It's the silly season

The country just keeps getting sillier and more confusing. Last week it was the news that the four holdouts at Malheur weren't coming out—but then they did. This weekend it was the Republican debate, full of bloviating anger and histrionics. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. Then it was the surprise of learning that Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Sanders are tied in Nevada. Then it was Justice Scalia's death and the quick decision by Republicans to block any and all nominees by our duly elected (twice) president. As soon as I think I'm beginning to understand, something else lands with a thump.

It's times like this that I'm grateful for my daily walk and the path I follow through the trees. It's a way of staying grounded through all the nonsense, and through the real problems that touch us every day. We all need something to hold onto, and that walk and those trees are my anchor.

I have lived long enough to remember that life wasn't always like this. The pace was once slower, and problems presented themselves one or two at a time—they were manageable. Now the world is chaotic. We discovered gravity waves but the knowledge hasn't helped us keep our feet on the ground. We learned our solar system may have a new planet but too many of us remain blind to the catastrophe our own planet is headed for.

As I look out my window I can see my neighbor's flag flying in honor of President's Day. It's horizontal due to a brisk wind, and from where I sit it looks like it's trying to shake itself free. I know that feeling. But I can't run away, there's too much to do and there's only me to do it. Well, there's you of course. Maybe together we can fix things, halt the silliness, slow the avalanche of problems. Maybe if we stop being angry and start working together we can do it. 

Or maybe I'm just being silly.