WOMEN'S MARCH 2.0

Well, I'm about to run into a buzzsaw here.  I'm gonna be labeled a whiner and a wimp; judge-y and sexist and lazy -- and probably defensive as well.  There could be truth in all of that -- and I say "bring it on" anyway.

One thing I am ramping up this year is my practice of self-compassion.  It's hard because I have high expectations of myself.  I often fall woefully short of my self-imposed job description.

For example, yesterday's Women's March 2.0.  I got all squishy about it; ambivalent, bordering on disinterested.  I'd been in a bit of a funk anyway; both of my feet were in a flare up of my occasional plantar fasciitis affliction; and it was supposed to be cold and rainy.  Plus, we had our monthly Tribe gathering scheduled for the evening and Hub and I had some organizing to do around our topic facilitation, not to mention brownie baking as our contribution to the meal.  It's not all that easy to open a brownie mix, believe me.  You have to add stuff, like eggs and oil!

Known in some circles as the Queen of the Resistance on Facebook, how could I ditch the March and retain any credibility?  And truthfully I didn't want to ditch it...I just wanted my feet not to hurt, for the weather to be sunny and warm, and not to feel rushed from one event to the next.

The compromise seemed to be to skip the big Seattle March and do the loosely organized one in my town instead.  It was a longer route but easier to navigate a late entry or early exit if my feet gave out.  I'd be home in 5 minutes from the end of the march rally and have those brownies in the oven and easily be on time for the evening gathering with no time stress.

So, at the 11th hour on Friday night, after being interviewed in the local paper and saying I'd be at the Seattle march, http://www.heraldnet.com/news/everett-events-part-of-national-march-to-impeach/,  I decided to stay local.  I went to the smaller march close to home.  Hub wanted to join in this year, so we both got up and made signs.  I posted an invitation on FB for all to join the local effort, hoping to drum up more support, and we headed for the meeting place.

Pulling into the parking lot was the first letdown.  We counted about 30 people.  We live in a city of 110,000; not known to be a hotbed of activism and perhaps on the conservative side historically, but seriously???  30 people!  We did run into another couple -- good friends of ours -- who were planning to march as well.  We all shrugged and contemplated our commitment.  I may have sworn a bit; I do tire of the lack of enthusiasm here for public civic engagement.

After a while, more people began to arrive, lifting our spirits some, but not enough for me.  I bailed right off the bat.  Hub and our friends marched on without me.  I decided to drive further into the route, babying my sore feet, and joining up closer to the end.  I found a spot up on an overlook where I could see the strung out line of marchers and counted about 80 people, some carrying signs, most older, few younger, few children.  They walked single file or two abreast chatting together, like on a Saturday waterfront stroll.   As they approached me, I took photos and got lots of smiles and waves and saw some happy, familiar faces.  That was fun.   My woman friend bailed at that point and I drove her back to her car.  Her husband and mine continued on.  I thought that was sort of wonderful and hilarious.  Husbands representin' at the Women's March!

Then I went to the store for the brownie fixings and ice cream and went home until it was time for the rally at the end of the March.

I found about 40 more people waiting at the County Building for the marchers to arrive. By the time they did maybe 50-60 people were gathered.  There was an awning and speakers stepped up to the poor PA system microphone.  The first speaker was a man.  I'm sorry....a MAN?  He's actually someone I know and respect for his activism in environmental causes, but still....  This is where I may sound sexist, but I think a woman might have been a better choice for kicking things off at the WOMEN'S March.  This is not about him, or a man speaking per se, but about how it was organized;  the flow, if you will, and who is featured and who is in a supportive role.  Then a woman did speak, and I didn't know her or her organization, but the gist of her remarks were a diatribe against the current health care system.  Not the message I was there to hear.  I thought we were celebrating the rise of women's leadership in the Resistance, the influx of women into the political system, the unity of all toward a common goal, the necessity for taking back the Congress in the mid-terms. (Power to the Polls!)

It was raining and I was cold.  Hub was cold and tired too. He had walked 5 miles and we still had work to do for our evening commitment.  We left.  So did others.  I don't know who else spoke or about what.  Maybe what I'd hoped to hear was said in my absence.  I hope so.  I do know there was at least one more male speaker.  No local politicians spoke, to my knowledge, although one male city council member was in the crowd.  (We have a woman mayor and three women council members...where were they?)

It was a disappointing experience and I only have myself to blame for wimping out on the Seattle March, which drew tens of thousands and was a lively, energetic, multi-generational, ethnically, and racially diverse celebration of the Resistance and the rise of women's political clout.  Watching coverage of marches all over the country and the world brought tears to my eyes -- images of power, strength, and hope.

