"I am the Resistance"

In the darkening landscape of our current political climate, I find myself compelled to speak out, to join the growing chorus of dissent. As an individual with a degree in European history, I feel a profound responsibility to stand against the rising tide of hate, ignorance, and authoritarianism that is sweeping across this nation. The administration of the bloviating flatulence and his neo-Nazi enablers represents a catastrophic deviation from the democratic principles upon which this country was founded. It is an administration steeped in corruption, greed, and an utter disregard for the values that once defined the soul of America. As someone who has studied the horrors of Nazi Germany, I cannot sit idly by as history threatens to repeat itself.

My own family fought against the scourge of fascism during World War II, and I know they must be turning in their graves as they watch what is happening to this country. My cousins were among the brave men who fought in the trenches to ensure that the world would never again be subjected to the horrors of Hitler and his regime. They fought to prevent the very ideology that is now rising like a serpent from the ashes of history. Yet today, I find myself watching as that ideology—now cloaked in the guise of nationalism and populism—gains ground in our own government, poisoning our political discourse and undermining the very essence of democracy.

One of the most striking failures of our time is the collapse of our system of checks and balances. When the institutions that are meant to uphold the Constitution and protect the American people from tyranny falter, the entire system begins to crumble. The judiciary, once a bastion of justice, has become a politicized tool, with judges appointed not for their qualifications, but for their loyalty to a party that seeks to consolidate power and silence dissent. The Department of Justice, charged with enforcing the law, has been rendered impotent by a combination of political pressures and a lack of will to hold the powerful accountable. The failure to indict or impeach the bloviating flatulence for his numerous crimes is a glaring example of this failure. A man who has brazenly abused his position for personal gain, incited violence, and spread lies that have eroded the trust of the American people, has not faced the justice he so richly deserves.

But the rot does not stop there. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC), once a regulatory body designed to ensure fair and balanced media coverage, has allowed corporate right-wing media to consolidate power and dominate the airwaves. The consequences of this deregulation are catastrophic. A media ecosystem that should be a pillar of democracy has become a propaganda machine, spinning false narratives and sanitizing the darkest elements of our politics. News outlets like Fox News, OANN, and others have become echo chambers for conspiracy theories and disinformation, twisting the truth to serve their political masters. The media has failed us—not only in its duty to inform but also in its failure to hold those in power accountable. It has become a tool for spreading fear, hatred, and division, instead of fostering a public discourse based on facts, reason, and mutual understanding.

As the political storm continues to gather strength, we are all faced with a moral reckoning. As fascism and neo-Nazism take root in the heart of our political system, each of us will be confronted with difficult choices. Will we stand by as our democracy is dismantled? Will we remain silent as our institutions are hollowed out? Will we allow the forces of hate and bigotry to determine the future of this nation? Or will we choose to resist?

I have no illusions about the challenges that lie ahead. The resistance will not be easy, and it will not be without cost. The forces arrayed against us are powerful, and they will stop at nothing to maintain their grip on power. But I believe that we must resist, not because it is easy, but because it is necessary. We must resist not only for ourselves, but for the generations that will come after us. We must resist for the memory of those who fought and died to preserve our freedoms. We must resist for the sake of truth, justice, and humanity.

The coming days will require each of us to make difficult choices. It will require moral courage to speak out, to protest, and to act in defiance of an administration that seeks to destroy everything that makes this country great. It will require us to confront our own fears and prejudices and to stand united in the face of overwhelming odds. But we cannot afford to be passive. We cannot afford to be complacent. The time for silence is over.

I am the resistance. And I call upon all who believe in justice, in freedom, in the sanctity of life, and in the dignity of all people to join me. Together, we can stand against the darkness. Together, we can fight to protect the values that have defined this nation for centuries. The resistance is not just a movement; it is a moral imperative. And it starts now.

In the coming days, I will fight. I will fight with every ounce of my being, for as long as it takes, to ensure that the forces of hate and fascism do not triumph. I will fight because I believe in the promise of America, and I refuse to let that promise be destroyed by the bloviating flatulence and his neo-Nazi enablers. The road ahead will be long and difficult, but I will not walk it alone. And neither will you.
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This is our moment to choose. This is our time to rise up and make our stand. The resistance begins now.

~Wylddane

In the cold grip of a January morning, when the air bites with a cruel windchill and everything is wrapped in layers of frost, there is a strange kind of magic that lies beneath the surface of the chill. It’s the kind of magic that comes in dreams, where the mind steps away from the frozen world and wanders into the warmth of a season far away. In the heart of winter, when the earth seems to sleep under the weight of snow and ice, dreaming of spring flowers feels like a small rebellion—a quiet, soft protest against the frozen present.

