Above is what remains of a dead tree.

If you look at the winter photo above, you’ll see that for years its remaining limb had surged up and curved into almost a complete arc over the pools below. I have photos of that long, overhanging branch in spring and fall; in fall it was particularly gorgeous.

I returned to the pools this spring, after the snows melted, and something was missing. The limb had broken on top during our heavy winter (see below). No more arc that framed the landscape, no central element to give it scope and meaning. It was “the rug that really tied the room together,” as the Dude would say, and suddenly it’s not there, which is what happened to the Dude’s rug, too, in The Big Lebowski.

I stood and stared at the scene. It was familiar, yet not. Like when something that has given significance and depth to a situation or relationship is suddenly withdrawn or disappears, and for a moment it feels like all meaning and importance are gone and what’s left is chaos.

“What’s the deal here?” I wanted to ask, implying that I used to know what the deal was, and now I didn’t. I needed that central element, the prime character, the musical theme. I needed the story. Eventually, I’ll create a new story and new meaning, but till then I have to live in the midst of the incoherence around me, till something new emerges.

Is that what’s happening now? It’s hard to recognize this country. Certain basic elements that we took for granted, that gave meaning to the place, are gone.

We took for granted that private universities aren’t threatened with take-over and usurpation of decision-making by the federal government. Now, not only are research grants blocked off from those that won’t knuckle under, but their tax-free status is also being threatened.

We took for granted that people are not intimidated due to their social or political positions when they’re at variance with the federal government. We took for granted that the US will continue to provide urgently-needed food and medical equipment to populations that literally can’t survive without them. Instead, a multi-billionaire shows off with a chainsaw to dismantle USAID, chortling and laughing all the time.

We took for granted that immigrants granted legal status, even temporarily, don’t get deported, not back home, but to some terrible foreign prison. We took for granted that government agents, their faces covered, don’t go into elementary schools to “question” immigrant children to “see if they’re safe.”

We took for granted that this country encourages everyone to flourish in their individual way regardless of personal identity. People raised various flags depending on what they were celebrating, and what they were celebrating was pride at being who they were, respect for their history and traditions, and enthusiasm towards an optimistic future. But clouds have covered that particular sun, and the chill is widely felt.

We had respect and confidence in the members of Congress and the Senate, we had trust in courts, and even the most cynical among us, those pointing over and over to the power of money in our system, still felt that the system was worth saving.

Some of these central elements are gone; it feels as though anarchy runs wild. We don’t recognize the forest and trees. Institutions we took for granted, sure they would be there for a long time, have been cut off. Our political winter continues well into spring.

How do we live when the central themes we were banking on are gone, when sometimes we can’t even recognize the neighborhood? What happened to the palette we all shared even as we disagreed about shapes and colors? And what remains?

You and I remain, breathing, alive. The ground beneath our feet remains. Will the robins that, over the past years, created and re-created a nest right beneath the roof gutter outside the office window come back? I don’t know. The apple tree out front didn’t give many apples last year, what will happen this year? I spread my toes as wide as possible because I’ve learned in Foundation Training to make my foot big, not keep it narrowly squeezed as if it’s still in a shoe.

Often, when everything seems abandoned, that’s when we find ourselves. Maybe we needed some pruning, to remind us of what’s superfluous and what’s at the center of things. Not the old selves we once were, not the “normal” selves we hung on to during the Biden years, but the selves returning to the essence, the Golden Rule, the reminder to serve life under all circumstances.

That mainstay no one can take away.