Dear Friends,
The cumulative effect of the past month’s assault on democracy and on the safety and welfare of our people weighs heavy on my heart this evening. This past week’s barrage of executive orders, the various irresponsible dismissals of governmental leadership, and even worse, the approval of vastly unqualified people to roles of substantive national leadership, has left me at times just feeling empty and hopeless. The old “fight, flight, or freeze” response often doesn’t seem to work for me, and I just remain bewildered and nearly despondent. I have concluded that whatever is driving all this vengeance and disruptive mismanagement just needs to run some sort of course until it folds in on itself, but that offers little consolation. But over these past few years of Covid, and now the Trump administration, I have learned that the least I can do is to remain a faithful witness to what it means to be so vulnerable in these precarious times. And I especially want to record how I have tried to respond to so much vulnerability, confusion, fear, and uncertainty. How have my faith base and my deep respect for the bedrock goodness in life provided a foundation for the survival of my heart and soul?
I have concluded there are at least a couple of responses we can take to help us weather this incredibly unsettled historical period. One is to establish a long-term perspective, and, in contrast, the other is to establish an emotional and moral practice of focusing on the immediate present in terms of perspective, I was encouraged by a Judy Woodruff PBS interview this week (2/19) with Robert Putnam of “Bowling Alone” fame - his observation of a continuing trend that Americans spend less time with others and more time alone and the impact that has on cultural cohesion. His latest book, The Upswing: How America Came Together a Century Ago and How WE Can Do It Again, explores how America worked itself out of the economic and class disparities during the “gilded age” of the early 1900s, a time that parallels and our current situation of economic, class, and cultural divides. He expected that some frame of economic recovery would have driven the eventual realignment that offered more cultural and financial stability. But what he found was that the basis for the national recovery was actually a cultural change, an awakening about the importance of a moral obligation to serve other people. Led by reformers of “the progressive age” like the Department of Labor secretary, Francis Perkins, the first woman cabinet member, the nation came to realize it had an obligation to provide for the safety and welfare of its people. This moral movement eventually led to the new deal and legislation that protected some of the most vulnerable and provided sufficient political support for this new framework of government. Heather Cox Richardson describes this period as a shift from a government that protected and supported business to one that took responsibility for the welfare of the people. Putnam thus envisions a similar movement from the current dominance of wealth and power to a culture and a government committed to public welfare. We can only hope. (Link to the full Judy Woodruff 10 minute PBS interview with Putnam.)
Until this moral renewal occurs, of course, we are forced to cope with the distress noted above. And that leads to my suggestion for how we might live in the meantime. In addition to possible nonviolent resistance, of course, I have been writing fairly consistently over the years about our need to live into an alternative vision about how we want to live our lives that emphasizes mutual responsibility and cooperation, often in stark contrast to the current culture of individuality and emphasis on wealth. We must envision and live into a time similar to our country’s Progressive era noted above and then the New Deal legislation that followed. As Robert Putnam notes, we can do this because we have done it before. We need to cultivate a daily practice of caring and respecting others, loving our own sacred worth, loving the earth, loving even our problematic friends and neighbors. We need to reverence our lives with love and humility before the wonder and mystery of life itself. We need to foster and model this behavior individually and to create communities that support our vision. When enough of us can commit to this level of love and mutual care, the local and broader parts of governmental policy and leadership will follow.
I have come across a number of poems recently offering solace and encouragement when we feel so discouraged. I want to close with one of those poems that captures the essence of what I am trying to share about a hopeful perspective and personal resilience
Because
May 30, 2022 by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
So I can’t save the world --
can’t save even myself,
can’t wrap my arms around
every frightened child, can’t
foster peace among nations,
can’t bring love to all who
feel unlovable.
So I practice opening my heart
right here in this room and being gentle
with my insufficiency. I practice
walking down the street heart first.
And if it is insufficient to share love,
I will practice loving anyway.
I want to converse about truth,
about trust. I want to invite compassion
into every interaction.
One willing heart can’t stop a war.
One willing heart can’t feed all the hungry.
And sometimes, daunted by a task too big,
I tell myself what’s the use of trying?
But today, the invitation is clear:
to be ridiculously courageous in love.
To open the heart like a lilac in May,
knowing freeze is possible
and opening anyway.
To take love seriously.
To give love wildly.
To race up to the world
as if I were a puppy,adoring and unjaded,
stumbling on my own exuberance.
To feel the shock of indifference,
of anger, of cruelty, of fear,
and stay open.
To love as if it matters,
as if the world depends on it.
From The Unfolding (Wildhouse Publishing, 2024)
Blessings in solidarity with all of our struggles at this time,
Tom
Originally published in Tom Ewell Connections
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