On Fire

I’ve needed to work my way through this political moment in our country, and writing is what is helping me to do that. Going forward my focus will not zoom in on politics. I will return instead to what is always at the heart of my message, which is to connect who we are in our soul with how we live in the world—which when you think about it is about as political as it gets.

I hope you’ll stick with me. Thank you for helping me navigate this week by your presence here. I am deeply grateful.

The world is on fire.

As it always is.

The world is still beautiful.

As it always is.

~ Drew Jackson

We live in a small rural town where the risk of wildfire is high, which means that for several months of the year we are under a burn ban. Just recently after a few days of good, heavy rain, the burn ban was lifted. Fires have been burning throughout the valley as neighbors and logging operations have set off slash piles, but we hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

On Wednesday morning, November 6th, the day after the election, we weren’t quite sure what to do with ourselves having learned the outcome. Consuming more news, doom scrolling, and imagining the worst felt like adding fuel to our emotional fires. Time to set off the burn pile.

We’ve accumulated stuff all year and tossed it on a pile out in our field. Branches, brush that needed to be cleared, an old wooden dresser and a stool beyond repair, sensitive documents, and a little bit more of this and that. When we torched it off, fueled by a few dashes of gasoline, it burned fast and hot, quickly reducing the pile to a fraction of the size of the original. There was lots and lots and lots of smoke at first, obscuring the view on the other side of the pile. It felt a lot like the post-election world, obscured from view by the scorching hot flames that have been fanned in our country over the past decade. It was hard to imagine what lay on the other side of that political fire.

As the major flames burned themselves out, there was more smoke and less fire. As the pile continue to burn, the smoke became less dense making it is possible to see through it. Our flag, the one we fly every day, became visible although a bit distorted. It looked a lot like how America feels right now.

As the pile burned lower, we pushed any embers and still smoldering branches in towards the center, reducing the size of the pile a little bit at a time until it was nothing but a heap of glowing ashes that will take a few days to burn out.

The fire had burned hot and fast, consuming everything. The pile was gone and the air had cleared. It felt as if something had burned away for me too. Looking toward the house, our flag was still hanging there. No longer distorted but definitely tattered and a bit worse for the wear since we purchased it. The morning light was shining through her stars and stripes, and the sun a bright beacon in the distance. She reminded me that our country still stands, even if on different footing.

What is true of the burn pile is true of our lives. We’ve gotten ourselves to this moment in our shared history together. No one is exempt, which means that we all have things that are best taken to the burn pile, set aflame, and reduced to ashes.

America has always been an aspiration. A promise. Something to work toward, but never arrive at, because the work is never done.

Time to get to work.

Everything And Nothing

My first thought upon learning the results of the presidential election was that everything had changed. The outcome of this election will alter the course of our collective future, and will take us down a path different from the one if the outcome had gone the other way.

It was hard to know what to do this morning, but thankfully, as is our ritual every morning, we made our way to the front porch in the predawn darkness. We lit the candle, settled into our chairs, and pulled up the fleece blankets to ward off the chill of the morning and the one seeping into our hearts.

Sitting together in that familiar space, the one we return to morning after morning after morning, I felt a deep and profound sadness and I couldn’t stop crying.

Sitting together in that familiar space, the one we return to morning after morning after morning, I began to feel something else. An equally deep and inexplicable hope, and I couldn’t stop crying.

Sitting together in that familiar space, the one that we return to morning after morning after morning, as the sun hit the mountain it dawned on me that everything has changed, and nothing has changed.

As a result of this election everything has changed. What that will look like, try as I might, I can’t really know from where I sit, here on the porch.

As a result of this election I now have my part to play, which is doing all that I can to love, help, and heal the world within my reach. And in that, nothing has changed.

