Trail West Dispatch #14 December 27, 2025

 

“Establish a private life.  Nastier rulers will use what they know about you to push you around.  Scrub your computer of malware on a regular basis.  Remember that email is skywriting.  Consider using alternative forms of the internet or consider using it less.  Have personal exchanges in person.  For the same reason, resolve any legal trouble.  Tyrants seek the hook on which to hang you.  Try not to have hooks.”                                                                                                           --Timothy Snyder

I freely admit to experiencing a lot of dissonance related to this advice.  While I am fully on board with the last sentence, I do scrub my computer of malware, and I recognize the danger of being known to “nastier rulers,” I still can’t figure out exactly what establishing “a private life” should mean for me.  So, I engage in an uneasy juggling exercise of tossing some of the advice and reaching for other parts of it.

In the past few years especially, faced with increasing limitations, and the realization that I will need to say no to many good and appealing options, I have settled on repeating to myself and occasionally to others: “I will do what I am able to do.”  What is the remedy when doing what I can do also potentially puts me in harm’s way?  Is avoiding harm the main point in life?  What about all the gender and societal considerations of initiating personal exchanges instead of using email?  What if the internet is the most affordable way of accessing news and the most accessible way of connecting with others when one seldom travels far from home?  What if transparency is a virtue?   Can a clear conscience provide an armor against fear—if not against danger?

I can think of many reasons why some rich, famous, and powerful people wish they had not left a trail of records of their wrongdoing.  If you’ve been following the news on the Epstein files, you’re seeing this play out.  Even Herculean efforts to keep the records “private” have not been successful, and the evidence trail can potentially incriminate those who may be guilty of heinous crimes like sex trafficking children and murdering people who might have spilled the story earlier.  The last has not been confirmed beyond a reasonable doubt, but testimony by people who apparently had direct knowledge of it have spoken out. I have not personally tried this, but others report that the heavily redacted text of the already-released Epstein files becomes “unredacted” by using some simple and routine copy/paste text-manipulation functions.

Also, if you’ve followed the saga of the publicly-scheduled-and-then-canceled CECOT prison exposé in a TV program, you know that efforts to conceal wrongdoing can backfire spectacularly.  In this case, the “canceled” program accidentally aired in Canada, and was freely shared from there with people in the US.  It turns out that the chief law breakers involved with CECOT were likely not the incarcerated ones.

The SS lesson for this week from Matthew tells us about the trial of Jesus in a legal system that was bent toward injustice.  Rulers protected their own position and power.  Citizens lied in their accusations.   The enforcers punished with excessive cruelty.  Guards at the tomb “guaranteed” that those in power would have the last word--until the Kingdom of God triumphed over all of it. 

The guards were apparently knocked out cold with the force of the triumph.  The women who came to the tomb transitioned swiftly from puzzlement to animation and eagerness to communicate.  Over time, all the disciples who were left carried on with new confidence and joy.  This triumph is no less operative today, and following Jesus faithfully in the perplexities and hazards of this moment in time is possible because of it.  It makes possible living transparently, both in private and in public.     –Miriam Iwashige

Trail West Dispatch #13 December 14, 2025

 “Practice Corporeal Politics.  Power wants your body softening in your chair and your emotions dissipating on the screen.  Get outside.  Put your body in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people.  Make new friends and march with them.”  --Timothy Snyder

Some of you may have noticed that this Dispatch is a whole week later than expected.  It wasn’t entirely due to my body softening in my chair and my emotions dissipating on the screen, although I admit that writing about practicing corporeal politics would have felt like fixating on a dripping faucet during a whole-house fire.  Paralysis ensued.   I don’t often get sick, but I was not feeling well part of the time, so that’s also part of the explanation for the silence. I’m still recovering. 

The fire:  Oil from Venezuela is desired, and war seems to be the plan for acquiring it.  The buildup to a formal declaration appears to be underway.  If Congress cooperates in declaring war, the floodgates of presidential discretion open, with potentially disastrous results for survival of a democratic society.  Having already handed the president broad immunity to prosecution for any action taken while in office, the Supreme Court now seems poised to award almost unfettered power to fire anyone the president doesn’t like and to hire anyone he does—with no regard for qualifications or consequences. The same people who unethically collected data on all of us immediately after January 20 are now able to take control of that information to give people who are insufficiently loyal to the regime no place to hide. 

Somali immigrants in Minnesota, most of whom are law-abiding citizens, have been singled out for public shaming and name calling by the president, possibly to clear the way for draconian—and almost certainly arbitrary--immigration enforcement actions planned for their area.  Overseas markets for grain and other farm products are disappearing.  Leaders of foreign countries are repeatedly ignoring US efforts at leadership, purposefully snubbing the US and turning elsewhere, or, in some cases, directly asking for our leaders to be called to account in international courts.  Economic indicators point to runaway costs for consumer goods and health insurance, a tight job market, and growing trade chaos.  US lawmaking bodies by turns fail to function at all, or function only to rubber stamp whatever their leaders propose.

