I'm finding it incredibly difficult to sit down and work on a normal blog post today. (It wasn't even a possibility yesterday.) I feel like I have to address the elephant in the room (no pun intended). I am crushed and demoralized. I am looking for hope, and love, and community. I am inspired by several of my fellow bloggers, who published beautiful posts yesterday. Joanna Goddard wrote about coming together at Cup of Jo, and Erin Boyle wrote about what she will tell her children about this election and this era at Reading my Tea Leaves. My dear friend Valarie Kaur wrote about vowing to fight--with revolutionary love--in the coming years.
I can offer nothing more eloquent or useful than they have.
Now I begin to put one foot in front of the other, to keep breathing, to keep doing the work in the world that I am meant to do. I write this blog, I raise my children with love and compassion, I create community with friends and neighbors.
I ask you, dear readers: what brings you hope today? Where and how are you finding solace?
Tim says
My wife is American, so we have been going through this as well. We started with a walk in yesterday's amazing snow, and an evening dinner of American pancakes. Moving forward can wait a while, I think.
Jodi says
Yes, Tim, yes. I couldn't decide between "Trying to Move Forward" and "Moving Forward," and then I remembered Yoda.
Tim says
Haha - true! There is no try... And, of course, evil empires can always be beaten in the end.
Karin says
The only way I could sleep last night was to lie in bed and repeat to myself that I just want my parents to be OK -- I will be fine, whatever is thrown at us or taken away from us. I also have been thinking over and over about my young nephews and how at this point, teaching the next generation to be compassionate and inclusive is so paramount to undoing whatever might transpire in the coming years. Deeply disappointed, to the point my body is sore from anxiety, but trying to find joy in the small things, like a cool, blue sky on a fall morning, and the freedoms I currently enjoy.
Jodi says
Thank you for sharing this, Karin. I've been crying with neighbors and hugging friends and sharing articles that shed hope, not hate.
Alison says
I installed a quiet-close toilet seat. In the middle of the night, the sound of it closing can be so loud and startling. This makes no difference except to me and my tiny family, and maybe the company who made it.
But it felt good to do something, even something small and relatively insignificant, to improve my life, since the election is making so many other aspects terrible.
In the coming days, I look forward to finding what local organizations I can join to become politically active to help ensure that midterms are nice and liberal.
I feel both at a loss and that there is tremendous work to be done. But for now, just a bit of quiet will do.
Will you come back to the US?
Jodi says
We don't know, Alison, we really don't. Especially because my husband is a mixed-race immigrant to the US and my children are mixed race.