Month: August 2020

Love, Hope, and Light – Day 648

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Rays of Light – Photo: L. Weikel

Love, Hope, and Light

What an exceptional capstone to a remarkably challenging and unconventional Democratic Convention. I can honestly say that even four years ago, I don’t think I would’ve believed I’d hear so many politicians use the concepts of love, hope, and light, as the fundamental and most powerful arguments for their case to the American public.

Most shocking of all, to me, is the unabashed hue and cry for more love. Love for our country. Love for each other. Just typing these words makes my heart quicken and my breath catch in my throat.

I’ll admit it. I was a little nervous that Joe Biden would falter or come across as lackluster or perhaps lagging just half a beat off this evening. Perhaps this was because I heard him speak in Philadelphia back in September at the first ever Workers’ Presidential Summit, and while his sincerity was unquestionable (and his experience unassailable), he seemed tired. And maybe he was. I, for one, do not know how any of the candidates managed to criss-cross the nation and maintain the energy and enthusiasm called for to address tens, hundreds, and thousands of people day in and day out.

Clarity, Courage, and Fire

But when all was said and done, Joe got it done. And I guess that’s what being a leader for the times is all about. It’s doing what needs to be done when the moment presents itself. It’s seizing the opportunity when the gauntlet is thrown and coming through not only for yourself but for everyone who yearns for clarity, courage, and the fire to fight for all of us.

Speaking of clarity, courage, and fire, I doubt there was anyone who watched 13 year old Brayden Harrington metaphorically walk on a bed of hot coals in front of the entire nation (and probably not a small part of the entire world) and was not blown away by his unbelievable courage and grace. That segment spoke volumes about the character of both Joe Biden and Brayden Harrington, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget the powerful impact it made on me.

Rays of Hope and Light

I don’t have words that can improve upon this evening’s final speech. So I just want to leave you with this quote:

“Let us begin, you and I, together. One nation under God, united in our love for America, united in our love for each other. For love is more powerful than hate; hope is more powerful than fear; and light is more powerful than dark.

This is our moment. This is our mission.

May history be able to say that the end of this chapter of American darkness began here – tonight.”

– Joseph Biden

May it be be so.

Rays of Hope – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-463)

Dire, Honest Warning – Day 647

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Sky’s On Fire – Photo: L. Weikel

Dire, Honest Warning

I’d be lying if I tried to pretend I didn’t watch the Democratic Convention this evening. (Who would I be kidding anyhow? I’ve watched every night so far – you know me well enough to know that.) And as enthusiastic and hopeful as I’ve felt watching every evening, I came away tonight with the unmistakable verification of my worst fears. Barack Obama confirmed in a speech that could only be called a starkly dire, honest warning that we really and truly are at extreme peril of witnessing the destruction of our republic.

The speech he gave tonight was chilling. It was compelling. And if you were paying attention and really listening to him – and by that I mean not only hearing his words but also observing his expressions and paying attention to his mannerisms as he spoke – you could not miss the urgency in his message.

After that speech tonight, there can be no doubt that our country is in grave danger.

President Obama spoke with a concern and barely controlled combination of rage and despair over what we’re all witnessing. If you have even a cursory appreciation for how he has spoken at other conventions (or anywhere, for that matter), you know that this was remarkably different. This speech truly was a call to stand up and take responsibility.

Kamala’s Opportunity

It seems to me that President Obama laid out just how bleak and dire everything is right now not only because he feels the perilousness at hand, which he unequestionably does. But he also did it this way so that Kamala Harris could take this one night to introduce herself to the vast swaths of the United States that aren’t familiar with her, and not have to spend precious minutes of her time attacking Donald Trump.

We all know a vice presidential nominee’s main raison d’etre is to be the attack dog. This strategy enables the presidential candidate to ostensibly keep their head above the fray, while their partner prosecutes the case against the opponent (and in this case, the incumbent). Tonight it almost seemed as if Obama ran interference for Harris.

The chilling part, though, is my strong sense that Obama couldn’t have been more straightforward in his warnings. This is not a joke. It’s not hyperbole.

This election could very well be the last chance we have to save our country from falling into an abyss of tyranny and authoritarianism.

Plan Your Vote

As the Democratic party seemed to be hammering home all evening, it is essential that we do whatever we must to ensure that our responsibility to vote is exercised in this election. There are powers that be – powers that would resort to literally ripping mailboxes out of the ground to prevent you from voting by mail – that will do anything to remain at the top of the food chain in this country.

Especially as a result of the pandemic, we must make sure we know exactly what our deadlines and other rules are in our state (whatever state that may be). If you need help in getting the best information about voting in person or by mail in your state, text VOTE to 30330.

Armed with knowledge and a determination that no one and nothing will succeed in standing between you and your right to cast your ballot, you are unstoppable. You are a patriot. You will be able to look yourself, your kids, and your grandchildren in the eyes and say, “I voted. I did not sit it out.”

Vote. Vote. Vote.

