Whispering Wyrd

I’ve always tried to keep this blog free of politics. That choice is intentional. We live in a world saturated with outrage, division, and headlines designed to keep us in a constant state of alarm. My writing has been meant to be a place of refuge from all that. A place to breathe, to reflect, to remember what it means to be human.

But there are moments when silence no longer feels like peace.

Over the past days, I’ve watched events unfold in Minnesota that have left me deeply shaken. A man named Alex Pretti lost his life in an incredibly disturbing violent way. Video footage, witness accounts, and official statements from federal authorities do not seem to line up. I’m not writing as an expert, a journalist, or an authority on what “really” happened. I’m writing as a human being who watched another human being die, and who felt something inside me say, this matters. This is too much.

Alex Pretti was an ICU nurse. Someone who spent his life caring for others in their most vulnerable moments. Whatever else may be argued, that is a fact that deserves to be mentioned and honored. A life like that is not abstract. It’s not a statistic. It is a story that now ends far too soon.

This is not about politics for me. It’s about the sacredness of life. It’s about power and accountability. It’s about the deep unease that arises when institutions meant to protect life appear to act without any transparency, and when explanations feel evasive rather than honest.

I don’t pretend to know all the facts, but I know what I saw. I do know how it felt to watch footage where a man lay dying while others stood by or counted bullet holes. I do know how it felt to see what looked like celebration in the aftermath of a killing (another agent clapping). And, I know that something in me, shaped by my faith, by my recovery, by my suffering, by compassion, could not just simply look away.

I want to say this clearly, questioning the use of force is not hatred. Asking for accountability is not extremism. Grieving a life lost is not disloyalty. These are human responses, not political ones.

I am also aware that some people I love see these events very differently. That reality is painful. But love does not require silence when conscience is stirred, and conscience does not require cruelty to be honest.

My Buddhist practice has taught me something simple yet difficult, to bear witness without turning away. To see suffering and not immediately harden into ideology or rage. To let grief speak before opinions do. To ask, gently but firmly, what kind of world we are becoming, and what kind of people we are choosing to be.

I am not calling for vengeance. I am not calling for choosing sides. I am calling for truth, restraint, and respect for human dignity. Values that don’t belong to any one party or belief system.

If that means I lose readers who are comfortable with violence or dismissiveness of human life, I accept that. This space was never meant to be comfortable at the cost of compassion. It was meant to be honest.

I still believe in peace. I still believe in refuge. But peace does not come from pretending that injustice doesn’t hurt us. Sometimes peace begins by saying, quietly and clearly, this is not okay.

May we remember that every life is sacred.
 May we resist becoming numb.
 May we choose humanity, even when it costs us something.

Amituofo
 ~Buck