Wednesday morning, early, I passed a congregant at the gym. “Are you buoyed, Bill? Are you buoyed, at least a little?” Another friend used that term later in the morning: “I’m feeling buoyed.”
Buoyed. Held up. Floating. Light of Spirit.
Tuesday’s election offered many reasons to celebrate, especially here in Oregon: movement toward affordable housing, the protection of our ‘sanctuary’ status, the Portland Clean Energy Initiative, the progressive candidates elected. There were far more cheers than moans among the congregants that gathered at church Tuesday evening.
Across the nation, it was not a tsunami, but some balancing of power may well have been restored. Even gridlock would be a welcome improvement over the losses of the last two years. A few high profile contests preserved the status quo but by narrow margins. Almost 100 women, many young, most progressive, more than a few women of color, one out trans woman, one Native American woman will sit in Congress come January.
“Are you buoyed, Bill?”
The question, caught me up short. Because there are plenty of good reasons to celebrate. I had been preparing myself for an outcome much less to my liking. Perhaps you had been preparing yourself for that as well.
There are good reasons to celebrate but no opportunity to rest.
Within hours, the president demanded the resignation of the Attorney General, a reporter was silenced and banned from the White House, and the next mass shooting filled the morning news.
Protest gatherings are called for this afternoon.
There is not time to simply celebrate. That is one of the real challenges of these days. The rapidfire assault on our sensibilities and the demand for attention to tragedy after violation after offense does not make it easy to remain centered. It is easy to feel that we are out of control, just as our world seems to be.
Take time to remember what matters. Take time to visit that place within and those relationships that sustain you. That is my best advice as we live through events that seemed unimaginable not that long ago.
This morning, I remembered the conclusion of a poem by Anne Baxter entitled “When the Unimaginable Happened.”
“It will take time to find our balance,
to grieve, if we will make room.
Remember, friends, this is the right thing
this ache within our deepest beings.
Know that all these things are normal
To feel disrupted, empty or undone.
Our hearts broke open and the Love that is still true
draws us once again together, story by story, step by step,
into places of tender knowing, remembering
to restore us, mend us, piece by broken piece.
This is the Love that runs between us,
sustaining force of restoration,
the Love that nourishes and feeds us,
binds us, each, to our collective core.
We grieve…and march…and weep…and sing
and through the pain—but not despite it—
Love will repair us, not the same, but stronger in
Some places,
Honoring memories like treasures,
living out our lives’ potential
in the shadow of the trespass
in the warmth of one another
in the light of what, restored, we will become.”
Remember that love is there to buoy us, to center us and to hold us up, even in this week when there is both much to resist and much to celebrate.
Blessings,
Bill