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We can feel it, can’t we?
To pretend that this does not move through us would be dishonest. But the deeper question, the one we are here to live, is this:
The tightening across our chests when another headline breaks. The heat that rises up our spines when the Epstein files surface again, initiating the familiar choreography of evasion, protection, and institutional amnesia. Our collective nervous system jolts between outrage and exhaustion. There is a quiet, simmering recognition that something is not only broken, but structurally designed to protect itself. There is righteous and true anger in the field right now, fueling our clarity of sight. We know the ravages of abuse when we see it. We know what corruption tastes like; we can feel it in the marrow of our bones. It is a revolting insult to watch those who appear like cartel heads posturing in the White House, insulated from accountability as we ordinary people carry the cost.
How do we continue to walk as love in a world that feels this unjust?
And I do not mean the diluted, bypassing version of love that rushes to forgiveness before truth has even been spoken. I do not mean collapsing into niceness. I do not mean spiritualizing harm. I mean: how do we remain human when the structures around us seem to have wholly forgotten what humanity is? I know the temptation is real: to harden, to become sharp, to let hatred feel like power, to let retribution feel like justice, and to let the heart calcify in the name of being “right.”
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