Politics | Recovery | Current Obsessions
What I’ve been reporting, what I’ve been feeling, and what I’m doing anyway.
Have you ever taken a nap so good it felt like the perfect heist?
Deep, long, a bit of subterfuge. Taking back what's yours. A fuck-you to authority.
I took that nap yesterday afternoon.
Waking up in that delicious, warm half-dream state, the world didn’t feel as overwhelming as before. As the languor pulled away, I felt clearer and capable.
I wasn’t as scared as I’ve been feeling—and, my friends, lately I’ve been scared. Not full-blown panic, mostly. More like a low-level buzz, like static electricity thickening between your fingertips and a doorknob.
The fear emerged from the two articles I wrote this week about the redistricting fight in Texas:
An interview with Beto O’Rourke on what’s at stake
I believe the Texas GOP’s power grab is the most important and terrifying story in the country today. Other things have more immediate impact, and there are more visceral atrocities on our screens—from the dismantling of the public health system to a military takeover in D.C., from our institutes of higher education knuckling under to the continued kidnapping of innocent people by masked vigilantes.
But this redistricting fight is about whether the atrocities can continue forever—well, I’m going to catch myself saying “forever” there; nothing is forever—but the redistricting fight is about how fast we slide into something worse and how long it takes to dig out of it. I no longer think we're in danger of becoming a fascist state. With apologies to William Gibson, the fascist state is already here—it's just not evenly distributed.
So I’m really scared. Maybe you are, too. I don’t have an answer for that. I don’t know what to do with that fear except feel it.
At my AA meeting Thursday morning, someone described fear as the “termites in the foundation of our lives.” Fear can tunnel through our best intentions, collapse us—a thousand little things bringing the whole house down.
The vivid metaphor fails, though, because no one will rid themselves of fear forever. Our emotional vocabulary is incomplete without fear.
But fear is the fire alarm, not the fire. Fear is a response to a perceived threat, not the danger itself. Fear isn’t even always commensurate to the size of the danger. A fire alarm can blare as loud and long for burnt toast as it does for a roaring blaze.
Living a sustainable life, for me, has been about learning not to panic as soon as the alarm goes off and instead, looking for what to do next.
Some people in recovery will tell you that faith is the opposite of fear. But today, I believe that action is.
The action doesn’t have to be big—it just has to be the one that gets you closer to the next thing.
I’ll be going to the rally at the Texas Capitol on Saturday to protest the redistricting. Details here, if you’re in Austin—and there are rallies happening nationwide as part of this coordinated push. Beto will be one of the speakers in Austin.
Not everyone can take that kind of action. Maybe the thing that gets you to the next thing doesn’t involve parking downtown and 100-degree sun.
Sometimes it’s a nap. A revolutionarily good one.
ICYMI:
My statehouse report (featuring one chaotic public hearing and one folding chair)
My interview with Beto (on the stakes, the lawsuits, and the long game)
Find a rally near you (Saturday, nationwide—including Austin, where Beto will speak)
Take the action you can.
Then take a nap if you need one.
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PS If this piece hit something for you, I’ve got a new session of The Third Story Workshop starting September 2. It’s a writing workshop for people figuring out how to say the hard thing, or just the real thing. Check it out here.