In September 2019 I began a blog with the words I feel on purpose today.

I wrote about a crow sitting on my Seattle balcony with her distinct white wing feather. The magical sunrise and the hot cup of tea. There was an essay in the making and the hours ahead wide open and mine to be spent. That year I had made it past big pain and rehab and shaken off the first years of intense scrutiny for signs of more cancer. I had woken up and counted blessings and felt optimistic. I was self-focused and rightfully so.

Eight years later there have been fresh challenges, moves, losses, gains. And politics beyond anything conceivable.

The world weighs a lot right now. Jonathan Safran Foer, in his novel Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close uses the recurring metaphor heavy boots to express the sadness and grief the narrator, nine-year-old Oskar, feels about losing his father on September 11. How heavy are yours?

We have the tools to reduce the violence and stress and I often forget to deploy tactics and save myself from sinking: one, turn off the media, select which section of the paper you do or do not want to read (or scroll through) — trust me, the insanity still seeps in but so much less — two, spend the day, or some spare minutes, to find the beauty no matter how small. And we are a sum of our parts; touch in with people that care about you, call someone who is as shocked as you are, too, proclaim loudly WTF! and trade tactics for coping.

Here is my daily purpose as 2026 heads into deep winter: first I pull the boots off. If I can’t reach them (ha, hips) I shake them loose. Once they are off I kick their sorry butts under the bed. Then I replace them with red dancing shoes. My dancing is wonky but it is the heart of the desire that matters.

Look for the moments in your day that sustain not drain: appreciate that first cup of coffee don’t let it get cold. Reread that first loving text. Look for the first bird to fly by your windowsill. Take a walk of any length. Educate yourself: read cozy and also dystopian novels. Have the audacity to not become numb and disassociate from the disruptive and fact-alternating tactics of our current administration but look what you can do. What sustaining action would help yourself and others?

Maybe it is a simple as talking to a neighbor, being a kind human is infectious. Refuse to drown wearing those heavy boots: sign the petitions, volunteer, contribute your time, donate blood, listen to your friends in need. That is how we will navigate the inconceivable.

I am another year older in a matter of days. I hope to surround myself this weekend with family and chaos and maybe hotdogs in a wet raging Nor’easter. But for now the sun is shining; for the time being the heavy boots are buried deep under the dust balls.

Seven years later I write with deep sincerity: I am here for you.

Last summer night, September 21, 2026