It’s a morning of mourning. Today, I feel less anger and more hurt. The election has left me grappling with a heavy sense of loss, and the words of The New York Times capture the gravity of this moment:

“Four years after being impeached for his role in a violent attack on Congress, five months after being convicted of a felony in New York…Trump will begin preparing his return to the White House.” (Leonhardt, 2024)

Reading this, I can’t help but feel a mix of disbelief and heartbreak, especially seeing how this outcome affects my family.

This morning, my daughter texted me, asking, “Can y’all sponsor me buying like three Plan B’s…for anyone who may need it? I just… I can’t believe this right now. I am SCARED.” My hanai daughter expressed her own anger, admitting that now she’s reconsidering which colleges to apply to, fearful of how she might be treated for being brown or how right-wing policies might impact her life. And my wife reminded me, as she held back tears, that this is exactly what systemic racism and sexism look like: rich white men holding power. She fears for her parents, who practice Hinduism on the mainland, and the increased hate crimes they might face in this environment.

It’s exhausting to witness, and I’ll admit I tried to escape it for a while. On election night, I distracted myself by watching a binge-worthy show, only to be reminded of these issues in a painfully on-point way. In one scene, two main characters, a journalist and a woman in finance, discuss their experiences as women in a male-dominated world, confronting the dominance of powerful white men who make grave mistakes with far-reaching consequences yet suffer no repercussions. These men are promoted, celebrated, and rewarded for their failures, while women like them are left to work harder for recognition. The show even underscored this with a clip of Trump himself, a powerful reminder that this is the reality we’re living in.

The double standard is undeniable. On one hand, we have a wealthy white man who faces zero consequences for his actions; on the other, we have a racially and ethnically diverse Vice President who must not only be flawless in her credentials but also maintain an untarnished public image. If Trump were to interview with me for a position, I’d never hire him. Kamala Harris, however, represents resilience, hard work, and a commitment to a greater purpose. Trump, meanwhile, was out there hocking Chinese-made Bibles. It’s hard not to be frustrated by the absurdity.

And yet, as I often do, I found myself looking to nature for guidance. The plants I transplanted yesterday, the unexpected beauty of a Canna lily bloom, and, perhaps most significantly, a rainbow arching over the Honolulu skyline this morning brought me a sense of calm. Here in Hawai’i, rainbows are common, but they never lose their magic. Today’s rainbow stretched over construction cranes and even a garbage bin, seeming to land near the UH Mānoa student dorms. There, I realized, lies the true pot of gold: the youth. They are the ones we must focus on, the ones who will need support in processing and channeling their emotions productively in these challenging times.

Yet I still find myself wrestling with a larger question that goes beyond this election. How can we understand the rise of leaders like Trump? This shift isn’t confined to the United States. High-income countries like Australia, Britain, Germany, Italy, Japan, and now the U.S. have seen similar political shifts. Populism, nationalism, and war are on the rise. The era of stability my generation (Gen X) experienced from the 1970s through 2016 is ending. We are entering a new era marked by extremism, both politically and environmentally.

There will be mourning for those who remember times of relative stability. For younger generations, who now face an unprecedented era of instability, there will be a need for guidance and support.

It’s worth noting that this shift isn’t entirely new; it’s an echo from history. In ancient Mesopotamia, around 3,500 B.C.E., a stone tablet was unearthed, lamenting how politicians were corrupt, miracle cures were rampant, and society seemed doomed because the youth no longer followed the customs of their elders. Centuries later, the Greek philosopher Heraclitus would say that peace is “just tension balanced,” like a bow held in perfect equilibrium. The bow, like the rainbow, can symbolize tension as something life-giving, holding the balance of the rain (water and life) and the bow (tension and restraint).

The rainbow has its own history of symbolism. In Christian mythology, it represents God’s promise not to act out of anger, a reminder of the flood sent to cleanse the earth. But perhaps this promise is out of our hands now. The climate has already changed, and our human systems are growing increasingly extreme, mirroring the environmental upheaval around us. In cybernetics, this pattern is called a “runaway positive feedback loop,” where systems grow increasingly chaotic until they find a new balance or homeostasis. Eventually, both our societal structures and the natural world will settle, but the path there will be turbulent.

So we breathe. We remember that tides ebb and flow and that societies rise and fall. These are cycles woven into life itself. Right now, we’re in the midst of a significant tide change, and the currents are powerful. If you feel overwhelmed, find something to hold onto. And remember, it’s okay just to tread water for a while. You can even float, let the water carry you, and breathe until you find your strength again.

As Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us, “Because you are alive, everything is possible.” There’s a quiet strength in that thought. If we hold on to each other and stay connected, even through uncertainty, we can find our way through.