On despising the deed without hating the man, the seed that does not stay where you plant it, and the watch you must keep at the gate of your own heart
Since discovering this site (if that’s the correct term) on Substack a few weeks ago, I’ve tried to read every post that comes out daily, sometimes twice daily. I find the writing as compelling as anywhere; no other site presents the arguments and counter-arguments so well. And this post is no exception.
Like Karen, I have had the same strong feelings toward that man, but you wisely point out that we should despise the actions. I stumbled across an audiobook on a recent road trip called The Art of Living, by a Buddhist monk named Thich Nhat Hahn. In it, he tells a story about pirates brutally assaulting a young girl while throwing her parents into the sea. He speaks of his sadness grief, yet tells us he lives in the pirate as well as the young girl. He uses the term “inter-being”, as I recall. Although the ideas are new to me, I think he is driving at the same point about despising the act but keeping hatred at bay. I have so much to learn about all of this. I’ve come to the right place. Thanks for your words of wisdom, echoed from across the millennia.
I'm going to make this specific, about one very particular person, and about the ones around him, and about myself.
I loathe Donald Trump. I despise the things he says and does. I'm beyond livid about the damage he and his cabal have done to the world, the thousands to millions of people who have or will die due to their actions.
And yet. I remember when he pulled his stunt on the White House Balcony after he got back from Walter Reed Hospital when he had COVID 19. I remember watching videos of him yanking his mask off. And I remember feeling concern for someone who was obviously having difficulty breathing. For a minute he was just a sick person who couldn't breathe and he was the face of people the planet over who were also sick and having trouble breathing but without the cameras.
And yet. I watched him going to get into the future Air Force 1, forgetting that it wasn't the plane he was flying on, just the one he was showing off. I watched him wandering around confused and alone at the G7 just days ago. I watched him standing alone, not knowing what to do. I watched him needing help to get up stairs. And I remember my grandmother not knowing which apartment was hers at the retirement home. I remember her forgetting names. Dementia is cruel, to everyone that loves the person and to the person themselves who doesn't understand what is happening or why.
And yet. I watch him up all hours of the night and dozing off during the day. I watched my grandfathers and grandmothers all do it. I'm watching my mom doing it now. It's a common thing as people get older. It just is. Pretending it isn't happening is ridiculous.
And yet. I look at his ankles, at the bruises on his hands, the rash on his neck. The swollen eyes, the slurring words. The forgetting words, losing his train of thought, rambling on about everything and nothing because he forgets what he is talking about in the middle of talking about it.
Which leads to me being angry at the people around him who obviously know, much better than I ever possibly could tell from videos, just how sick he is. If this were happening with anyone else and the people around them kept trotting them out in public, propping them up and saying everything is fine while they see doctor after doctor, simply to keep their own power and privilege and money flowing, we'd call that elder abuse. But because he's the President of the US, we aren't allowed to get him the care he needs or call the people around him elder abusers.
I loathe Donald Trump. I despise the things he says and does. I'm beyond livid about the damage he and his cabal have done to the world, the thousands to millions of people who have or will die due to their actions.
You have written the watch itself here — the “and yet” running down it like a heartbeat. Stay the course. What you are doing, that straining to hold the line between despising the deed and hating the soul, is the hardest small work there is, and you are doing it on the public record, in real time, about the one man who makes it nearly impossible.
I will confess something to you, because you have been honest and you have earned honesty back. I loathe what this man says and does. I am livid at the harm done, the lives lost and still to be lost. He has taken more of my peace than almost anyone alive, and he has brought me as close to hating a soul as I have ever come. And yet — your words — the sacred that was in each of us before we were even born is the line, and I pray I never cross it. Not for his sake. For the sake of the river that flows out of me, and everyone downstream of it.
The grandmother who couldn’t find her apartment. That undid me. You looked at the most powerful man on earth and saw a frightened old man who cannot breathe, and you let yourself feel concern — and then you turned the accountability exactly where it belongs: up, at the ones propping him up for their own power, which is the truer cruelty. That is the whole of it. Despise the deed. Refuse the hate. Keep the watch. You are keeping it. 🕯️
Oh, but it is soooo hard not to hate him, not to hate all of them. It's SO hard not to. Especially when I feel concern for what we can see happening to him and then he opens his damn mouth and more cruelty spews forth. It's so.damn.hard not to hate him, personally and specifically.
I sometimes say the word because I can't come up with anything stronger to express my utter revulsion for what they do.
Thank you for letting me know I'm not the only one feeling this way.
You are correct that discerning the deed from the person is “the hardest small work there is” , made possible by guarding the heart with vigilance.
