Sometime in the last several days, I decided (realized?) that — whatever the future might hold — the important thing was to not be afraid, for it is fear that has brought us to the place where we are in the U.S.

And just now, as I was typing, I remembered a prayer/blessing/reminder that says exactly that:

"The world is a narrow bridge,
and the most important thing is
not to be afraid."

--Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, early 1800s --

Yesterday, instead of letting anxiety overwhelm me (as it has so often these last months), I found — or was given — a place of peace, a firm footing, the sense of rootedness and holding that Old Oak, growing on the side of very steep slope, has been trying to teach me.

I didn’t stay up late last night waiting for the election results. This morning I began the day (as I have been doing most days lately) by choosing a song [today, The Grateful Dead’s “Ripple”] and dancing — dancing back into my body, into the present moment. Then I was ready find out what had happened, to read the news.

I am deeply, deeply saddened that more than half the voters in my country have chosen to move forward on paths that seem to be paved with anger and fears — both their own (which are real) & those they were taught through the telling and re-telling of false stories.

As so often, I turned to poetry for help.

William Carlos Williams wrote :

“It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.”

These 2 poems gave me some news of the world as it is — and hints about what I am/we are called to do in response.

                A Ritual to Read to Each Other
                           by William E. Stafford

"If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dike.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider—
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep."
 

                       Narrative Theology #1   
                       by Padraig O Tuama

"And I said to him:
Are there answers to all of this?
And he said:
The answer is in a story
and the story is being told.
And I said:
But there is so much pain.
And she answered, plainly:
Pain will happen.
Then I said:
Will I ever find meaning?
And they said:
You will find meaning
where you give meaning.
The answer is in a story
and the story isn’t finished."

*******

On a lighter note, last night my husband got up and went into the dark kitchen to get a drink of water. He picked up yesterday’s water mug but, rather than drinking from it as usual, he first emptied it into the sink. He felt something crawling onto his hand and flung the thing off. Then he turned on a light. It was a tree frog! How did it get into the house, let alone into a mug on the kitchen counter? He carefully carried it out into its usual world. (Unfortunately, he didn’t take a picture.) I take the frog’s presence as a good omen. In many cultures, a frog is a sign of healing. May it be so.

I am sending you all love & blessings & prayers for peace. May we remember and tell the good stories — the ones that bring Light, Life, Compassion, and Kindness into our hearts & into the world.