Waiting For America

As I write this it is 8:34am on Election Day, Tuesday, November 5, 2024. I needed to write something today that would help me tomorrow morning, and maybe help you too. At this point I’ve done all I can in support of the candidates I hope to elect, and of the issues I care deeply about. I’ve voted. I’ve encouraged others— friends, family, neighbors, and strangers—to vote. I’ve donated money and shared words and resources that have helped me along the way. I’ve prayed fiercely, not because I believe that God is in control of the outcome of this election, but because I believe that we are.

And now, we wait.

Waiting is active, not passive. It is a choice to stay in the here and now. To be present to what is true, even as what is true in this moment may be different from what is true just moments from now, until eventually the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth prevails.

Waiting is hard work. It’s not doing nothing. It’s doing everything to stay right here rather than jumping to what might be out there.

Waiting is trusting that the outcome will make itself known, and when it does that we will have our part to play.

Waiting is threshold work. It is the space between what has been and what will be, and is an integral part of bringing anything new into being. Such waiting is found in the rhythm of childbirth, the changing of the seasons, the cycles of the harvest, and the stillness before the sun rises to usher in a new day.

And, it is found in the continued creation of America, this fierce and fragile and fraught country that we love.

May we wait together in hope, in grace, in peace, and in love.

And when the waiting is over, may we the people turn toward one another and get to work.

Election Day Angels

At my first wellness visit after the 2016 election the intake nurse was going through that list of questions that are meant to uncover any red flags. One such question was “Have you ever had more than 6 alcoholic drinks in one day?” Yes, I replied without hesitation. She was instantly suspicious, ready to register her concern in my chart notes. It was the night of the 2016 election, I explained. She heaved a sigh of relief and laughed. That doesn’t count, she said.

Today is Election Day 2024.

It can be hard to know what to do on a day like this. There are lots of options for sure. Doom scroll. Throw shade on “all those idiots” on the other side. Ghost friends and family who see it differently than you do. Pretend it’s a day just like any other. Binge watch your go-to escape series. Pray fervently for “our” side to win. Drink yourself under the table. Research property in Costa Rica in case things don’t go your way.

Like I said, it can be hard to know what to do on a day like today.

Let me tell you about something happening in our neck of the woods that has implications far beyond today, this election, and the next four years. My husband Tom (a progressive) and our brother-in-law Bob (a conservative) are both members of Braver Angels.

If you aren’t familiar with them, there couldn’t be a better day to learn about this organization and their mission. As stated on their website:

Braver Angels is leading the nation’s largest cross-partisan, volunteer-led movement to bridge the partisan divide for the good of our democratic republic. As we head into the election, we’re bringing together “We the People” to find a hopeful alternative to toxic politics. The American Hope campaign is equipping Americans across the political spectrum to work together and demand the same of politicians from both parties.

Today, on Election Day 2024, Bob and Tom are meeting at the local drop box in town around lunchtime. Bob will be wearing his red Braver Angels hat, and Tom donning his blue one. They will be there, together, side-by-side, to thank their fellow citizens for voting, and to share with anyone interested why they believe in the mission of this organization. One issue upon which they both strongly agree is that civil political discourse is not only possible, but imperative for the good of this country we all hold dear.

Maybe it’s not so hard to know what to do on a day like this if we each call upon not only the better angels of our nature, but the braver ones as well.

Written with gratitude for Bob and Tom and all the Braver Angels who are shining a light on a better path forward.

How We Got Here

Tomorrow is election day.

I’ve filled out and mailed my ballot, and like most of my fellow Americans, I am anxiously awaiting the outcome, knowing that it might get even uglier than it’s been before it’s all over. And like most of my fellow Americans, I can see that the divisions in our country run deep and wide, and seem to only be getting deeper and wider.

How did we get here?

However it happened, we got here together.

Whether through blaming the other side, fighting against what we don’t want rather than working for what we do, listening to and reading only that which will confirm our own views rather than listening to and reading about the views of those who see it differently, or allowing fear to hold us back rather than letting courage urge us forward, we’ve arrived here together.

How did we get here?

However it happened, we got here together.

Whether by tuning out, turning it over to others to figure out, or not exercising our sacred right to vote because the choices feel too complicated or we don’t like the options, we’ve arrived here together.

