the choices we make...

and all the ways consequence will find us

keri kenney (she/her)

Nov 18, 2024

The choices we make.

Every single one of them,

Conscious and unconscious,

Personal and communal,

Thoughtful and thoughtless,

Every choice we make rebounds a degree of consequences,

Be it immediate as well as delayed,

Isolated as well as interconnected,

For all we choose, there is a contagion,

A catalyst,

A connection to all,

And a current that will ripple beyond time,

Intersecting in multiple and many trajectories.

Every choice we make matters.

And it also matters that we get to choose,

For it rekindles and connects us to our power,

And reminds us of what is possible through trust,

That we will make choices that align with our heart’s

As well as our greatest of intentions,

In every micro and macro decision we get to make and do.

And I wonder if we sat more with that,

If we imagined more of what the impact would be,

Bigger than the moment and even bigger than the single story of me,

I wonder if we would be more loving,

More discerning,

More accountable and caring,

For the choices we make,

And whether or not that will support us being free,

Authentic to you and authentic to me?

I wonder what the world would look like,

And how we each would be able to move in it,

If we all chose the choices where that could and can be?

I wonder…

I wonder so many things in so many ways, at so many times…
Just today, as I was on a walk with Ana and Mani, I found myself once again contemplating which route to take. My body continues to feel the aftereffects and shocks of the dog attack Mani and I experienced—and survived—just over a year ago. The imprint of that experience haunts me on every walk we go on, and the very real “what-ifs,” the “worst-case scenarios,” present themselves at every intersection, turn, and direction. I feel the trauma in my body, the reverberations of fear and uncertainty. I feel the choices, every one of them, and how they show up even when they aren't mine to make. How they intersect with my life, my safety, and the choices of others around me.
After the attack, we made an agreement with the other dog's human. I asked for something simple: a humane muzzle for her dog. It felt like the right thing, the compassionate thing—something that would ensure we could move forward in good faith, knowing that both dogs, both humans, could coexist safely in the same space. She agreed. And for a brief time, I felt relief. I thought we were on the same page, that we could trust one another, that safety would be prioritized.
But soon enough, that agreement dissolved. Just a few weeks later, I saw the other dog again, walking without the muzzle. The violation wasn’t just in the action; it was in the betrayal of trust. The trust I had extended, believing in the sincerity of her promise, was shattered. The compassion I had offered was met with disregard. And my heart broke, not just because of what could have happened, but because of the failure of a simple agreement, one that was supposed to protect us all.
The fear I carry now isn’t just the fear of an attack—it’s the fear of misplaced trust, of extending myself only to be let down. It’s the realization that my vulnerability, once again, has been used as a point of failure.
And yet, it’s not just the betrayal that lingers. It's the readiness that has come from it—the hyperawareness of my surroundings, of the choices that others make and how they affect me and mine. I am no longer naïve. I am alert. I am prepared, not because I want to be, but because I know too well the consequences of not being.
This readiness wasn’t there before. It came from the shock, the pain, and the lessons learned. I carry it with me now, with a prayer that this never happens again. Not to anyone, not to any dog, not to any child.
What I’ve learned yet again through this experience is that trauma doesn’t just sit in your mind. It lives in your body. It stays with you. Even when your mind forgets, your body remembers. My body is always calculating the risks, listening to every shift in the environment, feeling the tension in my muscles, the heightened alertness. It remembers the attack. It remembers the choices that were made that day, the ones I didn’t choose, and the ones I did.
And I see the parallel to the world we are living in now, especially with the choices we are being asked to reckon with since the election. Trump won. And now we must live with the consequences of that choice. The choice of his leadership, his words, his policies, and what they represent. For so many of us, it feels like a betrayal, a violation of our collective trust in what it means to lead with love, with integrity, with respect for humanity. And just as with the dog’s human, I must now reckon with the consequences of decisions made by others, decisions that I didn’t make but that affect me and mine nonetheless and how they’re alive in my body.
The heartbreak I feel now, knowing that so many of those around me—friends, family, community members—voted for him, is deep. What were the choices they made rooted in? Were they made with the longevity of our shared humanity in mind? Or were they made in the short-sighted interests of power, division, and fear?
How does one reconcile that heartbreak, that fracture, while still holding space for love, for connection, for repair? How do we understand the choices that hurt and still honor the humanity of those who made them? I know I cannot forget, yet I am unsure about my ability to forgive…
The weight of this moment reminds me that the power of choice is ours. It’s a responsibility we carry in every moment, both individually and collectively. And while we may feel the heartbreak of others' choices, we still have the power to choose how we respond. We can choose to love, to stay open, and to live in alignment with the very best of humanity. We can choose to carry our readiness into the future, prepared for challenges, but also hopeful for growth and transformation. We can choose the practice and prioritization of ourselves, community, and how we can best share and generate our strengths in the world, and in that choice, there is power, healing, and possibility - amplified by all.
We have to remember how powerful we are.
And to use that power with wisdom, readiness, and grace.
And I believe that we can - I believe that we are and that we must…
I carry this question now, just as I carry the lessons from the dog attack: How do we stay ready for the worst-case scenario, while also holding onto the hope for the best? How do we prepare for the pain, but still find the courage to keep our hearts and minds wide open to love? The choices we make, individually and collectively, matter. The stakes are high. But in this moment, I choose not to collapse into fear. I choose to remain open, to remain ready, and to remain faithful to the idea that love, humanity, and justice can still be the guiding force—even in the face of betrayal, even in the face of difficult choices, even in what can feel like disappointment and defeat. We can still find a way forward and through. Together, we shape humanity and create the story that is us - may it be one of Love - true and resilient Love.

With Great Purpose by Keri Kenney

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