Today, I sit in quietude—at last—amid the stacks of emotions, facts and questions that I’ve acquired since the U.S. election.
It’s quite a pile (and it’s still morphing) right along with the extraordinary amount of new information launched at me daily.
I know I’m not alone, I’ve watched people of every denomination, gender, colour and profession buffeted around in the chaotic winds right along with me. They’re right…no wait…they’re wrong…wait—am I wrong?!
This was my state of mind a few days ago—until somebody noticed a social media post I made with a time stamp of 11:11, and suggested I promptly make a wish.
Oooh… a wish?
A whisper of barely remembered, childlike delight tickled me softly, luring me into someplace different…where wishes are born and hope is warmed.
My wishes are always sourced from the love I have for my children—now both grown, but still and always the purest, fastest route to who I want to be, what I want to happen. I felt it, I saw it, I spoke it. And then I wrote it—to embed it safely, tenaciously into places that will never be forgotten, even when I’m drowning in everything I don’t ever want to be:
I imagine them. My entire everything.
My daughter, a wildly delicate, impossibly free spirit, wrestling injustice with her fiery fiery heart into helpless submission no matter how large or where it looms—
…and my son, the roots-deep-in-the-ground one, the one who calms with necessary logic, taming unruly energy running amok, shaping it into something usable—and always honourable.
…And I notice how vehemently I send them my summoned ripples of total unconditional love…layered up in joyful abundance and a bubble-gum-pink layer of titanium-strength, stretchy, bendy, breathable protection
for their hearts
I feel those ripples envelope and propel them into their future
…and then I see that future—a time so far from now we have almost forgotten how hard we had to fight for it.
Right now, right here.
…And I see us all gathered; there are grandchildren, and music, and pets, and noise, and playful pranks, and feasting
…and just…the joy of us being us, together.
…And I feel the contentment—pristinely—within this gorgeously imperfect, messy chaos.
…And I do not imagine this as a maybe, I imagine this as though looking back, already created, already lived—by insisting on it
in my daily doings
…And then, of their own volition, I watch those ripples undulate and grow, billowing up …and out…and into…and around…everyone, all of us, all of it.
…And I feel the familiar pull of insistence upon this, and then…
…and then that elusive, magical sense of how powerful we can be – when we direct ourselves, our circumstances, our love
That day, I began to see different things cropping up into my awareness. Likely that support was there the day before, and the day before that; I was far too enraptured with slogging around in my own disillusionment to notice.
Maybe it’s because I’m tired of wallowing in “How could this happen?” Or maybe it’s because somebody else is ready to write them now, I don’t know, but articles and resources that help me begin to make some sense of it all are beginning to appear just as I need them. There are people I love who are struggling—some share my fears, some have concerns that directly contradict mine.
This is our new reality. We’ve all seen layers unfurling, long-buried within loved ones, friends, co-workers, and neighbours—all revealing wounds we were completely unprepared to see.
The energy Trump has ignited is not in any context contained to America, nor is the response. People everywhere are trying to be heard above slurs being thrown at their moral fiber, all because they differ so widely on their personal concerns.
Some people are beginning to wear the rhetoric being flung at them with something akin to pride, as if everyone’s indignation has suddenly collided, igniting a burgeoning mushroom cloud of me-against-you energy.
I’ve been trapped there off and on for the last couple months as this election played out, but I finally found calm skies within that little wish.
No more than popping a pill or burying my head in the sand. I need to deal. I need to know, and I need to help. I can do none of that if I’m mired in righteous angst. It’s getting way too crowded in there anyway, and no one’s noticing they need to get out and take a bath. Just sayin’.
I cannot tell you how fresh, how crisp, how quenching the air is above that terrible, dark cloud—how restful it is.
Today I linger here—in a moment of relief, realizing that my intentions and desires remain unscathed, perhaps even strengthened by what has been testing them. Today I rest—finally able to remember that the how will reveal itself when I make room for it.
It’s a strange time, we can’t deny it. But as I write, President Obama is tying a Presidential Medal of Freedom on Ellen DeGeneres. My eyes well up with hers. My faith flutters, nudging me, reminding me we’ve lost nothing we can’t get back.
If you need some help with how to remember or strengthen your intentions, a few things that came up for me are linked below. Each helped—some in driblets, some in holy-hammer-on-the-head ways.
I particularly recommend the Abraham-Hicks link—it’s short, but will reset your focus with a laugh and gentle finger-wag in the ol’ attitude.
If you can add to them, please do so in the comments below.
Resources that May be of Benefit:
How Could You? 19 Questions to Ask Loved Ones Who Voted the Other Way
(mind the groundrules!)
Author: Karen Hubert
Editor: Caitlin Oriel