I found this picture and it struck a chord. I am stand-up paddling far off the Kona Coast in Hawaii in the early 2000s.  It was a calming, meditative experience and I always felt transported – as I was in fact! – to a different world, where all I heard was the rhythmic slap of waves under the board and all I saw was a gray blue, sometimes sparkling, expanse all the way to the horizon. I took to SUP immediately, rarely falling, riding the undulating surface, bent knees, ready to absorb whatever peaks and valleys lay ahead. I loved it and whenever we visited the Big Island, we went out – me on the board, Roberto in a kayak.  

It was dangerous, given the life teeming below me that could have upset me at best and eaten me at worst. Dolphins are a favorite food of sharks, and apparently a paddle board seen from below, silhouetted against the sky, looks just like a dolphin, if you are a shark. I am a cautious person in unfamiliar settings, and I can’t imagine now what drove, or lured, me out there. Maybe the simplicity, the isolation, being alone, a tiny speck in the immense, awesome ocean. I had faith – in what I can’t say — that I would survive, and if not it would have been worth it.

It is now 2026, well into the second year of an egomaniacal dictator’s second term as US president. I don’t know what will become of this country. Huge damage has been done already, and authoritarianism is a reality. I am fighting as best I can, protesting, writing, organizing, supporting youth-run initiatives, and sending money in many directions.

Fear and hopelessness are the administration’s most deadly weapons.

I refuse to go there. Yes, there are life-threatening monsters swimming in my waters, ready to capsize me, take a bite out of me. But I can rise above, grip the board with my toes, bend my knees to ride the next wave, breathe deep and focus on the horizon. There is beauty, calm, and strength to be found if we rise above the chaos and panic. And if we look around at others — on paddle boards or rafts, in kayaks or rowboats, or whatever you need to keep yourself afloat – the view is fantastic! There is an ocean of community, an ocean full of hope. Sure, you will tumble into the fear, sink below into the darkness. But if you can scramble up to the surface, there will likely be a hand to help you climb back onto your board.