In the end, though, a March is only a symbol of unity; it doesn't result in much but a feel-good moment in time.  The real work happens in the every day effort we all expend as individuals to make the calls, send the faxes, the texts, and the emails to our elected representatives; it's in the support we show for candidates by writing checks, making calls, ringing doorbells.

So, I forgive myself for my wimpy, judge-y, lazy efforts around the March this year.  I spent Friday hitting up legislators via FreeFax and phone calls to support the Net Neutrality repeal legislation and to support the Dreamers.  I did it alone, at my desk, in my home office, quietly, with no fanfare and no (now controversial) pink hat or waving sign.   I just did the work of democracy.  If that's all we do, that's enough.

At least that's the view from here...©

TRUE CONFESSION

I've been putting this off for awhile.  Well, for 45-1/2 years to be exact.  But this being a new year and me leaning into Fierce Optimism when it comes to our political situation right now, I'm going to reveal one of the deepest, darkest secrets of my adult life.  Brace yourselves.

I voted for Richard Nixon in 1972.

Dear god, I already feel everyone in my circle fleeing in horror.  When I sign back onto Facebook, I will discover I've been unfriended en mass.  If I hadn't already stepped away from my Unitarian Universalist church, I'd be shunned on Sunday morning. (Not really -- they are a very welcoming group, but they'd be shocked nonetheless.)  My bonafides -- Progressive, Liberal, Feminist, Peace-Loving, Diversity-Embracing banner-carrier -- are now called into question and found wanting at best, lies at worst.  I fear being drummed out of the Resistance.

But you see, this admission also allows me to take a long, hard look at my own judgementalism.  (Is that a word?  Well, it seems another "ism" to fight against.)

I have railed against, denigrated, and blamed every single person who voted for the current president for their ability to accept, or overlook, certain aspects of his demonstrably piss-poor character and outrageous racism and misogyny.  I still hold some blame toward those who were "I hate Hillary enough to vote for an unfit, unhinged, inexperienced reality show host to lead our country".  And toward those who STILL support him, after the year of living dangerously we've just endured, I am speechless and we can probably find zero common ground, ever, on this topic.

But to those who were willfully, lazily, ignorant; I guess I offer grudging understanding.  Been there, done that.

I first knew of Richard Nixon during the 1960 election year, when I was just shy of 10 years old. I'd spent the campaign cycle amongst my fellow 4th graders, whose parents were predominantly former "I Like Ike" Republicans and just transferred their allegiance to Nixon.  I recall only one little girl in my class who was "for Kennedy".  She was seen as weird and sort of exotic, even after JFK visited our blue collar factory town whose visit, in my family, was characterized as merely an annoying traffic tie-up downtown.  We little girls even gave our Girl Scout leader the endearing nickname, "Nikki" -- short for Nixon!

My parents never discussed politics; I didn't have a clue where they stood on the issues.  I just knew we were Republicans -- like every single other person I knew except that one little girl.  Nixon lost in 1960 (robbed by that scoundrel Daley, mayor of the big, bad city an hour east of us).  But he went on to win in '68 and it just seemed natural.  I grew up with the idea that Richard Nixon was Presidential.

In the 60's I had awakened to the horror of the Vietnam War, which seems awful, but I didn't really question it or take the initiative to understand it.  I was drawn to the appeal of the "hippie culture" and flirted with that by listening to "psychedelic" pop music, wearing bell-bottoms, hanging out with long-haired guys, and smoking a bit of weed.  I'd come to find the Kennedy clan exciting and good-looking and I watched Bobby Kennedy with some modicum of budding interest in politics.  I cried when he was killed and the world seemed to be moving out of it's familiar orbit.  But mostly my life was still comfortably conservative, small town, and unworldly.  I did not "fight the man".

So when Nixon ran in 1972, I was a month shy of turning 22 and four months into being a newlywed.  I had mostly left my counter-culture flirtation behind and turned my concerns to "keeping house" like a grownup and perfecting a chicken fried steak recipe prepared in my new avocado green electric frying pan in the yellow-walled kitchen of our second story walk-up apartment.  I was also on a bowling league.

Still, I was excited to vote for the first time (voting age was still 21 then).  The polling place for our precinct was, oddly, in the basement of a private home as I recall -- that does seem weird, but it's how I remember it now.  I stepped up to the voting booth, closed the privacy curtain, and voted for Richard Nixon, because he was already president, so he must be a good one and he'd been around most of my life, so yeah....that was that.   I never gave it another thought.

Until late 1973.  We'd moved by then into Chicago for Hub's med school adventure.  I was working as a secretarial clerk at the medical center, a virtual United Nations of docs from all over the world.  I also started college for the first time at age 23.  The world around me suddenly went from black and white to color.  YOWZA!  There was so much to learn!  By the time Nixon resigned in 1974, I had a year of college under my belt, was a newly-minted Democrat, liberal, feminist and cheered his departure with my supervisor, sitting in front of a small TV she'd brought into the office for the occasion.  She was my first political teacher and I was the model student at her knee.

