Anne Lamott

I have some concerns.

A few of you may, too, like possibly 69 million of you. Sigh. If you are anything like me, you can barely remember having ever felt so stunned, and doomed, except when someone very close to you died, or divorced you, or the godawful biopsy results came back.

It’s a little as if the godawful biopsy results came back, and 73 million people cheered and gloated.

So, yes, definitely, this is not ideal. We are in for a dark and scary ride. My response to crisis and the end of the world has always been to figure out whom to blame, how to numb the pain, and how to fix miserable realities.

I have not been having much luck with any of these. Reality seems nauseatingly real. We got skunked, but good.

We can’t even blame it on the electoral college this time. I hate that.

I don’t know. God, do I not know. I majorly megatron do not know. So at first that might seem like the end of the discussion, but if you listen to my personal husband, Neal, that’s actually the beginning.

 “I don’t know,” he suggests, is the portal to freedom. I was raised by atheist intellectuals, and my parents’ solution to everything was to know. To figure it out. But when Neal’s clients are being badgered by themselves or family to answer a difficult question or challenge, he teaches them to say, “I don’t know.” It opens up possibilities. This gives us a shot at being curious, rather than certain, which is a dead end.

Paul Tillich wrote that the opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty. I am a jello mold of uncertainty right now, with horrible shredded carrots in it. I don’t know how things are going to shake down, except that #47 will almost certainly destroy the economy with his tariffs and tax cuts for the very rich and corporations, and then the plates of the earth will shift again. I don’t know what we do next, although I am going to take a walk and a nap at some point today, take care of people who are really suffering, and get everyone a glass of water.

Why aren’t I freaking out more? I don’t know. I just believe in goodness, radical self care, and that grace bats last. So sue me.

Also that more will be revealed. We’ve only been in this new reality for a few days. When Chou En Lai, the first premier of China, was asked his thoughts on the French Revolution, he took drag on his Gauloise (bleu) and answered, “Too soon to tell.” 

Wednesday, a pundit whom I respect tweeted that the resistance seemed muted. I loved this: It had been ten hours since we lost. But when? I don’t know. Beginning with what? I don’t know. How do we keep the faith in goodness? I don’t know. We just do. 

What happened Tuesday had been in the works for years but we weren’t paying attention or couldn’t quite believe it. Jung said, “What we don’t bring to consciousness, comes to us as fate. And we need—eventually—to take a look at that. Not today. 

Today? We take care of ourselves and those we love. We always, always take care of the poor, with donations, or bags of groceries to local food pantries. We get outside: Wednesday morning, at 7:00, Neal suggested we take a walk. This was the last thing I wanted to do, but I headed out beside him and our spiritual service dog. After ten minutes or so, I said grimly, “This was not a good idea.” Everything was too intense and real. I felt like a burn victim. Then ten minutes later, I began to see beauty all around me, in nature and neighbors, and our good dog. When I noticed how droplets sparkled amid grass stems, it helped me begin to breathe again. Left foot, right foot, left foot, breeeeeathe: this, and kindness, are all we need to know right now; today. I send you my best love and a big hug. You are all so amazing to me.

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