Tag Archives: politics

Survive the Darkness

Hidden in the Ozark mountains of Arkansas, an impossible distance from any interstate, a little town with curving streets and Victorian houses sits —nestled in the hills like a treasure on a ley line. Since before the white settlers, the magic and grace of this valley moved native tribes to declare it a war-free zone. After whites arrived the town became a haven for entrepeneurs and artists. Sick people swarmed from around the country to cure their Scrofulla and other 19th century ailments in the cold springs. I live in this town in the year 2025, and we continue to be a place of peace, a haven for artists and LGBTQ —and a nexus of resistance in a deep red state.

Our group of activists meet weekly at a local restaurant. We plan rallies and actions, share news on various fronts in the opposition, and listen to speakers talk about go-bags, online safety at protests, and mental health. On the last hot day of summer we took a break to conduct a healing ritual for ourselves. First we wrote what makes us sad and angry on paper. Then we each threw our papers on a bon fire. As the fire transformed our despair we shouted and cried as we shared. From kidnappings by masked federal police to the tearing down of women’s rights, to crack downs on free speech —we let it rip. One transman said, “I’m disgusted! This is not America!” When everyone was done, we shared again, this time personal successes, good news from the opposition. And we blew bubbles into the warm night air, filling the void of fury and sadness with joy, songs, laughter, and hope.

People ask me: ‘How are you doing with all this?’ By ‘all this’ they mean the cruelty and abject corruption of Christian nationalist autocracy, and the abusive sociopath in the White House. I have a three-pronged coping strategy. First, I tether myself to truth whenever possible. Second, I participate in creative non-violent resisitance. Finally, I engage in daily rituals that slow my heart, ground me, and allow me to conjure the will to beat back this madness. We will live through this, but the hard work is to stay sane, safe, and healthy —and resist.

As far as truth, you have to wade through the muck to find the actual sink holes. Disinformation and propaganda get catapulted at us every day. Most of it? — hot air, aimed at discouraging us. The regime means to break our spirits with waves of horror and drama. But sometimes the news is malevolent and worthy of attention. For instance, ‘trans extremist ideology’ does not exist. It’s a lie. Since the beginning of time, two-spirit people show up in all races and levels of society. From 2013-2023 there were 5,748 mass shootings in the US. Five of those shooters were trans. Most shooters, in fact, were young straight white men. A study showing that far-right violence is much more prevalent than far-left violence quietly disappeared from a government website. Instead of citing evidence to find solutions to gun violence, the Heritage Foundation (writers of the Christian nationalist manifesto Project 2025) use violence to scapegoat trans people and quell dissent on the left. They even have an acronym: TIVE, which means ‘trans ideology-inspired violent extremism.’ If you are a trans activist, or advocate for trans people —you are now an extremist. Anyone who believes in equality and rights for all people, including trans, and willing to say it outloud —is an extremist. That includes most of us on the left. Indeed, the left is an enemy under the ‘antifa’ (anti-fascist) label. Whomever the trump government decides is ‘antifa’ –is now considered a violent domestic extremist. After every incident of mass shooting or political murder the regime’s propagandists rush out to shower the airwaves, screaming about trans left radical violence —even before we know the motive or background of the shooter. They plant the seed in the gullible trump base. The cult members get worked up. The next thing you know trans people receive death threats. Maga leaders punch down, as bullies do, they lie about violence, and pit ignorant Americans against vulnerable Americans. It’s easier to control people that way. Underneath all the blame and finger pointing the maga coop against democracy marches on, undetected for about 35% of US citizens. Or maybe that 35% just doesn’t care. In my red state, every trans and queer person I know has a go-bag packed and ready. The prospect of fleeing to a blue state or out of the country is real. The lefties are not far behind.

Because of the national tragedy of LGBTQ bullying, our group decided to perform a direct action in the thick of the night. In solidarity with the Pulse Nightclub chalking in Orlando, groups across the country are painting rainbow colors in crosswalks and on sidewalks. The Pulse Nightclub was an LGBTQ club, and the scene of a mass shooting. Forty nine people were killed. A rainbow colored crosswalk just outside the club memorialized the victims. Governor DeSantis ordered black and grey paint to cover the rainbow. He even installed cops overnight to guard so nobody would repaint with bright colors. Thus began the chalking, first on the sidewalks around Pulse, then across the country. Here in our town we joined the movement. On the morning after, the passers-by noticed stenciled footprints in red, purple, and orange in the street downtown, leading from one radiant chalk-painted crosswalk to another. Each bore the name of an individual victim or a public landmark of LGBTQ hate crimes: Nex Benedict, Harvey Milk, Q Club, Stonewall, Matthew Shepard, and Pulse.

