Appifiany, things are
On September 27th, 2025, 7:00am, I gave up. Not in so much as “giving up” is concerned, but coming upon the realization that things are. I’ve had a lot of trouble finding peace within Washington D.C., since it is more of a merchant prison than a cityscape. The tolls, parking fees, psychic tax (the constant transactional scanning and predatory opportunistic glances from others when trying to simply take a walk), physical threat assessments (lots of shady characters out here), 10% sales tax on everything, car tax (on debt), etc…
When I lived in New Mexico, fresh air and peace were a given. In Washington D.C., it constantly smells bad, there are infinite waves of traffic, and the people are a mixture of desperate, machiavellian, and overtly aggressive. However, in time, I realized that these things simply were. Meaning that they would not change today, tomorrow, or even ten years from now. That it was the fabric of the city, no different than the fact that spacetime is the fabric of the universe. Gravity is, you can jump to negate it, throw a tantrum when tripping up the stairs, or curse it when a dish hits the floor. Nevertheless, such acts of rebellion change nothing. Gravity is, and it will remain, just as the smog over the bridge will remain each and every time I cross into Maryland.
I do not know why I came upon this realization, but I most certainly did. I’d like to think that I am better for it; however, the reality is that the world did not change, I changed. Through this change, I no longer react to the weather of life. Drunk drivers, the yellers of the street, angry coworkers, posers walking their dogs; these things are. They pass away like rain, before returning anew in a glossier temporal form. Persistent, empty illusions within a mind made yet more flexible than the day past.
I see Washington D.C. nowadays as more of a dojo. A training ground for practicing, “the way.” An excellent ground for testing the spirit. Washington asks, who are you really? The sage says, “I am.” Then the fees come, the tire blows out, the man yells;
Can you maintain your stillness within the river of life, or will the current carry you away?
Hello! We’re D.J. Hoskins
We are Davena and Jason Hoskins, co-authors of 30+ books and siblings who write under the pseudonym D.J. Hoskins. Three years apart and in our twenties, we have been fascinated by stories from a young age. Davena is a student attending Princeton University, and Jason attends Georgetown University.
