I was sitting in a coffeehouse with my laptop recently, diligently scrolling through the horrors of the world, wondering what useful thing there was to say about any of it, when a man I know stopped by my table.
I get testy when people interrupt my work -- really, scrolling through the horrors of the world, aka the news, is work -- but this man knows me well enough that he responded to my curtness by saying he’d be quick.
He said he just wanted to mention that he and his wife had been traveling around, working to get out the vote in November.
At that point, I expected him to launch into a lament on how depressing, infuriating and otherwise awful the world was right now, a refrain that on any given day is long, and on that day looked something like this:
A Saudi Arabian journalist who wrote for The Washington Post and was critical of the Saudi regime had been murdered in the Saudi consulate in Istanbul.
Several thousand migrants were trudging north toward the US border, fleeing violence, corruption and poverty; the current president had suggested, without evidence, that terrorists might be among them.
The federal government was considering redefining transgender people out of legal existence.
The current president continued to mock the media, to call facts that don’t suit him “fake” and to praise a congressman who body-slammed a reporter.
Add to all that the ongoing horrors of racism, sexism and climate change.
But the man who stopped by my table didn’t mention any of the ugliness. Instead, he talked for a moment more about getting out the vote. Then he smiled.
“This is a time of purpose,” he said, as he headed off with a wave. “We are on a mighty crusade.”
Huh.
This is a time of purpose. We are on a mighty crusade.
What a refreshing change from the anger and lament.
In psychology, there’s a concept known as “reframing.” It involves turning a problem into a challenge, looking for words and ways to view something bad or difficult in a more useful light.
Reframing is not the same as delusion. Delusion is a failure to grasp reality. When you reframe, you see reality but understand that it has many angles. You acknowledge that what you perceive depends on where you look, on where you stand, on how you name what you see and feel.
This man wasn’t looking away from the horrors of the world. He was looking at them differently, finding a different approach to the same ugly events.
He was trading aimless anger for purpose.
Viewed through a common frame, the time we’re living in is, without a doubt, one of rage and fear. It’s not the first such time. It may not even be the worst. But collectively we’re on permanent boil, with new reasons every day to be angry and afraid.
Pipe bombs are mailed to prominent critics of the current president. The recipients include Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, George Soros and Robert De Niro.
The stock market takes a dive.
As November elections approach, many Americans face unjust obstacles to registering to vote.
And the current president, as usual, blames the anger on the media, guaranteed to stir more anger.
When you’ve been alive for a while, of course, you’ve lived through many ages of rage and fear, and it’s hard to know yet where the current one ranks in the hierarchy.
The recent spate of pipe bombs is reminiscent of the anthrax attacks that began in September 2001. A week after terrorists destroyed the World Trade Center, letters laced with deadly anthrax spores began showing up at media outlets and at the US Capitol. Five people died.
The investigation lasted years; the suspect committed suicide before a trial. The anthrax panic passed.
For a while afterward, in the early days of Barack Obama’s presidency, the great American buzzword was hope. That passed too.
So here we are in this new age. Call it a time of rage and fear. Or reframe it. Call it a time of purpose.
It’s a time when our fundamental American values -- of fairness, justice, tolerance, inclusion, decency, dedication to truth -- are tested daily. But the test is not a defeat. It’s a summons to the crusade.
Go vote.
Mary Schmich
Mary Schmich is a columnist for the Chicago Tribune. -- Ed.
(Tribune Content Agency)
