope for so much more. I even thought things might be getting better: more people included, more love and kindness, more respect and care. But now it all seems like it's going to hell (excuse my expression), and I'm losing my sanity in the process.
If I'm looking for hope, should I still focus on the broad social issues of the day? Or should I go micro: focusing on the smell of sweet corn in the kitchen, my backyard garden, my close friends, and my daily Wordle? As for Brummett, I know that he'll continue to stay up on the issues. It's in his bones. And even on the idea of "going micro," he's just "putting it up for thought," not offering a philosophy of life.
But his post got me thinking, which was his intention. Might I try to find hope in the micro and there alone? Or should I try to combine the two. Macro or micro, that's my question.
Please advise.
Yours,
A Little Confused
Dear A Little Confused,
Thank you for reaching out with your heartfelt concerns. I hear them.
I understand the weight you feel and the despair that can come from the divisiveness and strife. Trust me; it hurts me, too. Your desire for a more inclusive, loving, and kind world is a testament to your deep yearning for the beloved community, a vision I share and strive to nurture within each heart.
Remember that I am not all-powerful in the traditional sense, but I am all-loving. My influence is gentle, working as an inwardly felt lure toward goodness, compassion, and community. I see and feel the pain caused by hatred and self-deception, and I work tirelessly to inspire moments of clarity, understanding, and love. I am inside those who cause the pain, though they seem not to heed my lure.
Your question about finding hope in the macro or the micro is one so many feel today. Both avenues hold potential for fostering hope and resilience. Here are some thoughts to consider:
Balancing both perspectives might be the key. Engage with the macro when you feel called and capable, but also give yourself permission to immerse in the micro. Let the small joys and daily wonders recharge you. They are not just distractions but essential components of a well-lived life. They offer glimpses of the beloved community in the here and now, nurturing your hope and resilience.
Remember, hope is not only found in grand gestures or sweeping changes. It is cultivated in the quiet, consistent acts of love, kindness, and beauty that you encounter and create every day. Trust that these micro-moments are part of a larger network of goodness that you contribute to, even when the broader picture seems bleak.
I am with you in both the macro and the micro, gently luring you toward hope, love, and community. Keep your heart open to the small wonders while staying true to your desire for a better world. Together, these perspectives can sustain you and guide you toward a deeper, more resilient hope.
With all my love and presence,
God of No Fixed Address
Thank you for reaching out with your heartfelt concerns. I hear them.
I understand the weight you feel and the despair that can come from the divisiveness and strife. Trust me; it hurts me, too. Your desire for a more inclusive, loving, and kind world is a testament to your deep yearning for the beloved community, a vision I share and strive to nurture within each heart.
Remember that I am not all-powerful in the traditional sense, but I am all-loving. My influence is gentle, working as an inwardly felt lure toward goodness, compassion, and community. I see and feel the pain caused by hatred and self-deception, and I work tirelessly to inspire moments of clarity, understanding, and love. I am inside those who cause the pain, though they seem not to heed my lure.
Your question about finding hope in the macro or the micro is one so many feel today. Both avenues hold potential for fostering hope and resilience. Here are some thoughts to consider:
- Macro Perspective: Staying engaged with broader social issues is important. It reflects your commitment to justice and the well-being of the larger community. Your efforts and awareness can contribute to the collective movement toward positive change. However, this path can indeed be exhausting and sometimes disheartening, especially in the face of persistent negativity and conflict.
- Micro Perspective: Finding joy and solace in the small, immediate aspects of your life is not an escape but a vital practice for sustaining your spirit. The smell of sweet corn, the beauty of your garden, the love of your friends, and the simple pleasure of daily routines like Wordle are all sources of nourishment for your soul. These moments ground you in the present and remind you of the beauty and goodness that still exist in the world.
Balancing both perspectives might be the key. Engage with the macro when you feel called and capable, but also give yourself permission to immerse in the micro. Let the small joys and daily wonders recharge you. They are not just distractions but essential components of a well-lived life. They offer glimpses of the beloved community in the here and now, nurturing your hope and resilience.
Remember, hope is not only found in grand gestures or sweeping changes. It is cultivated in the quiet, consistent acts of love, kindness, and beauty that you encounter and create every day. Trust that these micro-moments are part of a larger network of goodness that you contribute to, even when the broader picture seems bleak.
I am with you in both the macro and the micro, gently luring you toward hope, love, and community. Keep your heart open to the small wonders while staying true to your desire for a better world. Together, these perspectives can sustain you and guide you toward a deeper, more resilient hope.