Perhaps, in that moment, the mind knows something the body does not. That spring, though distant, is not a far-off promise. It’s already inside us, folded in the dark corners of our subconscious, just as the seeds are hidden in the soil, waiting for the warmth of the sun to coax them into bloom. The flowers we dream of are not bound by the calendar or the temperature; they are symbols of renewal, of possibility, of cycles that cannot be broken.
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In the deepest part of winter, we are reminded that even the harshest cold cannot stop the inevitable. Just as the flowers are destined to bloom, so too are we destined to emerge from the darkness, to warm again, to be made new.

~Wylddane
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It was a cold winter morning, and Ciara's boots crunched in the fresh snow as she wandered through the quiet streets of her small village. Her breath formed tiny clouds in the crisp air, and the pale sun, barely visible through the gray clouds, made everything shimmer like a painting. The world felt still, as if it were holding its breath.

Ciara had always loved winter, but this morning, there was something different. She was on her way to visit her grandmother, but as she walked, her eyes wandered across the street to a garden gate she had never noticed before. It was old, with iron bars twisted into delicate shapes—like vines that had been frozen mid-wind.

Curious, Ciara stepped closer. She looked through the gate and gasped. All she could see was snow. The ground beyond was covered in a thick, sparkling blanket, and the trees stood bare, their branches stretching out like dark fingers against the sky. Everything was frozen and silent.

"Just a garden," Ciara murmured to herself, feeling a little disappointed.

But something tugged at her. The gate wasn’t locked, just old. The latch creaked as she pushed it open, the sound strangely loud in the stillness. She took a cautious step forward, her breath hanging in the air in tiny puffs.

And then--whoosh—the world seemed to shift.

The moment her feet crossed the threshold, the cold vanished, replaced by a warmth that wrapped around her like a soft blanket. She blinked in surprise. Before her, the garden bloomed in a riot of color. The snow was gone, replaced by lush green grass, bright flowers in every shade, and tall trees heavy with leaves. Birds flew through the sky, their songs filling the air like sweet music. The sun shone brightly, casting its golden light over everything, and a gentle breeze played with the flowers, making them dance.

Ciara stood still, not sure if she was dreaming. She turned around, but the gate was no longer there—only a long path winding through the garden, leading to a small stone bench beneath a tree.

"How can this be?" she whispered to herself, eyes wide with wonder.

She walked forward, her feet lighter than they had been in the snow. She reached out to touch the petals of a nearby flower, soft as velvet beneath her fingers. The warm sun bathed her face, and she smiled. The scents of fresh blooms filled the air—roses, lavender, daisies—and everything felt so real.

The birds flitted around her, some stopping on nearby branches to chirp happily. A butterfly fluttered past, its wings like stained glass.

For a long time, Ciara just stood there, soaking in the beauty of this secret garden. She didn’t know how it was possible, but it didn’t matter. Here, in this magical place, the world was bright and full of life.

After a while, Ciara knew it was time to go. She took one last look at the garden, feeling its warmth in her heart. As she turned to leave, the garden gate appeared once more, standing just as it had before. She stepped back through it, and the cold winter world greeted her once again. The snow, the quiet streets, the gray sky—they were all waiting for her.

But as she walked toward her grandmother’s house, a small smile played on her lips. She knew that the garden, with its flowers and birds and sunshine, was still there, just beyond the gate. And whenever she needed to find it, all she had to do was look.

The world could be full of surprises if you knew where to look.

~Wylddane



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On a cold winter's day, with snow blanketing the ground like a thick, soft quilt, little Remi ventured out into the woods near his home. His boots crunched through the snow as he walked, his breath rising in puffs of white mist. It was the kind of quiet winter day that made the world feel peaceful, almost as though it were holding its breath.

Remi loved exploring the woods, and today, his curiosity led him to the edge of a small river he had never noticed before. The snow had fallen so thickly that most of the streams were frozen over, but not this one. The river ran clear and swift, its waters sparkling beneath a sky filled with puffy clouds. He knelt down by the riverbank, watching the ripples swirl as the current moved with gentle ease, unfrozen and alive.

The soft murmur of the river called to him, as if it were inviting him to follow. He stood up and began walking along the bank, his little feet crunching through the snow, eager to see where the river might lead. He wasn’t sure why, but something inside him told him that the river held a secret, something magical.

As he walked deeper into the woods, the snow grew thicker, and the trees seemed to close in around him. The world felt quieter now, as if all the creatures had disappeared. But Remi wasn’t afraid. His heart felt light, full of wonder, as he pressed on, following the river’s winding path.

After what felt like hours, he finally came to a clearing. The river widened here, its waters sparkling even more brightly. But it wasn’t just the river that caught Remi’s attention—it was what lay beyond it.

A spring, clear and luminous, bubbled up from the earth in the center of the clearing. The water shimmered with a magical glow, casting soft reflections on the trees around it. And there, gathered around the spring, were creatures of all kinds—birds perched on the branches, squirrels and chipmunks chattered nearby, deer grazed on the snow-dusted grass, and even a great bear sat calmly beside the water. Wolves, their fur gleaming like silver in the sunlight, moved gracefully among the other animals, their eyes kind and wise.
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Remi’s heart skipped a beat. He had never seen anything like this before. The animals weren’t afraid of him. In fact, they seemed to welcome him, as though they knew he belonged.

