The world feels like it’s exploding.

If you are like me, you are constantly fighting with yourself between staying informed even at the risk of marinating your brain in Sensationalist Hate Broth of social media, and burying yourself in tiny comforts and ignorance until it goes away.

I have my own opinions of Israel vs. Hamas, and since October 10th I have felt the need to share them as loud as possible. Maybe, just maybe, at the cost of my peace of mind and sanity I could get people to stop being pissy and angry and screaming past each other so that maybe- MAYBE- we could all make sure the violence, madness, and death stops.

Wasn’t gonna happen. There’s room for every voice and opinion on the internet, but social media in particular isn’t built for connection or communication. It’s built for engagement- for keeping us doomscrolling and “interacting” and staring at ads and being on the platform for as long as possible.

Things that make sense don’t help that. Patience, compassion, complexity, and nuance don’t jive with that goal. Anger, rage, hate, pain, and self-righteousness do. After marinating in that hellbroth for way too long on a false hope, I made the call to back off for my own sake. I post for this blog, I answer messages, and (every now and then) I watch funny videos. That’s it.

There’s ways to bring happiness and reason to the world, but screaming on social media sure as shit isn’t one of them. By backing off, you get the brainspace and emotional bandwidth to find them on your own.

I won’t get into the specifics of my stance here. Instagram exists, and that’s not the point of this post. Suffice to say that if you think I’m absolutely “pro” or “anti” one side or the other, you are very wrong.

The irony of it all, of course, was that while I was wading through that shitmist of hate and anger, I never felt more alone. Isolated. Lonely and cold. When I pulled back, I started reaching out DIRECTLY to stay in contact with friends.

I have more time, more energy, more joy… and I no longer feel alone.

First came my old roommates mom, a kind and loving women who reached out unbidden and expressed sympathy for my emotional situation.

Then came an old college friend I’d all but lost contact with. She is Jewish and was feeling the same isolation I was, so she reached out to remind me she existed and that we weren’t alone.

Then another old friend of mine I’d all but lost touch with. Emily and I danced at his wedding and he admitted he was feeling guilty about losing track of folks, but he wanted to reach out to sympathize. We discussed our hobbies, our lives, and where they have taken us in the near-decade since.

Then another friend. And another. Then reaching out to others myself. And above all of it was the peace. The ability to work and think and contribute joy in my own way to the world without having to waste energy explaining the concept of empathy to others, or the need to have a “side” or a “hot take.”

I don’t have my head in the sand. I still keep track of things through news sources I trust. But I know that if I want to make things better, it doesn’t have to come at the cost of cooking my brain trying to outscream echo chambers.

It feels small, but just by being kind, being patient, and putting good things into the world that weren’t there before. Baking is pretty ideal for that- and meadmaking.

Back when I was piemonging at farmers markets in West Linn, I met a kind couple who raised bees and sold honey. At the end of each day, I’d give away the random slices that I couldn’t be bothered to drag back to the shop, and these folks insisted on giving me some of their honey in trade.

I sat on the honey for nearly a year, trying to think of something special to do with it. The idea of making it into mead and giving them a bottle (because as far as I knew, they didn’t know if anyone made wine with their goods) was already appealing, but I wanted to figure out how to make it something more.

After the last week and cleaning out my fermenters, it hit me. A rhodomel– a mead made with roses symbolic of Palestine. Made with honey given in kindness, by a Jewish man that just wants people. To stop dying for the ancient grudges of old men and dead empires.

That feels right.

Stay Classy,