The politics of anger and revenge have dominated the airways in recent years. My passionate patriotic feelings – instilled by generations of my family’s great love and pride for this country – has been eroded. My sense of security and optimism for a better future has been diminished.
My hope was that my grandchildren would grow up in a world with more opportunity, freedom, cohesiveness and peace than ever before. As our leaders became less conciliatory, more tunneled vision, less tolerant and more fractured, those hopes have been kicked to the curb.
In the verdant abyss left, fear grew – not just for my physical safety, but for my freedom to live in a world that welcomed diversity and individual agency.
And guess what? For many years, my idealized vision was grounded in reality. I lived in a neighborhood where keeping every door locked all the time wasn’t a top priority.
For 20 years, I have lived on a busy corner. For 20 years, my double set of French front doors looking directly into my foyer were unadorned. My front door provided a clear visual into the contents of my front hall and the curved staircase behind it. Friends joked with me – cautioning me not to wear a sheer nightgown at night when bounding up and down my stairs – pointing out that I may not welcome that level of visibility to the world.
And one morning, after yet another terrorist attack on a Jewish house of worship, I woke up horrified at how openly and causally I had taken my safety and privacy for granted. That very morning, I ordered wooden blinds to cover the multiple panes of glass on my front doors.
But the true significance of my need to block visual access to my personal space speaks volumes about how my perception of the world and my place in it has altered in the last decades.
I was secure in my world.
I trusted that politicians would speak with careful consideration – knowing their words would have far-reaching and profound consequences.
I paid far more attention to what the scale registered each morning I stepped on it than what the top five news stories of that day were.
Why?
Because I trusted that our democracy was rock solid.
And when lunching with friends? We were much more likely to delve into what irritating remarks our mothers or mothers-in-law made to us in the past week or offer up the name of a reliable roofer to fix the leak in an upstairs bathroom someone at our table had just noticed that morning. The viability of our democracy was never a topic of conversation.
Why?
Because we trusted that our democracy was rock solid.
We truly believed that most politicians wanted their constituents to live in a society that was peaceful and functioning and respectful of laws and traditions.
We underestimated the corrosive power of people in power who revered disruption and fed on chaos.
Someone much more gifted with words than I am described our times “as dancing mindlessly on top of a soon to erupt volcano.”
And now?
As I begin to slowly digest the ramifications of our elections?
I feel:
- A quieting.
- A return to more solid ground
- A flatlining of anxiety
- A sensing – a delicate but determined sensing – of a spiritual awakening of something we have long been lacking: HOPE
I am cautious.
It can’t be hope laced with thoughts of revenge.
It can’t be hope fed by viciousness and a need to prove someone was right and someone was wrong.
Our new HOPE needs to be hope based on a strong belief that we are better and stronger together. We are truer to the ideals of our founding fathers when we are compassionate, empathic and receptive to the idea that together we can make this country once again a shining beacon of light.
I think back to my parenting days. What would I say to my four-year-old before a sand box play date with another four-year-old?
Make room for each other.
Take turns with the shovel.
Don’t throw sand.
Don’t knock down your playmate’s castle.
Use your words when you are upset.
If you hurt your playmate, say you’re sorry.
If you break something, help fix what you broke.
And always keep in mind that
you can even build something together
in the sand box.
What’s our political sandbox going to look like? I hope like this:
And who knows? Maybe one night I’ll even forget to twirl the wand that closes the blinds that shuts out the world when darkness descends.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