A small deer with soft, golden eyes stepped forward, its gaze gentle. "Welcome, Remi," it said, its voice soft as the wind. "You’ve found the heart of the forest, where all creatures live in harmony."

Remi could hardly believe his ears. "You can talk?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.

"Here, we all speak the same language," the deer replied, his eyes soft with kindness. "The river brought you to us because you are kind of heart. You listen to the world around you and care for it, as we do."

Remi looked around at the peaceful scene, taking in the sight of the animals living together without fear or conflict. The birds flew in graceful patterns, the wolves walked side by side with the deer, and even the bear sat quietly, its great paws folded in front of it.

"It's beautiful," Remi whispered.

"It is," the deer agreed. "And now, you are a part of it too. The spring will always guide you when you need peace, when you seek understanding. Remember, the forest is never far, and neither are we."

Remi smiled, feeling a warmth fill his heart that had nothing to do with the cold winter air. He knew, deep down, that he had discovered something extraordinary, a secret place where nature thrived in harmony, a place that could not be seen by just anyone—only those who truly listened to the world around them.

With a final glance at the spring and its peaceful inhabitants, Remi turned to leave, knowing that whenever the world outside seemed too cold or lonely, he could always return to this magical place, where the creatures of the forest lived in perfect harmony.

And so, Remi walked back through the woods, the quiet winter day now filled with the warmth of a secret he would carry with him forever.

~Wylddane

My thoughts regarding the election as I expressed to friends and family via text and email this morning:

"There are so many things I could say that I am speechless.  I did not sleep a bit last night.  I am heartbroken.  Hope destroyed.  Faith Shattered.  Ashamed of this country…its people.  And I am scared shitless!  When Kamala was nominated it was like a breath of fresh air…hope was in the air that this nightmare was finally going to be behind us.  With the tens of thousands of people responding to her speeches and rallies, I thought a blue tsunami was going to happen.  Yet…yet…and I risk sounding like our MAGAt friends…something is not right.  Regardless, I am without hope this morning and trying to find some sort of comfort for my soul. I am trying to find a way forward…find some sort of positive thing to cling to…and I cannot.   This is an unmitigated disaster.  Can you imagine how our Nato allies must feel?  Can you imagine the poor people of the Ukraine?  Can you imagine the poor people of Palestine?  Can you imagine the woman of this country?  Can you imagine our gay brethren?  Can you imagine if your skin is a different color?   As one headline this morning read:  “The Nightmare Has Returned.”

This is what I wrote to a close friend this morning:  “My grief is so heavy that I can barely function this morning.  We are at the stage in our lives where we have more days behind us than in front of us.  My dream was to live with a smart, wonderful President in charge.  Now, to be honest, life is grim and it does not seem worth living anymore.  I keep reminding myself one day at a time, one step at a time...but so far that is not working.

If there is anything positive yesterday it was the note from my cardiologist saying that my heart "was pumping well and is strong."

However, this morning my heart is also broken.”

~Wylddane

It is a subdued day here at the wee cottage in the woods.  The quotes/texts from last night and this morning tell the story:

"Sadly, Lulu Belle is not doing very well.  All signs are that her kidneys are failing.  I can’t get her into the vet until Monday afternoon.  Right now she is resting in her kitty bed with a bowl of water next to her.  Her sweet little spirit has had a rough life and it is my hope that if she is to pass, that she passes in her own home where she knows she is loved."

"In the last couple of weeks the clues were there but I was too dumb to put 2 & 2 together…until yesterday."

"Not much has changed since yesterday evening.  She did come upstairs to greet me this morning...and to look out the window for a bit.  Now she has disappeared once again and I am sure if I were to go look for her, she would be in the big comfy kitty bed that belongs to her.  I am keeping her water dish full and have started giving her some wet food...it has moisture and it is nutritious for her.

In a little bit, I will be checking on her to make sure the water bowl is full and to give her a bit more food."

Right now, right now this Saturday morning, Monday is a long ways away from here...

 I love this...it came via FB, of all places, this morning.  Because it captures my thoughts so perfectly, I wanted to save it and share it at the same time:

"I have a theory that the moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself. I have tried this experiment a thousand times and I have never been disappointed. The more I look at a thing, the more I see in it, and the more I see in it, the more I want to see. It is like peeling an onion. There is always another layer, and another, and another. And each layer is more beautiful than the last.

This is the way I look at the world. I don't see it as a collection of objects, but as a vast and mysterious organism. I see the beauty in the smallest things, and I find wonder in the most ordinary events. I am always looking for the hidden meaning, the secret message. I am always trying to understand the mystery of life.

I know that I will never understand everything, but that doesn't stop me from trying.

I am content to live in the mystery, to be surrounded by the unknown. I am content to be a seeker, a pilgrim, a traveler on the road to nowhere."   ~Henry Miller