Stirring Point

Snow coats the red and yellow tulips lining the fence around our yard. The petals are stiff and hold the weight, but their strength is fleeting and soon they’ll drop. They’re eager buds, always first to burst through the earth’s thawing crust. I envy their hunger and admire the way they fight for light. 

Spring weather in Colorado mimics the state of the world today. Erratic shifts and unpredictable behavior are daily occurrences. Every day is a slap of the unexpected, but at this point, we ought to know that chaos is coming. I lace up my running shoes and find my gloves. Fuck the chaos. Time to charge a headwind.

The overcast sky pins a dim light to the sidewalk, creating an icy surface my shoes can’t seem to bite. Birds and squirrels stay tucked away and all is quiet except for the noise in my head. It’s loud with the transgressions of others, but they fail to slow me with their mischief and indignance. I love these runs. The wet shoulders, the soaked feet, and the driving snow. This should be miserable by normal standards, but each step is a reprieve, so I speed up. This weather builds ire. I want to stay balanced, but anger fuels my every step.

My rage is aimed at weak men—the kind purporting strength by punching down at those that can’t protect themselves. Men of character: the ones governing their perceptions with serious measure and attempted objectivity? Yeah, they’re being steamrolled by heedless ideologues. We all suffer, even the halfwits amongst us that favor the chaos.

Rage is a poison; that much is clear. But some of our countrymen lust for it. It unites them in a common hatred that justifies the knots in their gut. An enemy gives them purpose; it provides a sense of meaning. Arrogance and ignorance, driven by unchecked egos, will be the cancer in their governance.

A cathartic exhale transitions the mile of rage to a mile of calm. Come down. Breathe. Don’t emulate reactionary ignorance. These are hallmarks of a lesser man. Deep inhales lead the way. Look around. Find beauty. Find peace. Clarity is king. The calm mile invokes patience and composure. These are pillars that last. They matter. Muscles and joints slide into a rhythm and ease to a sustained pace. Rage can’t keep a pace because it costs the body and mind too much. It chews up glucose like Pac-Man.

The snow still blows as I finish the run and approach the tulips in my yard. I’m physically drenched but my mind is dry—dry of the anger, dry of the fury. In stormy moments, we must learn to endure. Like tulips, we should reach for the light and not be afraid to burst through the surface before others do it first. We should lead the way with acceptance, not hatred. Anger may be fuel for some, but it burns quickly, then it fades away. Calm is a better choice. It has a greater shelf life and more endurance. And that’s all most people are trying to do: endure.