Today I breathe deeply and try to sit with my thoughts. I name them as they go by. Anger. Sadness. Dread. Anger again. Helplessness. Confusion. Despair.
Did I already mention anger?
I read Pema Chodron. She says, "We aspire to dissolve the myth that we are separate...Through our hopes and fears, our pleasures and pains, we are deeply connected."
I grieve the best way I know--I find a spare 10 minutes and take my camera to a nearby pond.
The sun is bright and warm. There are bare branches and curled leaves. There are also geese and ducks, a grandmother and grandson, a soft breeze.
It is hard not to feel defeated by the outcome of this election. There is so much work to do. The divide feels unbridgeable, the connections messy, painful and strained, like a tangle of barbed wire.
But I don't want to let fear or anger rob me of joy. I want to live today just like I lived yesterday: hopeful. Resolute. Determined to fight against discrimination and teach my children to treat everyone with kindness and respect--even if they don't agree with them.
I want to live today just like I lived yesterday: committed to taking off my armor. Accepting of impermanence. I want to have the courage to step over my ego into the space where real connection is possible. I want compassion to spread like ripples across the surface of a pond.
I want Anne Lamott to write something funny and savvy that will help me believe this is possible.
So for the rest of today I will stay close to the people I love. I will breathe in and out. I will read Anne Lamott as needed. And I will try to hold everything gently, with open palms.