My birthday was weeks ago, but last weekend, a small circle of friends threw me the most hilarious birthday party. It was called the Reneesance Ball—i.e. Renaissance, pronounced in the European way that also happens to sound like my name.
Dressing up was optional, and some friends absolutely understood the assignment. There were paper planes, my favorite cocktail, but in the spirit of the era, we renamed them parchment carriages. Commitment matters.
As for me, I dressed as Elizabeth I. She reigned for the same number of years as my new age.
Ta da! Gloriana
But truly, get a silly circle of friends. They’re the best.
I’d like to share a few paragraphs from Rebecca Solnit’s weekly newsletter, Meditations in an Emergency. This comes from her most recent post, “This Cold Winter, Love is a Superpower.”
In the wake of Alex Pretti’s killing, she writes:
Minneapolitans responded differently that evening, with candlelit memorials and songs. Veterans Administration intensive care nurse Alex Pretti’s name, true nature, and death at 37 will not be forgotten.
The powerful nationwide—and beyond—opposition to Trump and his authoritarian power grabs has come as a surprise to him and his gang. They believe devoutly in the power of violence and do not comprehend the power of nonviolence. They understand the power that the state has but do not understand the power that civil society has.
They understand their own motives—greed, a lust for power, an intolerance of difference—and are baffled or uncomprehending about generosity, about the desires for democracy and equality that are about wanting to share rather than hoard power, the tolerance and more than tolerance of difference. Tolerance is such a mediocre word; I recently saw Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi speak about her early days in the House—she entered Congress in 1987—when she would be told, “Oh, you tolerate gay people in San Francisco,” to which she says she would reply, “We don’t tolerate them; we take pride in them.”
On the other hand, “I think the single dumbest phrase in military history is ‘our diversity is our strength,’” said the dumbest and most unqualified Secretary of Defense, Pete Hegseth, last February. Some of us take pride in the diversity of our cities and country; some of us care about people who are supposed to be divided from us by category but can be united with us by care.
For many in the Trump regime it seems incomprehensible—or a scam of sorts—that those not categorically under attack by ICE are so committed to solidarity with their neighbors who are, and thereby to universal human rights, to standing up on principle, and, since ICE’s murder of Renee Good, will risk their lives to do so.
Dillon White is an attorney in Minneapolis and a social media content creator under the handle @Dadchats. In this video, he talks about a vulnerable and tender conversation he had with his 7 year old son. I share this for anyone who has moments of missing themselves — alongside or in addition to any of the challenges we are witnessing.
All emotions are worthy of being felt and processed.
Every person — (you!) — gets to be complex, whole, off-kilter, centered, and back and forth.
It’s all worth it. You’re all worth it.
But
And
No person — no leader, no neighbor, no partner, no employer, no crafter-of-things-as-they-currently-are — gets to steal your joy and your wisdom of things-as-they-should-be.
On Tuesday, Mark Carney, Prime Minister of Canada, delivered a prescient and powerhouse speech at the Davos World Economic Forum, which brought world leaders to an immediate standing ovation. I was deeply moved by what he shared. I also shuddered at its implications, knowing that despite all our national blustering, our weak-and-getting-weaker U.S. fortress may quickly become more isolated and economically squeezed out.
Still, I believe he speaks truth about where we are. And if we want to right the ship at home as best we can, we, too, can take our sign out of the window. We can start building a better world of cooperation.
Prime Minister Carney starts in French. His English remarks start at 1:17.
In an interview with the New York Times, Donald Trump spoke with reporters David Sanger and Katie Rogers for hours. At one point, they discussed Greenland. Here is part of that exchange.
“Why is ownership important here?” Sanger asked.
“Because that’s what I feel is psychologically needed for success,” Trump answered. “I think that ownership gives you a thing that you can’t do, whether you’re talking about a lease or a treaty. Ownership gives you things and elements that you can’t get from just signing a document, that you can have a base.”
Katie Rogers followed up: “Psychologically important to you or to the United States?”
“Psychologically important for me,” Trump replied. “Now, maybe another president would feel differently, but so far I’ve been right about everything.”
Psychologically important for me.
How bonkers is it that we are on the precipice of global conflict — if not a full-blown world war — and on the edge of serious economic instability — if not a massive trade war or the devaluation of the dollar — because an insecure man who believes himself all-powerful insists that owning Greenland is psychologically important to him?
This is precisely the moment that calls for a Collective No.
A no from Greenland. A no from Europe. A no from the U.S. Congress. A no from world leaders. A no from the American people.
How can we allow a delusion this inane to generate so much violence, threat, and instability in the world?
It is truly bonkers.
How did we get here? And where else is our Collective No needed?
Of course, there are many answers to the question that people have been asking repeatedly for years, and lots of people have been saying some version of a Collective No for more than a decade. But I’m also asking myself another question, too. Apart from the person currently holding this delusion, how did we invest so much power in a single office that any one individual could credibly put the world in this position?
This is good advice spoken by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. In its original context, there is wisdom about avoiding oaths we don’t truly intend to keep — promises that overreach what we will actually do.
This is also good wisdom for the days we are living now.
Let your yes be yes, and let your no be no. And perhaps we can add this: let your no-s affirm and empower your best yes-es.
There are times when we have to say no to things that would genuinely be valuable to do. Not because they don’t matter, but because saying yes to them would mean we no longer have the energy, commitment, or capacity to say yes to the things we can do uniquely.
In the era we’re living in, we can’t do it all.
We can stay informed. We can support people who are involved in areas where we are not able to be as active. We can send our money in those directions. We can offer encouragement. And when we are asked for help, we can respond meaningfully and with care and action.
But there will also be things we simply cannot engage as deeply in because we need to carve out necessary space for the work, the roles, and the commitments we are best positioned to hold. That positioning comes from our talents, our skills, and the communities to whom we are connected.
I am deeply grateful for people who are working in areas where I am not able to be as active. I can support them. Likewise, there are needs and communities to which I can be especially present. I need the support of others as I do that.
So let your yes be yes. Let your no be no. And let your no-s affirm and empower your best yes-es.
Adding a block to a tower of blocks. Public domain image.
One year ago, after the inauguration, we began to experience an onslaught of executive orders and threats — making sweeping changes, canceling grants, and negating existing rules. It was remarkably overwhelming. Steve Bannon later said the strategy was deliberate, naming it “flooding the zone.”
One year later, it feels like the zone is being flooded again, but this time on the world stage. It’s not one major crisis or a single impending set of threats. It’s Venezuela. It’s Minnesota. It’s Iran. It’s Greenland. The sheer volume makes it hard to know where to look or how to respond.
In the midst of this, I want to share something Eli McCann recently offered. As a gifted humorist and storyteller, he’s a TikToker with a large following. He shared something his Mom used to tell him growing up.
When so many waves of chaos, impending threats, and massive change hit at once, it is completely understandable to feel panicked or despairing. When those feelings show up, we can care for them within ourselves and alongside others. But ultimately, as Eli McCann shared, his Mom would tell him that staying in panic or despair isn’t productive.
Instead, she encouraged him to ask himself a question: What is something I can do today, in my own sphere of influence, that will make the world better? What is something I can actually do?
It’s a simple question. And I also think it’s remarkably helpful. It’s easy to look in all directions and either feel overwhelmed or believe we’re powerless. But we are not powerless.
What can each of us do, right now, in our own sphere of influence, to care well for what’s unfolding — and to help build collective change? Sometimes that question is where steadiness begins.
Smuggling Grace 