Was I willfully ignorant in 1972 or just disinterested?  That's where it gets tricky in my judgementalism.  I think disinterested ignorance, especially in this day and age of internet access to a wide variety of thought, opinion, and information is willful.  These days ya gotta actively avoid being educated about the political landscape and that is a choice.

But didn't I make the same choice in 1972?  I was so immersed in my own life of work, friends, and newlywed-ness; so surrounded by a conservative, Republican community; so sheltered from  diversity; so immune to critical thinking, that I just went along.  I may have glanced at the one local newspaper and may have switched on Walter Cronkite in the evening, but none of it seemed relevant to me.  I was working my way through my new Betty Crocker cookbook and trying to improve my bowling average.

So, I get it.  I get that some people are still just like I was at a certain point in their lives and since I forgive myself, I have to forgive them too.  Immaturity, self-absorption, and/or lack of experience in the wider world all contribute to choices that later on seem impossible, even grossly embarrassing.

My optimism comes in the form of hope that just as I found an awakening through education, experience, exposure to diversity, and even maturity, others will too.  They will discover that an informed and active populace, with critical thinking skills, is essential to a functioning democracy.

I'm not saying everyone will follow my lead and vote Democratic.  But my FIERCE OPTIMISM is that the disinterested will awaken and that never again will the voters elect a wholly unqualified, dangerous, authoritarian-wanna-be to the White House, nor tolerate those who prop him up for their own (and their corporate donors) self-interest.  Be a Republican if you must, but be a good one.

At least, that's the view from here...©

FIERCE OPTIMISM

HAPPY NEW YEAR!  

January is always a time of tremendous relief for me -- the holidays over and a clean slate ahead.  And this year we had the super-auspicious coincidence that January 1st fell on a Monday!  A dieter's good omen!  (I'll start it on Monday...I'll start it on the 1st of the month...)

To kick off the January 1st "New Start", Hub and I went to a New Year's Eve gathering with friends where we facilitated a sharing circle to talk about what we are letting go of and what intentions we are setting for 2018.  We also ate, drank, had an 'oldies' sing-along, and shot off fireworks.  Got home at 1 a.m. and stayed up talking with Hub until 2.  I do believe it's been years since I was up, on purpose, that late!  So 2018 was already shaping up to be different.

This year I am letting go of the ever-vying for my attention twins: depression and anxiety (who have been mostly sidelined for over a year, but they are sneaky bastards), procrastination, heaviness of body and spirit, and anger/rage at the political situation.  I wrote all that down and tossed the paper into the fire pit.  Good riddance!

My intentions are:
To be a badass Resistance Fighter and to act from a place of compassion and fierce optimism
To prioritize health and vitality
To practice gratitude with daily reflection
To prioritize writing projects
To be more vocal and activist about ageism

I wrote all those down, attached them to a lantern and set it free into the full-mooned, cold, clear, sky carrying my intentions on the gentle midnight breeze.

And, so far, so good....

I've gone a bit quiet on the political front, as I reflect and become more discerning on where my energy needs to go -- into thoughtful action and not constant, frantic reaction to the chaotic craziness that emanates from the current president's mind and mouth.  It continues to be outrageous and terrifying but I'm not so triggered every time.  I find a quiet assurance emerging that this is a temporary situation.  2018 is a Mid-Term year.  That's where my energy is going to go; to work to throw the enabling, party-before-country, sucking-at-the-corporate-teat, self-serving Republicans out on their butts.  (OK, maybe I'm still a little pissed.)

My Gratitude Journal holds the mundane and sublime record of daily thanks for the abundance of joy and challenge in my life and what I can learn from that.

I've pretty much eschewed mindless sugar consumption, kicked up my treadmill walks, and have lost 1.5 pounds.

I'm forging ahead with a writing project that I plan to turn into a book for my family.

And I'm toying with the idea of either starting a new blog about growing older/ageism or making discussions of ageism a larger part of this blog.  So, stay tuned on that.

I feel on the cusp of changes for Hub and me this year too...sort of undefined yet, but a subtle shifting of attention, priorities; living with more intention and making deeper connections to each other and those we love.  Also, we will be doing a lot of traveling this year -- a completely new focus for me, who typically spouts the "I hate to travel" mantra.  I'm actually excited about our trips...but I'm not packing yet, so there's still time for the night-before-leaving panic and regret about "making these stupid plans and can't we just stay home?!?"  So, stay tuned on that too.

All in all, today finds me optimistic....fiercely optimistic....about 2018.  And that's a brand new place for me to be.  Go figure.

At least, that's the view from here...©