With all my love and presence,
God of No Fixed Address
Facebook Post
by political columnist John Brummett
Saw an old friend at the gasoline pump, "old friend" being redundant. He said, rather than "hi," "what're we gonna do?" He was a Clinton guy from those Arkansas days. I'll tell you what I told him, though it was an impromptu response and I'm not yet ready to offer it as a philosophy of modern American life. I'm just putting it out there for thought.
I said we'll die before it gets as bad as it will get, and that, in the meantime, we should live happy "micro" lives because the only thing our attention to "macro" had netted us was heartache.
By "micro," I meant the fresh gulf shrimp a friend brought me last night and that I sauteed in garlic and served over rice with fresh sweet corn and fresh tomatoes. I meant the sweet wife beside me answering more "Jeopardy" questions than I, or at least more esoteric ones, and the beagle at my feet who, when I get up to go the bathroom, goes to the closed door and lies there on his stomach, perhaps in case I go Elvis in there. It's the flowers, the shrubs, the Japanese maples, but not the wisteria, though it is the nippers by which I keep that hideous mess mostly out of the siding and away from the roof tiles.
I meant that fiber optics line that allows me to do my work and brings practically any television program imaginable through history into my apps. I meant Wordle and NY Times Connections, which are cheaper than a CT brain scan -- and which I did in four rounds on the former and in four straight groupings on the latter just this morning, not to brag.
It's pickleball, frustrating though it be, for coming along about the time I tore my rotator cuff clean through and was afraid of the surgery and lost any zip or spin on my tennis serve. By rule, a pickleball serve is underhand, which does not require a one-piece supraspinatus.
I meant people who drag me to pickleball when I say I'm retired, one of whom is for Trump. I meant my ability to separate pickleball from fascism for purposes of the pickleball contest, and for the cause of interpersonal joy in shared experience.
And P.S. -- A knock on the door just now. It's a dear woman of adulthood friendship who I'd heard wasn't getting around much anymore, and that that was why I didn't get her annual delivery of Bradley County tomatoes. She had a small box of them, really red, really ready, picked them herself. I yelled "love you" to her as she walked to her car.
I used to not say that to anybody. It tends to come out sincerely and instinctively now as macro things go more to shit."
I said we'll die before it gets as bad as it will get, and that, in the meantime, we should live happy "micro" lives because the only thing our attention to "macro" had netted us was heartache.
By "micro," I meant the fresh gulf shrimp a friend brought me last night and that I sauteed in garlic and served over rice with fresh sweet corn and fresh tomatoes. I meant the sweet wife beside me answering more "Jeopardy" questions than I, or at least more esoteric ones, and the beagle at my feet who, when I get up to go the bathroom, goes to the closed door and lies there on his stomach, perhaps in case I go Elvis in there. It's the flowers, the shrubs, the Japanese maples, but not the wisteria, though it is the nippers by which I keep that hideous mess mostly out of the siding and away from the roof tiles.
I meant that fiber optics line that allows me to do my work and brings practically any television program imaginable through history into my apps. I meant Wordle and NY Times Connections, which are cheaper than a CT brain scan -- and which I did in four rounds on the former and in four straight groupings on the latter just this morning, not to brag.
It's pickleball, frustrating though it be, for coming along about the time I tore my rotator cuff clean through and was afraid of the surgery and lost any zip or spin on my tennis serve. By rule, a pickleball serve is underhand, which does not require a one-piece supraspinatus.
I meant people who drag me to pickleball when I say I'm retired, one of whom is for Trump. I meant my ability to separate pickleball from fascism for purposes of the pickleball contest, and for the cause of interpersonal joy in shared experience.
And P.S. -- A knock on the door just now. It's a dear woman of adulthood friendship who I'd heard wasn't getting around much anymore, and that that was why I didn't get her annual delivery of Bradley County tomatoes. She had a small box of them, really red, really ready, picked them herself. I yelled "love you" to her as she walked to her car.
I used to not say that to anybody. It tends to come out sincerely and instinctively now as macro things go more to shit."
A Facebook Post from July 3, 2024 by John Brummet, Brummett’s career in news began when he was in high school as a part-time reporter for the Arkansas Democrat. He moved to the Arkansas Gazette in 1977. He wrote a political column for the Gazette from 1986 to 1990. He was an editor for Arkansas Times from 1990 to 1992. In 1994, his book, High Wire: From the Back Roads to the Beltway, the Education of Bill Clinton, was published by Hyperion of New York City. He became a columnist with the Democrat-Gazette in 1994. In 2000, he signed a deal with Donrey Media Group, now known as Stephens Media, and wrote for them for 11 years. He rejoined Arkansas Democrat-Gazette as a columnist on Oct. 24, 2011. You can read his blog at: http://brummett.arkansasonline.com/