On April 7, 2026 Donald Trump said “A whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again.” Importantly, threatening genocide is a crime. Even if it were not a crime, it is unethical, terrifying, and sadistic. Trump, more and more, makes evil commonplace. And, in this case, hollow and false. Though shocking, it is no surprise that Trump also said he is “not at all concerned about committing war crimes.” (April 6, 2026). In the face of shocking and relentless moral chaos and depravity, how (and why) do we maintain equilibrium, not to mention joy?
We resist.
Resistance is an obligation. Resistance is both political work and a capacity for joy; it is not optional.
I don’t say resistance is an obligation lightly: the people so far most-affected by the evil inundating us now are the overworked, the poor, and the disenfranchised. For them to resist may invite grave danger. Already, people are hiding in their homes (as in World War II Germany), afraid to get groceries or take their kids to school for fear of being detained by ICE. We live in an increasingly dangerous, undemocratic, and frankly weird country. Even I – a white, middle aged, more-or-less economically secure woman – question whether making public statements like these could cause me harm. Nevertheless, I persist.
When times are good, the work of social justice and basic human rights is never done – much like the chores of our domestic lives. And that is what I mean by obligation. We are obligated to take care of ourselves and those we love. These particularly menacing times demand unrelenting opposition and increased expenditure of personal resources including time, money, and labor. At best, those who have extra resources should give more and remember that love doesn’t keep score.
Recovering from this brutal time will not be short work. It took 13 years to displace Hitler. The Chavistas have remained in power for 27 years. The Palestinians began their struggle in 1948, 78 long years ago. And we know that it is people like us, ordinary citizens, who defend our communities. Remembering all of this indicates an inevitable long game and, perhaps counterintuitively, signals a call to celebrate and uplift life.
We can do the hard work while remembering who and what we are and the beauty and integrity of our entire magnificent world: a global assemblage that includes up to 30 million unique organisms, more than 400,000 plant species, countless ancestors, over 8 billion people, 7,000 languages, with human-built and natural wonders. Some of my favorites: the Golden Gate Bridge; Yosemite; Oakland’s Cathedral of Light; Guy and Monique’s back garden; the the ever shifting aqua waters of Hawaii, Jamaica and the South of France; the cenotes of Mexico; crumbling grand old homes everywhere; and all of the good books ever written.
Remember the people you love – in my case my partner, my children, my family, my friends, and my pets – and the people you will never meet who likewise have partners, children, family, friends, and pets. Resist because you like to smell the earth after a good rain and delight in the feel of late afternoon sunshine as you take a moment to stretch your body after a day at work. Resist because you love dancing with friends on a Friday night. Resist because you remember who you are and what you find important.
Today I will not ask you to join the resistance; I have asked that elsewhere. I will not tell you all about how taking action is good for your mental health. I will not repeat, as I have already hinted above, how harrowing and precarious our situation is. If you are like me, when you pause, you can sense the disbelief, fear, and anxiety permeating. I don’t need to add anything to your existential terror.
The toxicity we are experiencing reminds me of a story one of my yoga teachers told a group of students about being on retreat with the Iyengars in India. The retreat took place in Pune, where the air is quite polluted. Students asked the teacher how he could do pranayama – yogic deep breathing – in a place where your nose runs black and he said “Just breathe the good molecules.” We all laughed and I invite you to laugh, too.
In this toxic environment in which our noses are running black, remember who you are and breathe in the good. Today I ask you to reflect on what’s beautiful in your life. It could be as simple as affording your rent or having legs that comfortably carry you up stairs. Perhaps you have lovely art or a great view. Maybe your family brings you joy or you have good friends and interesting pursuits. It’s possible that sometimes you sit still and enjoy silence or the sound of rain.
My open invitation is to luxuriate in the pleasure and promise of all that brings you gratitude and well-being as you do the necessary and obligatory work of stewarding this world and all you cherish. Having remembered who you are and why we do the work we do, let it all go. Experience your life in all its sensuous earthiness and airy exaltation. Experiencing joy during dark times is resistance.
Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!