Ie, the core of spiritual practice, the sign of advanced maturity. Most of us fail most of the time, but we can learn to distinguish
Since discovering this site (if that’s the correct term) on Substack a few weeks ago, I’ve tried to read every post that comes out daily, sometimes twice daily. I find the writing as compelling as anywhere; no other site presents the arguments and counter-arguments so well. And this post is no exception.
Like Karen, I have had the same strong feelings toward that man, but you wisely point out that we should despise the actions. I stumbled across an audiobook on a recent road trip called The Art of Living, by a Buddhist monk named Thich Nhat Hahn. In it, he tells a story about pirates brutally assaulting a young girl while throwing her parents into the sea. He speaks of his sadness grief, yet tells us he lives in the pirate as well as the young girl. He uses the term “inter-being”, as I recall. Although the ideas are new to me, I think he is driving at the same point about despising the act but keeping hatred at bay. I have so much to learn about all of this. I’ve come to the right place. Thanks for your words of wisdom, echoed from across the millennia.
I'm going to make this specific, about one very particular person, and about the ones around him, and about myself.
I loathe Donald Trump. I despise the things he says and does. I'm beyond livid about the damage he and his cabal have done to the world, the thousands to millions of people who have or will die due to their actions.
And yet. I remember when he pulled his stunt on the White House Balcony after he got back from Walter Reed Hospital when he had COVID 19. I remember watching videos of him yanking his mask off. And I remember feeling concern for someone who was obviously having difficulty breathing. For a minute he was just a sick person who couldn't breathe and he was the face of people the planet over who were also sick and having trouble breathing but without the cameras.
And yet. I watched him going to get into the future Air Force 1, forgetting that it wasn't the plane he was flying on, just the one he was showing off. I watched him wandering around confused and alone at the G7 just days ago. I watched him standing alone, not knowing what to do. I watched him needing help to get up stairs. And I remember my grandmother not knowing which apartment was hers at the retirement home. I remember her forgetting names. Dementia is cruel, to everyone that loves the person and to the person themselves who doesn't understand what is happening or why.
And yet. I watch him up all hours of the night and dozing off during the day. I watched my grandfathers and grandmothers all do it. I'm watching my mom doing it now. It's a common thing as people get older. It just is. Pretending it isn't happening is ridiculous.
And yet. I look at his ankles, at the bruises on his hands, the rash on his neck. The swollen eyes, the slurring words. The forgetting words, losing his train of thought, rambling on about everything and nothing because he forgets what he is talking about in the middle of talking about it.
Which leads to me being angry at the people around him who obviously know, much better than I ever possibly could tell from videos, just how sick he is. If this were happening with anyone else and the people around them kept trotting them out in public, propping them up and saying everything is fine while they see doctor after doctor, simply to keep their own power and privilege and money flowing, we'd call that elder abuse. But because he's the President of the US, we aren't allowed to get him the care he needs or call the people around him elder abusers.
I loathe Donald Trump. I despise the things he says and does. I'm beyond livid about the damage he and his cabal have done to the world, the thousands to millions of people who have or will die due to their actions.
And yet.
You have written the watch itself here — the “and yet” running down it like a heartbeat. Stay the course. What you are doing, that straining to hold the line between despising the deed and hating the soul, is the hardest small work there is, and you are doing it on the public record, in real time, about the one man who makes it nearly impossible.
I will confess something to you, because you have been honest and you have earned honesty back. I loathe what this man says and does. I am livid at the harm done, the lives lost and still to be lost. He has taken more of my peace than almost anyone alive, and he has brought me as close to hating a soul as I have ever come. And yet — your words — the sacred that was in each of us before we were even born is the line, and I pray I never cross it. Not for his sake. For the sake of the river that flows out of me, and everyone downstream of it.
The grandmother who couldn’t find her apartment. That undid me. You looked at the most powerful man on earth and saw a frightened old man who cannot breathe, and you let yourself feel concern — and then you turned the accountability exactly where it belongs: up, at the ones propping him up for their own power, which is the truer cruelty. That is the whole of it. Despise the deed. Refuse the hate. Keep the watch. You are keeping it. 🕯️
Oh, but it is soooo hard not to hate him, not to hate all of them. It's SO hard not to. Especially when I feel concern for what we can see happening to him and then he opens his damn mouth and more cruelty spews forth. It's so.damn.hard not to hate him, personally and specifically.
I sometimes say the word because I can't come up with anything stronger to express my utter revulsion for what they do.
Thank you for letting me know I'm not the only one feeling this way.