Yesterday was like a hangover. I had to send myself home early from work to sob my little heart out on the couch. At first, I cried because it didn't feel like I was happy enough that the right man won the election. That pesky problem with staying in the moment really challenged my ability to absorb the significance of the day. And my ego worked its way in there some, too.
In high school, I was deeply obsessed with everything sixties. Oh, how I longed to have come of age in that era so I could have participated in the social movements, been witness to the changes taking place. It didn't seem possible that I would ever live through anything as significant as what went down in the decade prior to my birth.
And then I started to witness some things:
- first voting experience in 1992, electing Clinton
- the fall of the Berlin Wall
- the Gulf War
- grunge and Kurt Cobain's death
- Nelson Mandela freed from prison, elected president of his nation
- two stolen elections
- 9/11
- wars in Iraq and Afghanistan
- hurricanes
- tsunamis
- genocide
- traveling abroad
- LIVE MUSIC
- marrying a true love
- nine, going on ten, nieces and nephews
- too many years of illness and the death of a sibling
- college graduation
- Barack Obama elected president
All of these things make up our lives. Yet, it wasn't enough for me. The progress of humanity wasn't fast enough for me. That sinking feeling that we're never going to get it right -- it's all been too little and too late -- pinned me to the couch in my personal despair.
It didn't feel like I thought it would feel when I was a teenager, this witnessing of momentous change in our country's -- hell, our world's -- history. My naive idealism had me thinking such a victory would heal the millions of hidden scratches just as surely as the obvious gaping wounds. When reality didn't match my imagination, I got sad and allowed my brain to concentrate on severe pessimism. How could I celebrate when we're still involved in two hopeless wars? What about over-population, global warming and the coming the machine people? How could I be happy about our president-elect when Californians actually passed Proposition 8 on the same day? What's my damned problem for letting myself miss out on the pure joy of this moment?
Then the television caught my attention. It was Martin Luther King, Jr., urgently reminding me of the bigger picture:
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
This slapped me in the face, sat me right up and cleared my eyes of the tears. All kinds of perspective came running through the door, tackling me with a swift kick in the ass. I had to laugh at myself for letting it go too far.
No matter how slow I think humans are changing our ridiculous ways, I have to admit that we are changing. We can only move one generation at a time, can't we? No matter how slow it feels while you live it one day at a time, we are inching our way towards tolerance and right action. No matter how much we want it to be perfect now, we can't reasonably expect all of our ignorance to end at one time in one place. If we do expect that, we're just going to end up a limp, crying mess on the couch. And, really, what does that do to help bring us together?
So, there I was. Age thirty-four being snapped out of a personal crisis of faith in humanity with the realization that I'm dangerously close to being a grumpy old man because I expected everything could be fixed within my own lifetime. Let's call it a moment of clarity. And humility. And, of course, perspective. Thank you MLK.
Today is one of the most beautiful that I've ever seen in Santa Barbara. It's bathwater warm outside. The air smells clean and crisp. The sky is the clearest blue. The sea is sparkling against the huge islands, which reflect their counterparts rising up proudly behind our bustling little city. Neighbors and strangers are greeting each other warmly, enthusiastically, with genuine appreciation for one another.
It's a new day, indeed; and here's what I know: we have got to work pretty damned hard on lightening up and love is the answer.
4 comments:
Interesting perspective and thought process. I think there was something that happened to or generation that we wanted to be adults in the 60s and 70s. Well, we're here! Be careful what you wish for, right?
We are living in insane, brutal, amazing, and wonderful time.
Today I was having a similar crisis of discouragement. And then I walked down the hallway at Antioch, looking at the black and white photos hanging there from the 60's.
A long line of black people marching, respectfully dressed, like for church in a white world, and at the head of the line one white man marched alongside his black partner down the middle of the street. It moved me, it reminded me what it all felt like at the time, the black-framed glasses, the pressed suits, the hate and the courage. The smell of fear. The unpredictability of how it would all turn out.
You light the way. I know you would be at the head of that line too, marching. What a heart!
You know that I was having the same difficulties accepting positive change. But the energy HAS shifted, and each time I see Obama speak: with intelligence, wisdom, thoughtfulness and reflection... I DO "lighten Up" aliitle inside.
I just read this again... and it might be your best writing yet. I have tears in my eyes.
Post a Comment