Welcome back to Good Life, a newsletter about navigating our modern culture and staying sane in the process. This week, we talk about the importance of standing alone, even if it costs you a lot.
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Last week, my husband and I spent time hunting elk in Idaho. There is so much to witness and experience on a trip like this that you will probably see me unpacking it over the next couple of newsletters. But one point stood out to me immediately on the first hunt as we made our way up the ridge.
This was only our second hunting trip in Idaho, and we still didn’t know the mountains well enough, so we had a guide. As my husband pointed out, there’s no sense in getting lost in the woods just to prove a point. Especially not when four daughters are patiently waiting for us to return safely.
If you’ve ever hunted before, you know it’s important to get to your spot before the sun comes up and the animals start moving around. You want to try to blend in with the natural surroundings as best you can so they don’t stay hidden behind tree lines and feel comfortable exposing themselves. As my husband and I sat on top of a ridge glassing for elk, I noticed the pine trees seemed to bunch together in groups. There were so many on the opposite ridge from us that it was as if their seed hadn’t missed a single spot on the ground. It was a mini forest.
But right smack dab in the middle of this pine-tree eternity stood a break, with a single pine in the gap. I knew I was supposed to be looking for elk. By this point, the morning sun had peaked over the ridge behind us, spotlighting the side we thought the elk would be traveling on. When the sun hits their bodies, they shine like gold dots against all that green. But I wasn’t exactly doing my job. I had become distracted by the single tree by itself, and the thought wouldn’t leave my mind that sometimes I feel like that lonely tree.
Politics is a team sport in many ways. You find your side of the aisle, and camaraderie naturally forms between your like-minded friends. It can help, especially in times like these, when doing the hard work means swimming against the current. But it can also be an incredibly lonely experience that, if you aren’t strong enough, can make you second-guess how you see the world.
I think specifically about the immigration debate and how far we’ve come in talking about it. Even just two years ago, I couldn’t write about the perils of legal immigration without my side of the aisle balking. They’d tell me that our country needs immigrants and that it didn’t matter if communities were changing because their presence uplifts the national economy. This point has always particularly angered me. Keeping a shared heritage should be the ultimate goal of any policy decision.
Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who sees what I see. The dangers or the potential of different policy decisions. And like that tree, I stand alone, unnerved by the forest staring back at me. I’ve never been someone who backs down easily from a fight I think is just. My opinion, once set, is not easily changed. This is an admirable quality I think more people should embrace, but it comes at a cost. People will misunderstand your point, seemingly on purpose. They’ll attack you and magnify your loneliness. You have to be willing to weather the storm on your own until other trees find their way to you.
Now, Vice President JD Vance openly discusses the abuse of specialty visas, and my comment section is filled with people calling for the programs to end. On this, I’m no longer the lonely tree.
Just as I was getting lost in this thought, a fleck of gold peeked out behind a tree. All three of us turned our sights on the sparkle. It wasn’t an elk, just a tree stump catching the light as the sun rose higher.
“It can be like hunting ghosts,” our guide whispered. We all let out a soft chuckle at the truth of his words and went back to our silent reflections.
Almost immediately, I looked for that lonely tree again. I hadn’t finished processing it and wanted more time to work through my thoughts. That’s the funny thing about hunting. You can sit in the same spot for hours waiting to see something. It gives you a lot of time to think about life and how you want it to go. It’s important to have time to reflect. You can plan course corrections and build protections in your mind while everything is still. We don’t have many opportunities in our instant-connection society to do this anymore. That’s part of why I love it so much.
Ironically, on top of the ridge is one of the few spots where I got cell service. It was just strong enough to get intermittent messages but not enough juice to reply. Almost as if by divine design, I received an email response from a reader who had just finished my latest newsletter on absentee grandparents. It only partially loaded, but I could see the preview started with “Great Column,” and I smiled and put away my phone. The ones that get it truly do. The ones that don’t often lash out because they are hurt by how it magnifies their faults.
I started thinking about how it was yet another example of being the lonely tree. I’m happy in that spot, reflecting on that tree. It helped remind me that it’s okay to be the only one who sees. It won’t last forever. More and more people will realize what’s happening and come over to stand next to me. I made a mental note to talk to our girls about this when I get back. I want to raise them to be willing to stand in the gap between the aisle. Not as a moderate trying to appease both sides, but as a lone tree ready to withstand the storm and do what is right, even if it means standing alone.
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Heard It Through The Grapevine:
Reagan Reese shares her thoughts on the first press briefing with President Trump’s new White House Press Secretary, Katie Zacharia, who spoke for just 14 minutes. 14 Minutes at the Podium
Amber Duke writes about Apple’s latest ad, which highlights the future as the tech world sees it. It’s dystopian. We should be doing everything we can to prevent it from happening. THE FUTURE IS CUCKED
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