Upon seeing this feather— really seeing it as I have long trained myself to do—I realized something. Something I have been struggling with. I haven’t been noticing, pondering, appreciating, and wondering about things the way I’ve always done. I have cheapened my life. Cheapened it. Because far too much of it has been preoccupied with an ignorant, dishonest and inconsequential man named Trump. And he is not worth it. In fact, in terms that I care about, he is worth next to nothing. The fact is, he couldn’t hold an intelligent conversation with me if he had 10 advisors at his elbow and his life depended on it. He couldn’t spell smart if you spotted him the ‘s,’ the ‘m’, the ‘a’ and the ‘r.’ Bluntly, my life is more worthwhile than his. So is yours, by the way. Again, by any criteria you and I care about. He has no identifiable talents—other than lying, cheating, and self-aggrandizement. And somehow co-opting others into his lying, cheating, and self-absorption. There are no other salient talents or abilities. So, I prefer to think about human beings who have offered something of value to the world, who changed history or just made some humble person’s life a little better, by their gifts and the efforts of their character.

So, I’m done with him. I know who he is and what he is. He’s nothing. A cipher. Unsubstantial and inconsequential. And worth next to nothing of my time.

But, you may say, he IS changing history—our country and even the world. There must be something there worth pondering, something of consequence. I answer, no. There’s not. When it comes to that, what is interesting, and worth pondering and considering, and striving to understand and perhaps someday to change, is the fact that about half the population of our country has decided to attach their lives—their hopes and emotions and resentments and even their souls—to a nothing. A void. A worthless cheat. Have decided to give up or corrupt every ideal, institution, or tradition they claim to have once cared about.

Yes, that is indeed passing strange. That is interesting and worth pondering, and struggling with, and grieving and battling. And so I will. Likely you will as well. And we will consider such things here, together. But in not devoting time and energy to a malevolent fool and his lifelong and infantile quest for attention, I will leave myself more room—much more room—to ponder a feather. And the little bird that left it here. And the goldenrod that now blooms along the roadsides. And the river flowing by and the trees towering overhead, and history and art and music and other worthwhile things.

‘Consider the lilies of the field…’ said a certain Teacher 2,000 years ago. I believe it is time to start considering them again.

(This is my newest Substack post. You can follow/support me there at Notes From The Campfire@douglaswood/author).