I've been thinking along these lines as I read Toko Pa Turner's Belonging. At a point she experiences excruciating debilitating pain, which she at first ignores or shuns. "Why are you here pain?" She finds that blaming herself for the pain is wrong. "Pain is the first proper step to real compassion; it can be a foundation for understanding all those who struggle with their existence. Experiencing real pain ourselves, our moral superiority comes to an end; we stop urging others to get with the program, to get their act together or to sharpen up, and start to look for the particular form of debilitation, visible or invisible that every person struggles to overcome." Quoth she.

I am not sure what to say about the macrocosm of grief in a Trump world of so much suffering. I guess we can move forward with curiosity and hope as best as we can. We can love our wounds, love the intimate parts of our grief. That is all I know.