There is a tension in the air of North America and a watchfulness of the world on the eve of Trump’s inauguration. Once when I was in New Mexico, the air felt stretched thin. It was hot and impressively still as I stood in the laundromat. The sound of crickets, dogs, people moving through the streets just stopped. The pressure had built to the point of affliction.

getting caught in the whirl wind

And as I watch social media tonight there is a similar sense of prescient not knowing. People are not knowing how this happened. People are not knowing if the new president is the result of fate, corruption spiraling out of control (because corruption has a decent structure), or if it somehow his or her own fault (I should have know/voted/chosen differently).

The vacuum is oppressive. Obama is leaving and there is only emotion to replace him. To relieve the yawning opening sense of loss, people are choosing a particular focus.

Some are huddled fearfully under the stairs trying not to breathe noisily. Some are armed with weapons of mass distraction. Others are deciding to march. Demonstrators are planning to witness for human rights; to witness for their new leader; to act as a human barricade between three other factions (see meat wall).

William Butler Yeats lived in a time that was also “an opening” or shift in global energy. And it is his words that come to mind from the poem The Second Coming:

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Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

The only thing that I know is that the weather systems will change. There are laws of shifting air, exchanges of temperature, moisture, pressure that are at work.

And it is only increasing the velocity of emotion if I stand anticipating that either the storm will come, a violence of rain or unexpected winds. I clean my house. I work out. I leave the house with the intention of enjoying those I meet.

It is a time to release attachment to a story. It is not the time to cling to the necessity to be correct.

I will do what I can for social justice, for human rights and the rest I will leave to the fates.

I remember standing in the laundromat and allowing the sweat to suddenly appear and roll down my body. And then the rain drove the dust high into the air. The downpour cleaned everything in its way. That is my hope for after this storm.