…phone calls, door knocks, contributions to ActBlue. All that excitement and hope, especially from we women, again thrillingly imagining a woman in the White House at last. Surely it will happen this time, we said to each other as we sat each Tuesday and Thursday at tables in a local inn, addressing thousands of postcards to newly registered voters in swing states.
My favorite was this one: A president is a public servant. Donald Trump is running for election to enrich himself, avoid jail time and seek retribution on his enemies. Vote for Harris/Walz on November 5. They know their duty is to the American people and not themselves. Thanks for voting!
And now all those predictions will come to pass, after the cataclysm of November 5.
We’ll be led by a ship of fools--cruel, cunning, and inhumane fools, who, when and if they figure out how to actually govern and not just break things, will basically take from the poor to support the rich--I read recently that there is much talk of severely limiting Medicaid to help limit the budget destruction the Trump tax cuts will cause.
I’m sure more cuts to programs that help our poorest citizens survive will come, thanks to the evil that Musk and Ramaswamy will be able to accomplish (see Project 2025). How the poor and even middle class will suffer--the people who voted for him. I suppose many may come to regret their votes, but I take no pleasure in their probable distress.
Right after the election, a friend wrote me this: Trump accomplished what even Hitler could not do. Take complete control of a government in a free and fair election. Our future depends on what adults he assembles around him. Many worries there.
Yes, and now as we are finding out who those adults are, fear is ascendant in many of our hearts.
These words of mine came up as a memory on Facebook shortly after the election, as I was making plans to fly to DC for the amazing and inspiring Women’s March after the 2017 inauguration:
My despair continues. I am searching for a way to channel it, to find actions that will make me feel I am doing something positive to combat the revulsion and profound anxiety that I feel in the face of this daily assault of unthinkable reality. Seeing that man in the high leather chair that belongs to a statesman, in a room he has no right to inhabit, makes me cry once again, drown in grief and horror and rage. But before action, I know I need time and space to mourn what feels now, lost forever. I've been a liberal democrat since high school in the late 50's--a passion for social justice, the women's movement, the call to reach out to the world from my place of white privilege, is in the marrow of my bones. Perhaps I will never get over it--grief is a trickster, it comes in waves and grabs us when we don't expect it; a condition I know all too well. It commands respect, demands we listen to it. I am trying. But meanwhile, I refuse to accept what is becoming the normalization of Trump's new position in the world. "Well, maybe it's not so bad." "We must all come together." I say no, not now, not yet, perhaps never. What is happening is not "normal," it is perverted, twisted, a blow to the spirit, the soul. Another America has risen from behind a fog to capture the flag of our country. It demands we see it, hear it. What it has to say will shape the future in ways we cannot imagine.
How those words resonate now. What’s different though, is that we’ve had eight years of this dreadful man being in our face every day, normalized as a candidate, as a person- we’re too used to him and his horror show.
As the Germans got used to Hitler. As they perhaps learned to keep their eyes closed as he created more and more atrocities against “the other.”
It just sounds too familiar.
I am thankful to my wonderful yoga teacher Sarah Getz, who taught me how to breathe, or I’d still be hyperventilating.
Breathing deeply helps. Meditation helps. Long walks with my black lab help. Connecting with other like-minded friends helps. Distractions are necessary as are writing and reading- (I recommend “Lovely One” by Ketanji Brown Jackson, an inspiring memoir by our newest Supreme Court justice). Staying away from the news would help if I did it, but I read the NYT and all the other liberal press, sometimes reluctantly, sometimes voraciously. I just read that Gaetz withdrew, but it’s possible, yes probable, to get someone worse I suppose. And there are so many other purely dreadful, frightening candidates for posts in Trump’s wrecking-ball government-to-be.
I had hoped to be writing this blog post about two wonderful, nourishing reunions I attended just before the election. The first was what I’d decided would be my “swan song” after thirty-four years of leading women’s writing retreats both in my home in Lakeville, and in Block Island and other beautiful places. Still struggling with my vestibular neuronitis and its dizzy attacks and energy-crushing debilitation, I was buoyed as always by the brilliant writing and sustaining energy of the women who came, some of whom had been with me for many of those years. Their gift of a photo album full of history and gratitude brought me to tears. Though I will dearly miss all the participants who came to my weekend, all-day groups, and ten-session series over the years, I knew deeply that it was time to move on from that work and attend more to my own life and writing.
I unpacked my books and notebooks, loose comfortable clothing, leftover food, candles, and that precious photo album, only to pull out a bigger suitcase to hold the more dressed-up outfits I’d wear in Washington DC, where my sixtieth college reunion was to happen. I flew down the next day, and how good it was to be with my college classmates of so long ago. Over forty of us came, and in addition to dinners and breakfasts with friends as well as other planned festivities and “The Conversation” mostly about aging and all it means, I especially enjoyed the Friday forum, “Democracy on the Ballot,” featuring many excellent speakers, among them Jennifer Rubin of the Washington Post, and our own Nancy Pelosi ’62, two years ahead of us. We left the forum and the whole reunion feeling optimistic about the outcome of the election. Nancy sounded so sure we would win, saying “Hakeem Jeffries will be the Speaker of the House.”
Well, we know how that went. At least, small comfort, it’s close in the House. Maybe a few of those spineless Republicans will grow one and stand up for sanity.
Maybe.
I imagine many of you are as tired of reading all the doom articles about the election and its devastating consequences as I am.
So, I’ll end. Enough. But let me offer some words I received the other day, by an exceptional teacher of the Buddhist dharma (teaching of the Buddha), Jack Kornfield:
When times are uncertain, difficult, fearful, full of change,
they become the perfect place to deepen the practice of awakening.
After viewing the elections…. whatever your point of view,
Take time to quiet the mind and tend to the heart.
Then go out and look at the sky.
Remember vastness, there are seasons to all things,
gain and loss, praise and blame, expansion, and contraction.
Learn from the trees.
Practice equanimity and steadiness.
Remember the timeless Dharma amidst it all.
Think of the best of human goodness.
Let yourself become a beacon of integrity, with your thoughts, words, and deeds.
Integrity in speech and action, virtue and non-harming bring blessings.
Remember the Noble truths, no matter the politics or the season:
Greed, hatred, and ignorance cause suffering. Let them go.
Love, generosity and wisdom bring the end of suffering. Foster them.
Remember the Buddha’s counsel,
“Hatred never ends by hatred but by love alone is healed.
This is the ancient and eternal law.”
The human heart has freedom in itself to choose love, dignity, and respect.
In every circumstance, embody respect and cultivate compassion for all.
Let yourself become a beacon of Dharma.
Amidst the changes, shine with courage and trust.
Love people and
This is your world. Plant seeds of goodness
and water them everywhere.
Then blessings will grow for yourself and for all.
Balance. Remembering impermanence, hard as it is. Not going down rabbit holes of despair, but trying to see all this in a bigger context, as Jack suggests.
I need words like his, to take them in.
With love, and hope for peace in our hearts, and someday, in the world,
Sharon