Pat Taub
“The great challenge . . . is to keep awake the part of you that knows . . . what it means to be alive.”
The Marginalian, February, 22, 2026
Trump’s devastating takeover of the federal government has awakened many here and abroad to the perils the U S faces. Authoritarianism merges with fascism at home. Injustice and inequality grow. We have been seduced by flag waving patriotism, lectures on independence, freedom and dignity. What we’ve long taken for granted has become a shadow.
For decades there was plenty of evidence for this, yet loyalists on both sides of the aisle ignored the blatant corporate greed and the wish to extend American domination.
We’re waking up.
Establishment supporters are stunned by the gestapo tactics of Homeland Security, the war crimes against Venezuelans, Cubans, and Palestinians. Ignorant and self-serving reversals of decades of effort and progress in understanding human contributions to the changing climate, the decimation of support for research and care in medicine, the invasion of academic institutions, shock and threaten us.
ICE using unnecessary force in Minneapolis (Minnesota Star Tribune)
And plain for all to see is Trump’s narcissism – renaming the Kennedy Center, the demolished West Wing, and most recently, a huge flag with his image hanging outside the Justice Department. His venal, erratic behavior is on full display. It can’t be overlooked even by the powerful and enfranchised.
Trump’s image on the Justice Department facade
Once awakened, how does one stay awake?
For me, it means not averting my gaze, and doing what I can to resist, while not letting the forces of darkness overtake me. And while I appreciate the advice to incorporate pockets of joy in our lives, there are days when I can’t force joy, when it feels hollow. When I choose to be present in my despair and hopelessness, ironically new understandings frequently occur.
I’m reminded of the Simon and Garfunkel song, “Sound of Silence.” While the song -written after John Kennedy’s assassination – is about feeling disconnected, it also tells me about the seeds that can be planted in silence.
Writing often brings clarity and a path out of my darkness
I’m learning, when stuck in a dark place, to bring light into my life. It could be a gratitude practice, or finding a way, no matter how small, to raise my voice in support of Palestine, Cuba, or our migrant community, to oppose war, and to call for peace with Iran and in the Middle East.
Using my voice in resistance lifts my heart. I feel alive and awake when I join with others in a protest or an enlivening Zoom meeting with colleagues.
Yours truly on the right, standing for Gaza
Even more light comes in when I’m with family and loved ones and friends – exchanging love and gratitude fortifies me. And it’s okay for me to “check out’ for a while: to block incessant news feeds and doomsayers, and the Pollyanna’s.
When the temptation to numb myself, to escape becomes too great, I prod myself to wake up. I don’t chastise any of us for periods of falling asleep. Routine self-checks and rest are critical for resilience, for moving back into an awakened state.
A recent New York Times Op Ed by historian Ian Buruma, draws a comparison to German citizens during Hitler’s reign, when many looked away, numbing themselves to the mounting atrocities. He observes: “Today’s outrage is tomorrow’s normal. People adapt and get used to it.” His cautionary warning: “The human capacity for hope is an essential quality. But hope can also turn into delusion.”
We are called to avoid delusion, to rescue ourselves and one and other, to stay awake to the horrors unfolding, to do what we can to resist, while holding on to the hope that the “better angels of our nature” will touch us all.
