choosing love over fear
“The world is violent and mercurial — it will have its way with you. We are saved only by love — love for each other and the love that we pour into the art we feel compelled to share: being a parent; being a writer; being a painter; being a friend. We live in a perpetually burning building, and what we must save from it, all the time, is love.” ~ Tennesee Williams
I wonder what would happen if we were all to commit ourselves, over these next months, to small gestures of love, healing, and reconciliation? Would the national mood of distrust and divisiveness change for the better?
What would happen if we took our cues from the graceful, forceful words spoken yesterday by Hillary Clinton and President Obama, both of whom encouraged all Americans to come together now, and to do whatever we can, wherever we are, to repair our torn social fabric?
What would happen if those of us who grieved the results of this election chose today, and in the days ahead, to transform that grief into renewed determination — determination to create a kinder, more tolerant country, one in which to be a citizen means to uphold our deepest national values of freedom and dignity and respect for all Americans?
What would happen if we, both as a people and as elected officials, chose a tack quite different from the obstructionism of the last eight years? What if, instead of predicting Donald Trump’s failure and then doing all we could to ensure it, we chose instead to take President Obama’s advice and to “root for his success”?
What if we were to stake out this territory as our first patch of common ground: a willingness, on both sides, to give our President-elect a chance, to walk alongside him, and to support each step he takes to make good on his election-eve promise to reunite the country?
Over the weekend, after posting a blog essay urging women who were considering sitting out the election to vote for Hillary Clinton, I received a number of comments from readers who told me I should not write about politics or even voice a political opinion. I posted all of them, the ones left here and those on Facebook as well, with the exception of one graphic and obscene insult. This morning, as I consider my own path forward, I’m also thinking about how to respond to those messages. There were long-time readers who canceled their subscriptions to my blog, done with me because I was voting differently. Others wrote to let me know I should keep my thoughts to myself, and some wrote to denounce Hillary Clinton as a criminal and to express shock that I would support her.
Politics is never going to be my beat. Frankly, I’d much rather share a beautiful photo from my daily walk, or words that capture the wonder of some seemingly insignificant moment, or a reflection about how hard it can be to surrender with grace to events not of our choosing.
My own daily life is my theme, with all its ups and downs, and I write about it here not because it’s “mine” but because, in the writing, I find a way to connect not only with my own better self, but with you. Together, we celebrate the goodness of all our ordinary lives and the things that really matter: gratitude, tenderness, acceptance, care.
I write as a way of addressing life’s inevitable challenges and transforming them, with quiet attention, from problems to be surmounted into opportunities for growth.
But there was no way to keep politics separate from life during these last difficult months. There was no way for me not to be affected and distressed by threats of violence, of walls to be erected and international agreements to be broken, of religious tests and mass deportations, and callous boasts about grabbing and assaulting women. I worry about any leader who dismisses climate change as a hoax or who wants sovereignty over women’s bodies or who views our country’s need for some sort of gun control as a conspiracy against Second Amendment rights. These are issues I care about. They do affect my life, as they do all our lives.
To me, to most Americans, it does indeed feel as if there is a great deal at stake in our country right now. That there are differences of opinion about how to solve some of these intractable problems is a given. What is not a given, however, is the manner in which we express and respond to these differences. We can choose to close our ears and our hearts to those who disagree with us. Or we can make an attempt to stand in someone else’s shoes and to see the world through another’s eyes. This is the definition of empathy.
Without apology or excuse, I do make a stand for empathy. And, whether you voted for Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton or another candidate on Tuesday, I invite anyone reading these words to join me. I would like to believe that “empathy” is a value we can all get behind. It’s a path we can travel together. I would like to believe that empathy could be our second patch of common ground. It is a choice each and every one of us can make as we go about our lives, as we interact with people who look different, who love different, who act different, who worship gods other than our own, who hold different views and who make different choices based on those views. Empathy isn’t about changing minds. Empathy is about opening hearts. It’s about choosing love over fear, moment to moment, word by word, deed by deed.
I wasn’t planning to write a blog post this morning. My breakfast dishes are still on the counter, I have work to do, and a bookstore reading tonight to prepare for. But when I opened my email a little while ago, I found one new comment on my blog from last week, from a woman who wanted space there to celebrate Donald Trump’s victory. I could have chosen not to approve it, but that didn’t feel like empathy to me. And so I posted it, and then I answered it. And one thing led to another. So here we are.
To those who said “stick to writing about parenting and family life,” I hear you. Those are subjects dear to my heart. But life is large and complex and the matters we must wrestle with aren’t easily kept in separate boxes. I do believe this, though: we’re all in it together. And there is room here for all of us. Love or fear?
moments of seeing: reflections from an ordinary life
Finished copies of Moments of Seeing are available and I’m excited to share it with you.
If you’d like to purchase a signed copy, click here. (Buy 4, and your shipping is free!)
READINGS:
New Hampshire friends, I’ll be at the lovely Water Street Bookstore in Exeter at 7 pm tonight, Nov. 10.
And on Sunday afternoon, Nov. 13, I return to my old hometown, Winchester, MA, to read at Book Ends.
For info about these and other events, click here.
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