Fight the Flight


  1. Feel cosmos as translucent ever-living presence.

I am going to write this post with vigor.  With intensity.  With an energy that may or may not fail me as the evening progresses.

Obviously, we have passed through to the day after.  I still feel sick about it, but I do also feel angry and sad and proud of my candidate and her supporters – support that is the will of the people, if not the will of the people’s broken-ass, outdated system.

We didn’t die in our sleep, even if some intangible part of us might have gone all cornflower and begun to dry up.  It’s awful.  It is so awful and the maybes and what might have beens and the investment of hope all flying back at us with a spray of acid for our trouble.

I saw my parents this morning.  They weren’t just recently crying or anything, but they were somber.  I started talking about my friends and felt as though I’d start sobbing in the driveway and I had to go to work.

But, you have to live, you know?  You can’t concede the goodness you can offer now to the people who are in fear and the people who are lost, even if you have to be person #1 you offer up to.  I signed myself up for a DNC newsletter.  I said I want to know who is coming up for a campaign.  This act was not – obviously – the same as marching down the street, but an act to move out of a state of inertia, of gaping, gasping shock, and towards something more powerful.

At the shop, as part of an eerie and quiet day, we were given gift certificates.  I bought a gray fluffy top that looks like Stevie Nicks would have worn at the height of her gypsy days.  We were also told not to engage customers in political chatter.  Then, for the first time, my mentor felt a bit tone-deaf as she told me how much she liked Hillary’s concession speech.  She spoke about mending the country, and I didn’t give her my usual full-throated approval.

I am concerned that the boss apparently has an inkling I’m looking, if only because the sister told her she had an interview and she asked about me and while the sister said she didn’t know what I was doing, the boss said she suspected for one reason or another.  Which, I mean, I didn’t know when to say or what to say…yesterday was so challenging in that we went to all of these places where our lives are meant to be centered and I, at that point still in this haze of complete acceptance and assurance as to the next President, felt as though it was doable.  I hated it – I hated the idea of the drive and of being downtown or accidentally having to get my ass up to this rural area which is this boondocks-sorta place to have anything to do with us even.  But, now, I might have to go there and be suspiciously eyed.

Blessings to those of us who find our ways to fight the fight.

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