The Waiting Room

As previously posted on TinyLetter

Every waiting room is like purgatory. It feels damp, cold, and surely there is a flickering fluorescent light above. And every kind of waiting feels like purgatory, with the settings more or less an internalized state of mind. 

Right now, we are waiting. I dropped Declan off at daycare this morning and felt a sadness rush over me. My sweet boy has kept me grounded, safe – present – these past 24 hours, and as I said goodbye, I was also saying goodbye to that feeling. I have managed to avoid the news, social media, all election coverage, and tried to remain calm. As always, the body knows; the mind does not forget. While I am usually a pro at disregarding it, I let my sadness envelop me in the car.

How does it feel like these past four years have not changed, woken up, shaken people to see we have been led so far astray? There is something so callous about that. 

I cannot help but think of first-time voters, mostly those who are young and impressionable. I still remember being 18 during the 2008 election and feeling so disenchanted. So much so that I didn’t vote in 2012 … a regret I cannot kick. Here’s the thing, though: the desire to even feel disillusioned is a privilege. No matter what happens at the end of this, some of us are waking up to a 2016 America and others are still waking up to a 1960 and earlier America. Many of us recognized something was terribly off after 2016, while others always knew.

I think we need to lament, cry, and be angry at what we continue to see. That’s an important, necessary step in this process of grief. Nonetheless, we cannot let the results make us feel any less inclined to continue the hard work of advocating, loving our neighbor as ourselves, and – in the most non-violent way possible – kicking ass.

In closing, these past few weeks, I have been thinking A LOT about Senator John Lewis. His entire life was dedicated to a non-violent protest for Black and Brown communities. Something he said in an interview with Krista Trippett was so important: keep making eye contact.

“We did go through the motion, the drama, of saying that if someone kick you, spit on you, pull you off the lunch counter stool, continue to make eye contact. Continue to give the impression, yes, you may beat me, but I’m human.”

“… but I’m human.” Keep on being human, my friends. The eye contact and recognition to honor our own divinity and the divinity of others (the meaning of namaste!) will keep us rooted.
 

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Namaste & Kamala Vibes
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