I think we are heading into some very dark times. We are already in the dark times and it takes courage to admit that we don’t know what the end will be like. We don’t even know if there will be an end. This, perhaps, is the scariest thought of all. What if there is no end? What if our children inherit this dark spiral of violence, lies and betrayal not as a distant memory of trauma, but as an ever unfolding strategy. What if undoing never ends?

I am not sure that I am still anxious about the climate crisis. If we were to die in a rising tide or a hurricane of previously unseen force, it would be a more just and merciful end than killing each other with human deceit. Would you not rather be a part of the ocean?

Which makes me think of the great flood. Imagine it wasn’t an act of a vengeful and angry god, but a gesture of ultimate mercy. Imagine that the flood came as a relief to those too weary to seek justice. Imagine, as it swept over the streets, people finally stopped running and welcomed it. Mothers hugged their children and men hid their tears of relief waiting for the flood to finally wipe everything clean.