A week to walk, feel, and prepare

Let this radicalize us—for a kinder world

Dear Moss People,

As a lot of you are probably experiencing right now, I’ve spent the last few days riding waves of anger and sadness—reckoning with the fact that voters in America just re-elected a sadistic, unscrupulous man who has vowed to use the power of the state to hurt women, racial minorities, LGBTQ+ people, and immigrant communities. I cannot say that I am surprised by this outcome. I will get into that in the near future, in some of my adjacent writing channels. But, I am taking this week off from writing a full-on Mind The Moss story, in order to recuperate and recharge for what’s around the bend.

I encourage all of you who are able to do the same thing this week; to give youself the space to feel all the feelings that are coursing through you right now. Because we will need to do a lot of work in the years ahead, to get through this. But I want to leave you with two things, before signing off, hugging people, and staying outdoors for awhile.

Last week, I went to London to learn about an inspiring project in the U.K. called Slow Ways. It’s a grassroots effort to create a map of beautiful walking routes connecting every town and city in the nation. (They’re already well beyond halfway there!) It was started by a geographer and author named Dan Raven-Ellison. On Monday, the two of us met up for a collegial adventure on one of the longer Slow Ways within London. At one point, we found ourselves talking about the election, the contradictions between how Americans warmly treat each other and how they were slated to vote, and what happens next. I found the effect of this walk deeply grounding. I am convinced that it allowed me to aborb the events of the following day in a way that didn’t leave me in a complete stupor. Don’t get me wrong. It was still a shitty day! But it was also just that.

If you can, I recommend going for a walk with someone whose company you enjoy. It could be in the middle of the city or the backcountry or an industrial yard. Let it be a means of staying attached to the world; of resisting the temptation to retreat inward.

On that note, I also want to share this related essay that I just penned for WBUR (the NPR station here in Boston.) I was still overseas when the election results flooded in and I started writing this in bed, just after sunrise, when Pennsylvania had been called for Trump. It was all that I could think of doing at the time, and it made me feel a little bit closer to home, at a moment when the definiton of “home” feels more uncertain.

In solidarity,
Miles