How did we get here?

However it happened, we got here together

We are, each and every one of us, responsible in some way for the state of our union. I am, you are, we are, they are.

How did we get here?

That’s the question, and one we all need to take seriously. Let’s look in the mirror and deep into our own souls, and tell ourselves the truth about what we’ve done to create such a deeply divided country when the great majority of us want it to be anything but.

If I want the state of our union to be different, to be one that brings us together and works for the good of the many and not the few, if I want a government that is of, by, and for the people, then I have to choose and speak and act accordingly. And so do you, and so do we, and so do they.

How will we get there?

However it happens, we’ll get there together.

.

Getting Our Act Together

I don’t write about politics, and I’m not about to start.

Except to say this…

We the people have got to get our act together.

I live in a small rural town, and I’ve come to see political yard signs as one more way to divide us rather than inspire us to become curious about our neighbor’s perspective. If I actually did put one up for this upcoming election, I suspect mine would be in the minority of those displayed in the beautiful valley that I share with my goodhearted, and like me, patriotic neighbors. Rather than sparking curiosity, I worry that it would only further fan the flames of division that are threatening the country that we the people all love.

The truth is, it has become scary as hell to bring up anything political (with anyone other than those who “agree” with us). With family who lean in a different direction than we do. With friends who cast their sacred votes differently than we do for reasons that make good sense to them just as ours do to us. With our neighbors who identify with a different political party than we do. With colleagues upon whom we depend for a job well done, but don’t dare broach certain subjects around the metaphorical water cooler. With the stranger in line at the grocery store who, nevertheless, is a fellow citizen of this country that we the people all love.

But if we the people are going to get our act together, then it’s time that we the people put on our big boy/girl/however-you-identify pants, and start talking with each other. But because it’s scary, because it feels like a bridge too far, we don’t do it.

But what if we did, and where could we start?

How about with one simple question…

How are you feeling about this election?

It’s a question that doesn’t demand to know what party we identify with.

How are you feeling about this election?

It’s a question that doesn’t demand to know who we are going to vote for and why.

How are you feeling about this election?

It’s a question that doesn’t demand to know who we blame for the mess we’re in, or to whom we attribute the progress we have or haven’t made.

How are you feeling about this election?

It’s a question that invites us to get out of our ideological heads and into our human hearts. It’s a question to which there is no wrong answer, just my answer, your answer, their answer, all of which are true, and many of which I suspect are the same, even if for different reasons.

Almost all fruitful endeavors, conversations, inventions, solutions, and relationships begin with and are sustained by good questions. Which, when asked and received with a sense of curiosity and grace, can lead to the next question. And the next and the next, and the next, until before we know it, we’ve found ourselves on some common ground, even if only a sliver. And a sliver is a place to start.

For any of us who watched one of the conventions, we were challenged to stop complaining and “do something”. If we the people are going to get our act together, maybe it starts with each of us doing something that connects us rather than divides us. Like talking with each other.

So, how are you feeling about this election?

I’m so terrified that you asked, but here goes.

I’m feeling hopeful, optimistic, scared, and yes, joyful.

Hmm. Tell me more about that. and why you’re feeling that way.

I’m a little less scared and a tiny bit more glad that you asked.

I’m hopeful that it will lead us forward. That it might pave the way for us to address the very real challenges that we the people face, and that our children and grandchildren will face after we’re gone.

I’m optimistic that it will embolden anyone who feels that their party has been stolen from them to take ownership of it again, because everyone is needed for we the people to get our collective act together.

I’m scared that too many of us will choose party over country, vote against someone rather than for something, do nothing out of despair that their vote doesn’t matter or in protest against an imperfect system, rather than exercising their right to vote in order to perfect our union just a little bit more.

And, yes, I’m feeling joyful that we might actually have a chance to bring a lot of us, from both sides of the aisle, a bit closer together, which is where the shit we all care about actually gets done.

So, how are you feeling about this election?