Teetering on the Brink by Wendy Millstine

(Image generated by AI)

Journal entry for Sept. ‘26:
I’m really struggling these days with the violence, the rampant hatred and scapegoating, and the intense conflict and divisiveness reflected in the many spheres of our society
—culturally, politically, socially, environmentally, economically, spiritually, and more.

I wonder if you feel it too?
This unbearable level of escalation, hour after hour,
even when you avoid doom-scrolling the news.
This sharp sense of urgency creates an internal tension
I feel it in my solar plexus.

I’m experiencing a crisis of faith and spirit.
I’ve been told repeatedly that chronic tension leads to dis-ease;
That chronic fear can make us sick.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m horrified, I’m anxious, I’m distraught.
If my dad were alive today, he would have said,
“We’re up shit creek without a paddle.”
What is the breaking point?
Can we survive societal collapse?

Where is the hope to hang my hat on?
Can America ever recover from its relentless policies
of cruelty and corruption?
Do we, as a community, have what it takes
to support, encourage, and hold out hope
to keep each other afloat?
These questions keep me up at night.

So, I’m doing my best to stay in the present moment,
while focusing on the journalists and activists and human rights advocates
who are pushing to bring more awareness and accountability to our country.
Meanwhile, I feel adrift and fearful for our future.

When I focus on the peaceful moments singularly or collectively in our world, I can stand in unity, clarity, humility, and gratitude.
But often, as I peruse the news and open the floodgate of injustices, it feels immensely overwhelming.
I’m not overwhelmed to the point of paralysis. But I am struggling with feeling weak, ineffective, failing, flailing, inadequate, and like we’re fighting not one Goliath but rather countless Goliaths.

When I focus on being of service to my local community on the ground, which is my guiding light and commitment, then I can stay on track, on task.
I can maneuver around the predators of cynicism, apathy, and defeatism that lurk in the shadows behind every corner with their story of my ineptitude and powerlessness.
When I show up to be present to the injustice, then I am able to maintain some semblance of sanity as a witness and as a participant and as a dreamer of a better, kinder, safer world, despite the walls crumbling around me that prove otherwise.

I’ve been told that Medea Benjamin, co-founder of Code Pink,
says that she’s playing the long game,
which makes damn wise sense to me.
I too want to play the long game.

We become the river carving the stone—slow, relentless, and impossible to stop.
We don’t count our victories for instant gratification’s sake.
Instead, we plant seeds for the revolution yet to bloom.
And when despair and futility creep into our horizon,
we remember not to poison others with it.
Cynicism and defeatism are contagious,
easily rotting a movement from the inside out.
We cling to an uncertain future,
knowing in our hearts that
we did what we could do.
we do what we must do.

Written by Wendy Millstine