The dripping faucet.  “. . . [M]arch with them” likely prompts uncomfortable visions of protesting while walking purposefully in big groups.  Consider several related ideas that seem better suited to people in our context.  Instead of marching with them, how about conversing with them and extending hospitality to them?   As a preliminary step, how about at least showing up in groups where unfamiliar people gather, observing their actions and the influences that shape them, and offering your own input wherever a need shows up that you might be able to supply?

Maybe it will look like what our family did years ago when we joined the newly-formed Partridge Community Association.  Hiromi said “We live here, and it’s our responsibility to help make this a good place to live.” We joined potlucks, helped plant trees in the park, picked up trash along the highway, helped organize city-wide cleanup events and garage sales, and helped rehabilitate dilapidated housing.  Our children joined others for story hour and summer reading program at the library.  Every opportunity to interact grew the feeling that we lived among friends.  We never thought of it as practicing corporeal politics, but maybe entering unfamiliar places and encountering unfamiliar people is just another way of saying “widen your circle of friends.”  We can probably all agree that this is a good thing, no matter what it’s called.                                                                                                         –Miriam Iwashige

Trail West Dispatch #12, November 28, 2025

 

“Make eye contact and small talk.  This is not just polite. It is a part of being a citizen and a responsible member of society.  It is also a way to stay in touch with your surroundings, break down social barriers, and understand whom you should and should not trust.  If we enter a culture of denunciation, you will want to know the psychological landscape of your daily life.”                      --Timothy Snyder

Have you ever noticed how masterfully some of the people you know manage to strike up a conversation with anyone they encounter?  Often the conversation begins with small talk, meaning that the topics are not important and the words themselves are not unusually interesting.  Despite seeming to have little to recommend it, beginning a conversation without small talk might seem too awkward or abrupt. 

Some of us have never been very good at small talk, but if Snyder is right, maybe even oldsters like us should get small talk figured out.  We do, after all, like the idea of staying in touch with our surroundings, breaking down social barriers, and knowing whom we should trust. If persecution should come our way, we would benefit from having a clear sense for where we fit in society (or don’t fit), who might need our help, and who might prove to be a helpful friend to us.

Recently, because of a medical appointment ahead of the meeting, I arrived late to a monthly meeting of Master Gardeners.  I tried to slip in unobtrusively, quietly greeting only the people sitting near me at the back table.  I absorbed all of the business meeting, and took care of the matters I was responsible for before heading for the exit after the adjournment.  That’s when Becky called my name loudly from the opposite side of the room, along with a hearty welcome and good wishes for the upcoming holiday.  So much for my not creating a stir.  And yay for Becky for seeing me and celebrating my presence.  I don’t think I’ll ever master Becky’s exuberant manner, but I’m pretty sure that I could do better at seeing others who don’t expect to be seen, and giving them a few kind words that would race around their heart in happy circles as Becky’s have done for me in the past.

Becky and I were once the very last people to leave the meeting, and, impulsively, she faced me and said “Miriam, could we just pray together?  I’m so worried about what’s happening in our country, and we need help.”  So, we held each other’s hands and prayed—heartfelt words spoken to the Father who cares.   That time my heart felt a different kind of happiness as I left the meeting site. We had met God together.

On Sunday in church when we prayed in small groups for people in violent and volatile environments, I remembered to pray for eyes to see people we encounter who are in such places, and for hearts to understand and care.  That same afternoon, I learned from a Facebook friend about needed and welcome change in a pastor’s views after having read Myth of a Christian Nation by G. Boyd. A recent Calvary Messenger article may have influenced him as well. Who knows what God may have been teaching him?

Of late, the hateful words uttered and the cruelty exacted on innocent people by those with remarkable positional authority has felt very heavy.  I have needed interactions with good people around me to remind me of what is right and good.  The SS lesson spoke of how Jesus sees what we offer Him and He treasures it.  It was part of an otherwise meaningful service.  Now that I’m focusing on such things, I remember conversations and exchanged greetings with friends after church, satisfaction at having harvested the last roots, leaves, and solid heads from the garden before the deep cold arrived,  savory soup for Sunday lunch, sick people recovering, Cyber Monday deals that feel like provision, grandchildren who do good school work, blazing sunsets and a cold full moon, green fields of wheat, even purring cats and an eager greeting from the dog—all these good things make small talk and eye contact seem within reach.  –Mrs. I.