Hi, My Name Is _____, and I Feel ____ about Living in America

Leaving space to move forward

Years ago, I sat in a tiny church in LA and listened to my pastor speak about finding clarity at a crossroads. As a twenty something who was still really working to find a new direction, to find some kind of stability, I was all ears. Though I don’t remember the scripture he was on, or even the point of the sermon, I can vividly picture him standing at the front of the congregation with his palms-up hands moving up and down like they were a scale.

“So we’re balancing these tensions,” he would say. Something, I think, about sitting with discomfort. Something about being still. Something about acceptance.

He talked about a treasured Quaker tradition that allows a person facing a difficulty to go before a panel of their peers who simply ask clarifying questions. There’s no judgement, no leading probes. The idea is that people have the answers they are searching for within them, they just have to be in a space that can bring them out.

Just after the election, I wrote about how I was reconciling its outcome. How I made sense of the fact that people I know and love voted for Donald Trump. And how I personally was acknowledging that, at least on some level, they were lost to me.

The response has been truly remarkable.

Hundreds responded with comments about shared grief, stories about lost friends and family, and feelings of despair. I read wonderful perspectives from fiery activists, insight from determined community members, sympathy from foreign allies, and ponderings from friends in mourning. There were even a few case-in-point maga voters that weighed in.

What was most striking to me was that in all of this open sharing, there was also a conversation building.

Readers would see what someone wrote and comment with their opinion or their experience. There would be respectful back and forth discussion, and people would share articles or resources with one another. Sometimes people would just comment in solidarity with those who were having a really tough time or were feeling alone, which is a lot of us, I think.

As I read through this comment section, I was heartened. I still am, as the conversation is still alive and 700ish comments in. What I think is particularly encouraging is that participants are sitting in discomfort and searching for answers together in a kind of collective wondering.

How do we comprehend this loss?

Where do we go from here?

What does it mean to let go, or to hold on to hope?

We are torn between wanting to be kind and wanting people to pay a price for the pain they cause. We need community and friendship, but we struggle to find connection with many of our neighbors. We want to see the world realistically, but we don’t want to lose our belief in humanity.

It’s a push and a pull, and the balance is never going to be just right. But we’re trying to find it.

What I’m proud of in our comment section, is the multitude of experiences that people share and others read and interact with. What a gift that we have a whole group of people who will engage in this difficult conversation. Full of people who ask thoughtful questions and leave room answers to emerge.

I go back to that pew in Burbank when I contemplated the power of mindfulness, and the idea that we grow in times of uncertainty. That with supportive and thoughtful participation from community members, we can access aspects of ourselves needed to solve our most puzzling circumstances.

I don’t know that the other side of the aisle has the capacity to do that right now.

But we do. We’re showing up. We’re opening up. We’re giving ourselves the chance to grow, and we’re leaving thoughtful space for others to find a way forward too.

Thank you all for participating.

With love and hope for the future,

Stephanie

What tensions are you wrestling with three months after the election?

What do you find hopeful about the conversations you are having right now?