Held Breath

The election drags on; the nation holds its breath.

We are poised on the brink of a precipice. The actual contest is winding down and only a few possible outcomes remain, most of them favoring the challenger. But the incumbent has already deployed strategies to challenge any outcome other than his victory. The degree to which these stratagems will succeed remains to be seen but their employment corrodes the public trust. I can't escape the notion that no matter who sits in the White House in 2021 that there will be enough anger, fear, uncertainty, and doubt to make the next 4 years fractious, precarious, and dangerous.

So, a lot like the last four years. Only more so.

We are hanging suspended in the moment before right now. The intake of a sharp breath before whatever comes next and the feeling isn't a hopeful one from where I'm sitting. From where others less privileged sit, I am certain the view is much darker. I'll be fine. Probably.

Unless things really go off the rails and the proverbial shit hits the dreaded fan on an apocalyptic scale. There is at least the seed of the chaotic future George Miller warned us about. If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die historic on the fury road and all that. But Mad Max started in a world not unlike our own. The first movie was set in a society fraying at the seams, but still operating within a veneer of civilization. Laws and roads. Order is always a temporary state. The act of building a society is quixotic, the work of making it work a sissiphysian endeavor.

But then again: We all have to work in the garden.