Some mornings, I awaken and almost immediately find myself weighed down with anxiety.

The heat wave is upon us, the U.S. is now heavily involved in hostilities with Iran, of all places, and a presidential administration that seems bent on ending America and doing its part to render the planet uninhabitable seems to have gained a foothold in Washington.

We can’t just weather the heat like we used to, can’t have a “normal” summer heat wave without chalking it up to climate change and hateful foot-dragging. Anymore, there’s the additional worry that what we’re all witnessing is the result of years of both unwitting and intentional abuse, special interests pushing their weight around, and politicians beholden to donors who don’t give a rat’s ass about much beyond profit margins and getting their way.

Donald Trump thrives on unpredictability, claims it as a superpower, even though most of us know he’s just an overmatched blowhard who thrives on ignorance and serves at the whim of monied, self-interested fascists.

I find myself thinking that there really has never been a time when we could afford to live guilt-free in some sort of legitimate state of bliss. There always seems to be something to worry about, always a reason to be wary of intent, of people concerned with their own survival, to the exclusion of everyone else.

Trump orders us involved in bombing Iran. What is it that he wants us to stop paying attention to at home?

And Pakistan has nominated or intends to nominate him for a Nobel Peace Prize? If that happens, I will lose all faith in humanity.

Have we ever seen such amateurism in high office?

Trump is just a gossip girl who feels cool knowing that he’s got a scoop or two, possesses privileged information, resides in the inner circle of secret keeping, and he just can’t help himself. He likes toying with the public, boasting about knowing something most of us aren’t privy to, playing it like a reality TV show instead of considering his position and just keeping his mouth shut.

It might make one want to shout, “Grow up!,” but it’s probably too late for that.

How much damage has religious faith wrought on the world?

Besides being the height of irony, it’s also the saddest of commentaries—that bodies of belief with moral codes of conduct are also responsible for so much mayhem and ugliness and cruelty and endless vindictiveness, motivated by the central tenet of fearing a God who engenders dogmatism and orthodoxy, resulting in a bunch of us running around with our hair on fire and worried about displeasing a fickle deity who may or may not even exist.

Religious texts are commandeered for political purposes, shallowly embraced, conveniently and subjectively interpreted and utilized, and misunderstood. What would be different about the whole enterprise if scripture was freshly written today and a new story was told? There would likely still be gaps in witness and understanding, differences and varying contexts that lead to violence, because humans haven’t evolved all that much when it comes to self-preservation and the need to defend territory and opinions.

And maybe a new story couldn’t be told anyway, because enlightenment of a sort has come, and people wouldn’t fall for a story that conveniently fills any remaining gaps in understanding and knowledge, and sounds too good to be true.