Juniper Disco | No. 37

We start again.

I haven’t written anything publicly and very little privately for close to a year. It’s been a month since I wrote the following annual reflection to capture the overall feeling of 2025 – an act of self-agency to record my personal experience in a world that wants to erase such truth-telling. I wrote it for myself.

But in that one month we saw things that left me asking what I can offer. If the people of the Twin Cities can put their bodies in harm’s way, I can certainly publish these words. I suspect I will burn to a crisp if I don’t.

So we will start again.

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I was vaguely aware of the transition of power taking place on the TV over my head while sitting in an oppressively tight hospital room with my family while we kept my mom company. Things were not going right while the rest of the country hit the gas towards the cliff in that direction.

Since then, I’ve been in a deliberate state of retreat, gathering my belongings and my loves as I go, an effort to keep from sliding off this planet.

It’s been a year of pulling a metaphorical blanket over my life — staying low, staying small, staying still. A year of foundational shuddering. A year of mourning and letting go. A year of moving backwards and sideways, but never forward. A year of crouching deep and weathering the attacks. A year when my brain and soul screamed NO!! with such regularity that even in my dreams at night I could hear the alarm.

I downloaded and deleted my way through the year. I emptied the corporate-owned spaces of my content, my life, my photos, my existence and invested in hard drives and old tech, pens and paper. I shifted to encrypted this and encrypted that. I ditched my tracker and started wearing a ten-year-old Swatch on my wrist. I retreated to the quiet corners of the interwebs, erasing and covering my tracks behind me.

I changed where we shop for almost everything. Changed what we use and how we use it. After getting hit with a surprise tariff charge in the midst of the ongoing flood of proclamations, I stopped ordering anything from outside the US.

I also filled my book sanctuary with used copies of books they threaten to take away from us and collected used DVDs after one streaming service after another failed us. I bought directly from independent writers. I added more analog games and puzzles from small businesses.

I collected and curated all the medicines and potions and balms to carry us through these decidedly unmagical times. I started wearing my Medusa ring and a dragon nail decal on my middle, left finger. I carried twinkle lights in my purse. I watched cartoons every Saturday morning. I disappeared into dark books that ripped my heart apart in a million pieces. I read books with dragons and magical creatures. I read books where women dramatically and decisively save the world with their strength and courage and infinite wisdom.

I grew food for my family and started perennial seeds that could be used for medicinal purposes. I expanded our reserves of necessary supplies. I also hoarded jars of olives, Korean face cleanser, Sharpies, and scented liquid hand soaps. I kept 10 lbs. of Kerrygold butter in my freezer at all times.

I paused to record bird symphonies on my walks, just in case they ever stop.

We learned to tell time in two time zones. Four people I know moved to another continent, including my niece.

We battled fleas. We raged at the television. We nursed my beloved Stephen through two surgeries. Both successful. Both benign.

We struggled against cancer. Again. We felt the hope drain out of us watching the obliteration of the science that one day would have allowed us to breathe a little in this fight. We felt the impact as appointments became harder to get, as communication became less robust.

I suppressed my rage. Shoved the inferno as far down as I could. These words the first pressure release I’ve had.

And in the midst of all of that, a nurse told me that I have “the blood pressure of a serial killer.” Calm and even, that inferno condensed into a cold rage fueling me as I sliced through the ever-piling muck.

There were good things. I saw the aurora borealis from my back deck again – twice (lifetime count: six.) I survived a week without indoor plumbing, power, and running water in a shack in the dunes by myself. I cheered on my niece as she lived out her dreams. I soaked in the incredible energy around Rebecca Yarros at Fourth Wing Night at the Red Sox. I had a summer full of tomatoes, eggplants, and peppers. I spent a whole week with my bestie. I finally dressed up as Princess Leia for Halloween. I had a fucking epic reading year. I found joy and awe watching Flow and Scavengers Reign and I obsessed over Celebrity Traitors UK. I created a cozy nest with black flannel sheets, a textured weighted blanket, twinkle lights, a galaxy lamp, and a projector filling my walls with dragons and castles and deep forest creatures.

The world is devastatingly cruel, terrifying, violent, morally eviscerated AND it is beautiful, fascinating, amusing, delightful. Navigating the “And” leaves me so confused and feeling like we are one Zone of Interest* away from being just as monstrous as the devils we oppose.

I’m choosing whispers of “yes” over screams of “no” even if I can barely hear them. Opening the doors and windows for fresh wintery air every day. Making things with my hands. A week watching all the Criterion Channel movies I can fit into a free trial. Fires in the fireplace in the mornings. Reading more than scrolling. Spending more time in the flow state. Eating oranges.

Fighting the attempted erasure of our lives with every whispery “yes.”

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I always look to stories for guidance. Here are a few that have kept me clear-minded about what I believe is true, just, and worthy. If you do nothing else, spend a few minutes clicking on the links:

• *The Zone of Interest – to remind yourself of how ugly it is to be complicit

• Masters of the Air – to remind yourself what was sacrificed

• The Hunters, Season 2, Episode 7: “The Home” – to remind yourself of the choices others made to help (Extremely violent. Entire series is worth your time, but this episode is independent of the narrative of the rest of the show.)

• Battlestar Galactica – to remind yourself to guard your brain, your free will, and your agency

• Throne of Glass book series — to cheer on bad ass women in all forms taking down empires of darkness