Word began to break on Thursday afternoon, with news that Hope Hicks, a close member of Trump’s inner circle, was positive for The ‘Rona. There have been other ‘near misses’ before—Herman (“Aww, shucky-ducky”) Cain comes to mind. But Hicks was close enough to know what everybody had for breakfast. So many among us began to speculate (with and without a licentious twist, depending on our personal inclinations).
And thus, when word came a little after ten Thursday night, Pacific time, I don’t think anyone was deeply surprised. For some (okay, many) of us, there was a certain schadenfreude at the prospect of this brutal bastard finally seeing some of it come home to roost. That night, the words from Orson Welles’ narrator in “The Magnificent Ambersons” kept running through my mind. “George Amberson Minafer had got his comeuppance. He got it three times filled, and running over.”
But I truly do want to “be the better man.” I want to practice love and kindness. I want to lead with an open heart. So I went to bed, knowing I was about to have my best night’s sleep in many months, holding the intention that I would rise to the moment on the morrow.
Well, I rose to the kittens instead. I took care of them, and got down to work pulling the pieces together for Jerilyn’s memorial celebration this Sunday. Every time I’d pause and raise me head up looking for updates, that delight would NOT be denied.
More of his henchmen testing positive? Hey, you people chose to hitch your wagons to this bull, now enjoy your ride. He’s running a fever? Well, he’s not going to get away with being asymptomatic so he can brag about “beating the ‘fake virus.’” They’re airlifting him to Walter Reed? Yes, I admit. I did watch ghoulishly to see if he’d make it to the chopper under his own power.
Now, all of this is kinda disturbing to me. What keeps crossing my mind is that Lennie James character from back when I still watched “The Walking Dead.” The poor bastard who had been so immersed in slaughter and mayhem, and the loss of all those he loved, that he had committed himself to adopting the aikido philosophy that “all life is precious.”
And I kept chiding myself. “If all life is precious, how can you continue to delight in his illness?” I truly was a little disappointed in myself.
Until I remembered a codicil I developed a long time ago that is supposed to ride alongside my commitment to doing my best to foster and nurture love among us all.
There is a point at which some people, by their actions and attitudes, elect to remove themselves from that circle of love and connection I strive to live in service to advancing. And after they declare themselves apart from it, I no longer owe them my kindness and service.
A sad spot in my heart, perhaps. Something akin to pity, for it must be a dark and lonely way to live. But they are beyond my reach. And they do often manage to hurt those who are within my circle of love and compassion. And my desire to love and harmonize does not obligate me to tolerate the intolerable.
So no, I won’t spend my time obsessing about every moment of his illness and treatment, actively wishing for his discomfort and ultimate demise. Because that costs me too much. Brings too much darkness into my heart.
But you know? I will not deny my truth. The fucker is the worst President in the checkered history of our Republic, and has done lasting damage to it. He is a selfish, self-aggrandizing, profiteering and petty man who is undeserving of my respect, loyalty, or compassion. May he get all he deserves.