Nothing

My whole life, I have turned to language to sort through the chaos of existence, believed in analytic thought, storytelling and poetry to shine the light of understanding, the warmth of comfort and solace, the fire of inspiration and needed action. There are no words to help me through this.

 

Likewise, I’ve turned to songs and music of all sorts to do the same and almost always find the right ones for the occasion. There are no notes to carry me through this. 

 

I’ve walked out into the woods, parks, forests, mountains, seashores to feel the solace of nature, the way the birds sing and trees wave in the breeze and the rivers run wholly oblivious to the human drama, enduring throughout all our foibles and disasters. There are no beautiful waterfalls that can bring me no comfort now. 

 

I’ve known the power of gathering with beautiful souls to remind each other that we are united in our love for life and together can bring forth the needed changes. Now I am curled up in my house, refusing to join with others knowing that we will only sit together in great despair and disbelief. For the moment, at least, there are no meetings with friends that will help me feel better. 

 

Like all of us, I have known all those things that stop us in our tracks and make us feel that we simply can’t go on as before. The loss of parents and friends, the deep betrayals in a relationship or a workplace, the blows (or news of blows) of natural disasters. And I, like I suspect most of us, always find the way to go on and keep moving forward, to grieve as I must and to rise up again to joy. 

 

But notice. The loss of aged parents is the natural order of things. Sad and sorrowful, but part of the contract we sign by being born. The loss of friends gone too young is harder to accept, but still within the natural order of random sickness and disease. The human betrayals and deep disappointments are built-in to the complexity of our human nature and while so painful in the moment, often open doors to better—or at least different—worlds. The natural disasters are both natural and disastrous and cause for much concern and cause of untold suffering. But again, part of the deal of inhabiting the planet. Even the wars and the dropping bombs have a long history and can be at least partially understood in our flawed ideologies, scramble for territory and mad dictators. 

 

But this is beyond my understanding and my ability to accept. A disaster of tsunamic proportions, a betrayal of our nation’s founding doctrine, a metaphorical death of much that we hold dear and certain death for those bound by the new laws to come. And what I find impossible to understand, accept, figure out how to get through, is the extraordinary fact that all of it could have been avoided peacefully by a simple piece of paper dropped in a ballot box. 

 

That so many would vote for a twice-impeached, 42-felony-convicted, wife-cheater, Bible-faker, cruel to his enemies and so-called friends, proven incompetent leader, psychopathic narcissist lying scumbag, too-old-to-run-for-office, incoherent babbler without a single political plan to benefit the nation— this surpasses all understanding. This is what has thrown me—and over half the nation—to the ground wondering how we can wake up to all the tomorrows of the next 4 years and live anything approaching a useful and happy life. 

 

I— we— am so tired of all the political or psychological or sociological analysis of why this happened, so tired of playing the next four years of the game on defense against a team who doesn’t play fairly or respect the game, so tired of making fun of them all with no effect (sorry, Stephen Colbert—I’ll see you in 2028 if you’re still on the air). None of this should have happened. It simply is beyond human understanding. 

And I’m not just talking to the guy who I was so ready to have kicked out of the game. I’m talking to every one of your freakin’ voters who made this happen. I am ashamed to share the same citizenship as you. Hell, I’m ashamed to share the same species as you. 

 

But here we are. Anger, reason, understanding, won’t help. Staying in bed, turning off the news, watching endless TV, pretending it doesn’t matter, won’t help. Grieving and feeling the full impact of the sorrow won’t help. Listening to the pep talks about how our souls are called upon to grow larger won’t help. Knowing that at least half the nation shares my sorrow, outrage and dismay won’t help. Calling for a now more perfect union by succeeding won’t (but might!) help. Changing our nation’s name to the D.SA.—Disunited States of America—won’t help.  The bottom line is that this never should have happened. I never believed it would have. And it did. 

 

Of course, somewhere deep inside I do believe against all evidence that we will rise again. But I can’t touch that hope or even locate it. And as the saying goes, “Every time history repeats itself, the price goes up.”

 

It is one of those rare moments that I am simply at a loss. Everything that is joyful in my personal life— and there is so much— is unreachable and will be for quite some time. Cooking a good meal? Releasing my new podcast? Playing music better than I ever have? Publishing the two new books I have lying around? Going to the national conference in a freakin’ red state? All of it smeared with shit. Why bother? Who cares? Why even try anymore?

 

There’s a black folk song called “The Grey Goose” that talks about people (white slavemasters) who shot it down and tried to cook it, but the fork wouldn’t stick it. They put it in the sawmill and it broke the saw’s teeth out. At the end of the song, it was flying in the sky again with a long string of goslings. So I wrote in my journal yesterday: 

 

“Even if the unimaginable happens (I didn’t really believe it would), we would do well to remember the Grey Goose spirit inside of us that can’t be touched by external events. We can still fly high with the goslings behind us. But it will make a difference as to whether we’re flying over verdant gardens, clear-running stream, restored rainforests or over fracked lands, strip-malled towns, polluted oceans. The Soul is at once independent of politics and completely intertwined with it. May we move together tomorrow.”

 

And when we found out today, we didn’t, I fell from the sky. If I stay crashed and broken, then they win, so I know I’ll need to find my way back to healing, with a little help from my friends. But I’m just oh, so tired, of evoking “We shall overcome” when it was all right at our fingertips. 

 

That’s my report, friends. That’s where I am. Lost, sad and weary.