After the first disaster in 2016 when my rage had cooled slightly to a low simmer, I consoled myself with Nature and the fact that no matter how awful the news got, I could still look out at see the mountains and sky and the obliviously singing birds out my window. Now here we are again and it's somehow worse, and honestly a lot of the time Nature just isn't cutting it as a coping mechanism. The other day I actually had a kind of burning jealousy for the sparrows singing their morning song. "They don't know," I thought. "They'll never know." God how I envied them. Even moving to another country doesn't feel like the panacea it once was. I'm briefly comforted when I leave for work in the morning and come back at night seeing the red and white maple leaf flag blowing in the breeze on my porch. It can almost feel like I don't live in this weird retrogressive place. But the glow quickly fades as soon as I look at my phone or computer or catch a snippet of his voice on the BBC World Service. But then I think I can't let Him rule my emotional life. An Israeli diplomat interviewed for a podcast about the President's casually delivered ethnic cleansing policy in Gaza had this advice for the host when asked how we should react. "Get a hobby," he suggested.  I wonder if it's too late to learn how to play the violin.