Finally, to show up genuinely in this moment, in our descent into theocratic despotism, requires daily connection with the beauty of life. It’s the bridge to sanity and survival. Every morning I visit with a crow family on my four mile walk. They fly so close to me I can hear the air in their feathers. It’s not just about my yummy peanuts, either. They are friends, with names and quirks and individual caws. In the before-times this lovely dawn ritual was a lifestyle choice. Now I depend on it —the welcome kinship with crows, the deep breaths, the hope of a new day breaking on the horizon. I’m fighting for more than human friends. I’m fighting for my country and the planet. We just celebrated Autumnal Equinox, and now face the darkest time of the year. But I will not give in to the existential darkness of Christian nationalism. I hope you won’t, either.

Keep up the fight for democracy, and let me know what you’re doing,

Laurel Owen, October 2025

Notes: I intentionally did not capitalize trump’s name. I can’t summon the respect.

Also, I do not use AI in my writing.

Tornadoes and Political Menace

Here in Kentucky spring has unearthed a 17-year cicada brood. The bugs make an otherworldly droning buzz around my aunt and uncle’s house deep in the woods. After a night of tornadoes, it sounds like a siren coming from the trees, a signal of doom after the trauma over night.

I’m wrong about the cicadas, of course. They’re probably just trying to mate. Their bizarre hum becomes the background music to the malevolence of the current regime in the US. The normal visceral reaction to violent storms is enhanced by the current politics of cruelty and ignorance. Suddenly I find myself hearing impending catastrophe in the songs of cicadas. I’m glad I caught myself, but I come by it honestly.

Sadistic policies, like disappearing brown people off the street and whisking them off without due process to detention centers or third world gulags –are aimed at quelling dissent through fear. Brown people are the test cases. Next it could be anyone who opposes trump. Threats to withhold necessary government protections, like severe weather alerts and emergency management keep us in a state of insecurity. Will federal relief come to Kentucky? Or is the Democratic governor going to be turned down for disaster funds? Wickedness is the point. A populace on edge and unsure of tomorrow feeds the power of fascists. Malice becomes the stasis, and a known liar decides what’s true and false. It’s dizzying and demoralizing. We are more malleable when we question our own critical thinking, even our sanity. Here is the hard truth: a rolling nightmare is wreaking havoc across our country. Most of us agree that the executive branch and an entire political party has been captured by a freak with a low IQ and a black heart.

As I ponder all this, I realize a cool and bright spring day has graced us. We clean up felled trees and pack food in coolers, waiting for the electricity to be restored. The wind chimes and birdsongs almost drown out the ethereal echo of the cicadas. Each spring arrives like a new gift –no matter how many seasons you live to see. Life emphatically and joyfully regenerates, and the multiverse tilts towards goodness. The cycles of nature, the earth’s creatures –even rocks –have a beginning and an end. Committing fully to each day, to letting experiences, smells and sounds touch us –this helps keep us grounded. Weathering storms requires vigilance. We need a plan, a place to hide if necessary. We should identify vulnerable people and check on them. We survive disaster and the maga death cult by paying attention and taking steps to protect and defend ourselves. We will get through it. Denial, self doubt, and fear are the only true enemies, because they lead to inaction.

Life is as wild and unpredictable as a crow, as cyclical as cicada broods, and as lovely as spring. This rich complex earthly life is worth fighting for.

I will continue to write, to resist and oppose this bumbling moronic tyranny.

We all have 1st Amendment rights. Let’s use them. We are called upon right now to survive our collective night of storms. Attend rallies. Call representatives. Write, if that’s your thing. Talk to people. Stand up to maga bullies. We can defeat the mad king, his obsequious toadies, and his unleashed cruelty. The nightmare will be over when most of us say no. Loudly.

Meanwhile, enjoy the exuberant gift of every season under the sun. And remember that all things change and come to an end. Impermanence is our ally. If we stay engaged, and do our part –without fear –spring morning will come again to our democracy.

