Singing gold

against a cerulean sky

Waking up to news I did not want to hear is the reality for millions of Americans, but unlike many of them I am a white woman in a red state and could easily fade into the background, covering my head under a blanket of privilege.

In a conversation with my 22-year-old daughter this morning, she made some incisive comments. She pointed out that entertainment and leadership have been melding over time and lead some people to idolize someone who appears to deliver on both. I wonder if perhaps those of her generation and slightly older seek leaders who inspire our basest instincts, the same ones that entice humans to watch soap operas and gawk at car wrecks. This sounds cynical and all you mid-20s readers can set me straight, if you like. I’m just seeking an explanation for why our country likes an autocrat.

As for my own privilege, I was counseled (by same daughter, she’s so wise) that in my ability to dodge some of the worst policies that are likely to come, I have agency. I don’t know what to do with it yet, but I’m left pondering this morning how I will contribute to some kind of healing. Anger isn’t the answer, I know that. Despair has its moment, but to do good in the world, I must overcome that as well.

And, she said, to find and support others in our community, we have to care for ourselves first, particularly if we are in a position of privilege. Nurture our own strength so we may turn it outward and do right on behalf of others.

Oversimplified and convenient though this posting may be, I don’t know how else to respond. I am seeking calm in order to prepare for the work ahead.

There is still good and beauty in the world, my daughter reminded me.

Yes, as I look through my picture window at the north hills in the wintry light, I see that the morning sun casts the hillside in fawn and shadow. A lone runner tacks across the front in an early jog. Crows gather on the power lines. The yard poplar sings golden against a cerulean sky.