We are on a bike camping trip late in the South Carolina fall and we meet Ranger Ann at the beautiful national park we are camping in. There is a winding wooden plank path through the swampy woods, trees dripping with Spanish moss. After we talk for a while, Ann tells us about the synchronized fireflies that hatch there every spring. We are wide-eyed at the prospect of a forest full of synced lights. But Ann doesn’t focus on that, she tells us how stupid people are and how she has to be a bitch (her word). “They come in here with their phones and bug spray—fireflies are bugs—it’ll kill them! Idiots!” She seems energized by her anger. She’s ready for battle against the “stupid people.” She forgets, it seems, that her job as a volunteer at the park is to help people, as well as to protect the fireflies.

Another trip, Jeff is backing the truck loaded with kayaks down to the dock. There is an older man standing in the middle of the road, watching his daughter fish nearby. She tries to pull him out of the way of the truck. “Watch out, Dad,” the daughter says, “He’s trying to back up.” “No. He’d better watch out for me!” the man says, as if the road were made for standing in. As if there were something to be angry about when someone backs a load of boats down the ramp toward the dock.

Politicians have built their campaigns on anger, and it’s catching. Everything “sucks” these days. According to advertisements I’ve seen on billboards and tv lately, everything from traffic to diaper rash sucks. It seems crude to me to use the sexually linked term for everything, especially baby products. Maybe I’m just old, but I’ve noticed this growing tolerance for aggressive language. People are angry, and it seems it is simply for the dopamine hit. They’re so sure that the world belongs only to them.

I’m tired of anger, and fear for that matter. My own and everyone else’s. After this election season, I find myself feeling more resolved than angry or afraid. I want to be dignified in my speech and my actions. I want to fight when I need to but with compassion rather than disdain. I don’t have the energy for fear and anger anymore. And I think that may be the key to getting through the next four years. I know what to expect, and I’m not surprised anymore. I will push forward with my own life, looking out for others when I can. I will paddle across the lake, watch the fireflies in sync, and look for the wonder in the world, instead of feeding off the darkness.