For the past few months I’ve been awash in anger, sadness, bewilderment, and been disheartened. Anger rises to the top obscuring the others, and then the ability to find and see beauty, hope and joy. That’s not a good thing. This stems from watching (from my perspective) things we as a society have built and hold dear dismantled—things that when dismantled cause harm to individuals, and I say without hyperbole, hasten ecological collapse that none of us will escape.

I know, that’s dark. Don’t believe me. Fine. In too short of a time, we will see. I hope I’m wrong. But I’m not. We cannot dismantle science and health research and monitoring that we rely upon for ecological monitoring, oceanic monitoring, weather forecasting, health research, and so on and expect things to continue to progress and get better for humans. We will exhaust the research knowledge already done and then quickly lose ground to a changing world, both ecologically (by our own hands and actions) and geopolitically and economically.

And along the way a lot of people will be harmed and even die. The collective response of those in charge right now seems to be “Oh well, whatt’ya gonna do.” Or worse, it seems to be “Good riddance.” From this lack of humanity afforded to others is where my anger and sadness raise up. But mostly, it’s bewilderment. Especially since the motive simply seems to be nothing more than obscene greed by a very small segment of our population and a large segment of our population seems to be fine with that greed, maybe envious of that greed.

I just finished reading Lone Dog Road by Kent Nerburn. One passage in it provided insight this morning that I thought I might share with you. The rest of this writing is an adaptation of a monologue by the character of Lone Dog found on pages 429 – 430. I’m adapting instead of direct quoting as without reading the rest of the story you’d get lost in character names and backstory necessary to understand the context. As you read this, the “I” can be whomever or whatever you need it to be for you in this moment.

I have often spoken harshly, and I have great concern because you carry such bitterness in your heart. This comes from a place of love, because I have not wanted to see you raise up that bitterness and make it sacred. One should never make bitterness sacred. It will take you on the black road where anger seems like goodness. Anger can never be goodness. It is like poison water, good to drink in the moment, but it leads to death.

I understand that your road has been difficult at times and the future may feel uncertain. Out of this uncertainty, you may grasp for answers and take actions hastily, becoming disillusioned by what we’ve accomplished in the past and lose sight of it. You seek definitive answers, but I am old. I am be like the stars, offering guidance but I am too distant to be felt.

But the old, too, can learn. I now see that your anger might also be a gift. When softened with love, anger can become strength when placed in the hands of someone with a courageous heart. Someone with such love and courage might soften it to strength. Seeking out those that have hearts filled with courage and love can bear fruit.

Many among us, those with marginalized and “other” voices may have a knowledge that is not of this world. They will live their lives needing a protector so that they can share this knowledge with our people. Those voices must be preserved and heard. The strength of a society is to be that protector so all voices can be raised up and add to our collective good and progress.

(It’s me, Tim, again). These are the leaders we need—those that have the courage to stand up to bitterness, spite, and anger, and soften those powerful emotions and motives and lead with love and humanity.  Whom shall we send?