cognitive dissonance in the dumbest timeline ever
It feels self-indulgent to write about or think about anything other than the genocide in Gaza unfolding before our eyes, or the masked men who are kidnapping people away from their communities and detaining them without due process, and then in some cases deporting them to torture prisons or countries they’ve never been to. I guess probably a lot of people I know and love (because I know and love a lot of compassionate, empathetic people) are feeling the same way. How are we supposed to go to the grocery store or mow the lawn or go to work or drink water, much less find joy in spending time with friends and family, when these horrors are being perpetrated with our tax dollars and only a handful of our politicians are doing anything about it? It feels uncomfortable to be comfortable or to experience feelings of contentment or happiness because holding ideals like fairness and justice and goals of emotional and mental well-being are in conflict with our current climate.
Maybe this is why so many people choose to look away? Protect their peace? But then those same people venerate historical figures who fought against injustice or tyrannical governments. I recently read The Book Thief, and one of the things that stood out to me about the bravery of Hans, Rosa, and Liesel in their hiding of Max, was the constant level of discomfort and anxiety that hung over the house and even their movements and actions outside of the house. They sacrificed their peace because it was the right thing to do, the just thing to do. But what if the Hubermanns lived in LA in 2025? Would they take their undocumented nanny or gardener or housekeeper into their home to prevent them from being deported? Or would they be too distracted watching their programs or their TikToks? Would they stay willfully ignorant in order to protect their peace?
I don’t really mean to cast broad aspersions; I’m just working through feelings of helplessness, rage, and despair. I long for a world where everyone turns off the tv, puts their phones away, and gets uncomfortable until something changes. But I don’t know—maybe even a monoculture wouldn’t be enough to mobilize a mass of people large enough to effect that change. I continue to be grateful for the people who refuse to look away; people who record or try to stop the kidnappings; for lawyers and judges standing up for due process and the rule of law; for the few politicians calling for the US to stop sending money and arms to Israel; and for the humanitarians who are putting themselves in harm’s way to try to provide relief in Gaza and other war torn places.
I recently traveled in Virgie across vast swaths of Texas to the Orilla Verde recreation area about an hour north of Santa Fe. I camped by the Rio Grande and hiked in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The weather was perfect, the views stunning. And then I spent time back in Santa Fe with one of my oldest friends, Will, and his wife Cameron. We mostly spent time catching up and laughing and swapping book recs, but on my last day in town, we went to the International Folk Art Market. The IFAM just turned 21 and to celebrate, they invited 142 artists from 57 countries to share their crafts and their commitment to sustainability, women’s empowerment, and cultural preservation. It was music, art, and food from all around the world. We saw Afghani rugs called kilims and Afghani pottery made by an artisan who fled the Taliban in 2021. Polish mobiles called pajaki or spiders of straw which are believed to have magical powers that scare away demons and bring in good luck. Large, colorful sculptures by Kenyan woodcarvers, made entirely of trash. A Ghanaian man named Kwame, who went from begging on the street to founding a shoe company that employs other craftsmen who may have ended up on the streets like him. The shoes are handcrafted with beautiful kente cloth embellishments. We sat on the cool grass, shared a dosa, and watched little kids run around and eat snow cones. To close out the market, six Drepung Loseling monks performed a Tibetan environmental cleansing and purification puja or prayer.
When I try to hold the horrors of this world and the beauty of this world in my one human heart, it feels too overwhelming. I guess Death from The Book Thief had it right when he said, “I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race…how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant…I am haunted by humans.”