Laurel Owen, May 2025

This was a sign my aunt and uncle attached to their mailbox during the No Kings national protest. They’re in their 80’s and could not find a local event.

Spring Equinox, In the Balance

Brigid’s Ritual, Part 3

My partner and I sit on our bench in the woods. We inhale the early green smell of spring and relish the mysterious in-between moment –when day meets night at dusk-dark, and when day and night are equal. It’s the spring equinox. Before us the crossroads mark the start of two diverging paths, each ending at a ritual circle. We hug each other and take separate paths. Mine leads around a pine tree, and drops me at the north entrance of my Druid circle. A limestone, almost my height, marks the spot. I linger here at the portal, in a time outside of time, a place of balance. Just for a few minutes the harmony inherent in equal day and night washes over me. Chaos gets put off for now. In time, I ring a small bell, step into the circle, and approach the eastern stone.

The element of air presides in the east, representing clear thoughts, new beginnings, morning, and springtime. The ability to see through falsehood, to honor truth –this I aspire to. Sifting through the sheer volume of information today includes rejection of disinformation and hyperbole –and the talent to decipher. May rational thinking inform me.

Next I arrive at the south quarter. Here the power of fire, of summer, and midday rule. Bravery leaps to mind —standing up to bullies, resisting Christian nationalism. The commitment I make here is to love life fiercely enough to fight for it.

As I move to the west, the sun has almost set. The limestones in the four quarters appear luminous in the half-dark. The power of the west ebbs and flows with water. It symbolizes the undercurrents in life. Emotions under the surface go unseen and ignored at our peril. Let my feelings and intuition not be enemies, but reminders of delight, that instant pang when a song brings a memory to the fore. May the inner voice warn me of danger, and let me not be afraid –even if the lights go out– knowing darkness is temporary.

Finally I come to the north, the quarter of our cherished home in the multiverse –planet earth herself. I stand, grateful for this earthly sacred life. Climate change and wars of aggression across the globe threaten us all. May I walk mindfully and with purpose as a guardian of our treasure. May we all learn to hold dear our continents, oceans –and all life forms in the mix. Inspired by a sense of balance, as the equinox points to, may we build a kinder, more rational world together.

And now the door leading back into the world stands in front of me, the prospect of everyday life. Renewed and calm, aware of the challenge ahead, I step out. My partner and I meet at the bench, a creation from his metal shop. Regal, with its Celtic design work and tall back, it’s surprisingly comfortable. We talk until the dark envelopes us. Our herding rescue dog barks nervously, reminding us of schedules and routines. We walk back up to the house to put him at ease.

Earlier today my anxiety mirrored that of my dog. A video featured a white Christian nationalist named Nick Fuentes. He told his followers that when the nationalists take power, magic and ritual practitioners will be put to death. He said we’re worse than Jews and immigrants. Now, as I channel clear thinking, it’s easy to dismiss Fuentes as a maladjusted incel and fanatic. But my intuition warns me not to ignore such people. Front and center of the mass psychosis called Trumpism lurks a religious fervor devoid of rationality or true spiritual depth. The adherents think Trump is a Christ-like savior. Again, easy to dismiss. Trump has scores of felony indictments, is liable for sexual assault and fraud, and tells lies like most of us breathe. He’s a criminal, a confidence man. Unbelievably, the republican party is now full of cult members. Trump loyalists, swept up in this madness, currently dominate red state legislatures. In their bid to enforce minority rule, they attack voting rights and enact cruel laws against women and LGBTQ people. The connection between extremists and republicans is sealed. Indeed, Nick Fuentes dined with Trump on Thanksgiving in 2022. No, pagans won’t face execution. Not now. But if Trump is elected, the lights of democracy will go out. Freedom will diminish, and all manner of persecutions may well unfold.

I shake off the horror of religious nationalists and authoritarian charlatans –and smile. It’s card night with the neighbors. I have a bet with one of them. He says Trump will win. I say no. Americans will vote the power-hungry zealots and their poisonous leader back to obscurity. People like Nick Fuentes can shout all they want into the void, as is their right. Their opinions won’t threaten anyone –they won’t matter. My neighbor and I know our bet is a joke. We both want me to win. The loser has to buy two pizzas for a card game. I already told him I’ll take two cheese and tomato with fresh basil.

Laurel Owen, April, 2024