Almost a year ago I published “Once in a While a Protest Post.” How foolish the idea of a single or infrequent protest seems now, as America unravels at a pace rivaling the melting of Antarctica.
The undoing of democracy some say but I suspect we are discovering what democracy demands and how we have fallen so short for so long. Day-to-day distraction upon distraction or as a friend put it, “divert and divide.”
What we want is ground beneath our feet, a canon to mold, even rail against, but always able to reinvent, a way to be certain in an impermanent existence. But we are groundless. Always have been. How else, democracy.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
Some would call this “la la land” and they would not be wrong but would they be right? Here, wrong and right labels are cast aside for none. Labels are exclusive and self-righteous, magnets for generalizations and feel-good memes, fitting the chosen few.
Where we meet is where we accept each other, knowing we have only our kind of love to give, just as wrong as we are right. This is not a field of happy endings but beginnings, a lot of start and stop without the drama of divert and divide.
I wonder whether we still know how to have this kind of conversation. It is what remains to us, pulling off our labels, leaving us vulnerable to the depths of our sadness, common to both wrong and right.
Almost sounds like revolution. Maybe it is. To live with an open heart is hard but to keep it closed is never to know all that is available. No open heart ever comes with conditions.
Social media churns up the worst and best of us–it’s the conversation of the 21st century–a turn of phrase goes viral, blinding in its momentary brilliance but waxing and waning like the moon, always a mere reflection of the sun.
Global change at the speed of light, a web to hold the human heart and we, its weaver.