Some mornings I wake up, make a cup of tea, glance at the news headlines and wonder if somebody accidentally handed control of the planet to a committee of sleep-deprived toddlers.
Every day seems to bring a fresh surprise. One minute we’re being told to worry about one thing, the next minute it’s something completely different. Experts disagree with experts, politicians disagree with politicians, and occasionally people disagree with themselves.
It’s enough to make you want to retreat to a quiet cabin in the woods and communicate exclusively with birds.
Yet somehow most of us keep going.
We still walk the dog. We still water the plants. We still help our neighbours, pay our bills, and remember to buy milk. We continue to celebrate birthdays, enjoy cups of coffee with friends, and laugh at silly memes on the internet.
In many ways, that’s quite remarkable.
The people in power often seem determined to create as much noise, drama, confusion and upheaval as possible. It’s almost as if they wake up each morning asking, “How can we make life just a little bit more complicated today?”
Then they exceed expectations.
But perhaps one of the quiet acts of rebellion available to ordinary people is refusing to surrender our sense of humour.
Humour doesn’t solve problems. It doesn’t balance budgets, negotiate treaties, or fix broken systems. What it does do is remind us that we are still human. It helps us keep things in perspective.
Sometimes all you can do is look at a situation and laugh.
Not because it’s funny.
Because the alternative is shouting at the television.
There is something wonderfully grounding about focusing on the small things that are within our control. Growing a tomato plant. Reading a book. Creating something with our hands. Taking a walk. Calling a friend. Patting a dog.
The world beyond our front door may occasionally resemble a circus, but that doesn’t mean we have to become part of the performance.
I’ve come to believe that optimism isn’t pretending everything is wonderful. It’s recognising that things are messy, imperfect and occasionally absurd, while choosing not to let that steal your joy.
The headlines will continue. The arguments will continue. The endless declarations of crisis, emergency and outrage will continue.
And meanwhile, ordinary people will continue doing extraordinary things: caring for family, helping strangers, making things, teaching children, growing gardens and finding reasons to smile.
Perhaps that’s why the world keeps turning despite the best efforts of those trying to steer it.
So here’s my plan.
Stay informed, but not consumed.
Stay engaged, but not enraged.
Keep a sense of humour.
And remember that if the people in charge appear to be making things up as they go along, there is a good chance they are.
Fortunately, most of us have years of experience dealing with chaos.
We call it life.