When the Coldest Night Conceals the Deepest Secrets: Inside Midwinter Distraction
Those raccoons are gone now. Those forests sheltering their burrows scarcely remain. I’m older and secluded here in Maine in a house too much like the one I grew up in. It’s easy to avoid the news, at least. I’ve been avoiding it more than usual. Maybe I thought we could do something about the world or at least our swath of it. Maybe this lull is part of the process. Inaction as action or all of it just a different kind of distraction. Maybe this is the excuse for doing simply nothing. Avoidance as resistance. What if the goal is simply to avoid reaction?
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