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How to Wear Your Heart on Your Sleeve (When You Feel a Hot Mess)

This morning I took a pick to the melting ice outside my door and thought of the slow-moving koalas dying as the Australian fires swiftly caught up with them. I thought of the more than one billion animals that have perished at the time of me writing this post, and also of the humans who perished in the plane crash over Iran, some of them, students who had dedicated their lives to social justice causes. As I pounded the ice with my metal tool, I shouted through tears, what the fuck, God, Universe... I had set out to write an upbeat post to kick-off 2020, yet I feel afraid, angry, full of grief. And it's only January 14, so what's in store for the rest of the year? Truthfully, I haven't done much of anything since I heard of the fires in Australia except to read about the continued devastation and feel loss and anger. O.K., so I've been meditating, praying, worrying...feeling a hot freaking mess. This summer I felt like that too when I took to the streets with thousands of others to protest climate change. I saw the anger in young people's eyes and heard children as young as six screaming at the top of their lungs, channeling Greta. It felt good to be around people as incensed and feeling helpless as I was. The connection I felt to some of humanity actually helped me to spill my tears, publicly without shame. I've no answers about how to fix any of this, but I do know that to stop feeling isn't the solution. Anyway, as a writer, I don't see this as an option. When in crisis I often turn to well-known writers who've faced incredible challenges and come through the other side. Last summer I saw the most incredible documentary about Toni Morrison called