The future of our democracy is at stake.

(T-464)

Working From Home – Day 646

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Spartacus Usurping My Work Space – Photo: L. Weikel

Working From Home

Since the pandemic hit, Karl and I have been working from home. When I say working, for me at least, I am primarily referring to shamanic work and focusing on my next writing project.

Once it became warm enough, I essentially moved my workspace out onto our porch. It’s a small space, but it is where I gravitate to and feel most closely aligned to Mother Earth – and She is my primary partner in everything that I do.

Peeking at me across my driveway – Photo: L. Weikel

In case you’re wondering, I probably should clarify: when I have a session with a client, I don’t usually conduct it outside on the porch. Rather, my habit has been to retire upstairs to one of our bedrooms where I can open Sacred Space, shake my rattles, use my drums, and envision my client reclined in front of me as if they were in my office. That said, as long as there’s good cell service, a session can be conducted anywhere.

But all the other time I spend writing follow up emails to clients, corresponding via email and text message, and working on my next book, I generally spend on our porch. Which means that I’m assisted by a wide range of creatures.

This post is a short one. I’m sharing some photos of only a few of my office mates.

While we don’t generally gather at a water cooler, we have been known to share a few peanuts when the going’s gotten tough.

Hanging near the olive oil for Sacred Fire – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-465)

Empathy and Listens – Day 645

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Discordant and tumultuous sky – Photo: L. Weikel

Empathy and Listens

The two words that stood out to me the most tonight as I watched the Virtual Democratic Convention were ‘empathy’ and ‘listens.’

Throughout the evening, these words – and many others, to be sure – were used to describe attributes Joe Biden brings to the table that differentiate him from the current occupant of the White House. The way Joe Biden embodies the essence of these two words in particular was very effectively conveyed in photo after photo as the night progressed. I have to admit it: I’ve always taken for granted the genuine affection for and interest in people that he has so readily displayed all these years.

Of course, Michelle Obama knocked it out of the park when she drove home the indisputable fact that we yearn for a leader who not only listens – to experts, to scientists, to advisors, to warnings, to facts, to the people he governs – but also has the inherent ability to imagine walking in the shoes of another and can imagine their pain, their fear, their sorrow, and their needs.

It is painful to witness this president’s lack of empathy. It is virtually impossible to dispute that there is something deeply, inherently damaged in him. And oddly, it is hard not to feel sorry for him (if only fleetingly) and his obvious inability to feel sorry for anyone other than himself. (That’s quite a pretzel – feeling empathy for a person who has none himself.)

New Moon

I’m glad this virtual convention is taking place this week. Tomorrow evening is the new moon. It is, in truth, the time when the moon is darkest, which serves as a decent metaphor for the very dark times we find ourselves in as a country and, in an unprecedented number, individually.

It’s sort of that ‘darkest before the dawn’ scenario. This is the time when we plant the seeds of new beginnings, new ideas, new approaches to life. This is when we realize that what we’ve been doing isn’t working, what we’ve had isn’t cutting it.

So what do we do? We dream our world into being. We collectively envision what it is we want to create in our country, in our government, in our lives, and we paint that image for all to see. We paint it for others through words and actions so they, too, can add their energy to the collective imagining or dreaming-into-being of the world we wish to create.

And there’s no better time than to do that planting, painting, and envisioning than at the new moon. So I feel this virtual convention was well-timed.

Virtual Convention

And I for one found the format of this ‘convention’ made it far easier to hear the speakers and grasp their ideas and passions. Interestingly, it made it easier, for me at least, to connect with the speakers, get a sense of who they were and listen to what they were saying. While I’m sure those who would have been delegates to the convention are lamenting the restrictions imposed by the pandemic, it seemed to me that if people are truly valuing the quality of listening, then this format was perfect for this unique time in our lives and the life of our country.

I’m looking forward to engaging in more listening this week. I yearn to believe there’s reason to hope we can reclaim the soul of our country.

And I have to admit, as a shamanic practitioner, I feel the concept of reclaiming (retrieving) the soul of our country could not be a more perfect metaphor for what is needed.

After the storm – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-466)

As Darkness Approached – Day 644

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Darkness Approaching – Photo: L. Weikel

As Darkness Approached

I took a walk by myself this evening. Well, no; that’s not true. I may have been devoid of human accompaniment, but I was not by myself in the least. As darkness approached, I was surrounded by life.

First of all, Spartacus was with me. He is, if I do say so myself, a most excellent companion. He’s always game to take a walk, no matter what time of day or evening. And he really only bristles with antagonism and hubris when he encounters other dogs.

I’m grateful that he’s not a big barker. In fact, he rarely woofs, arfs, or growls on a walk. This fact permits us to wander hither and yon throughout the countryside, his presence rarely frightening the local fauna. Part of that may be due to the cataracts I can see starting to form in his dark brown eyes. He doesn’t seem nearly as aware as he used to be of the turkeys galavanting across the road or the deer stamping their feet in in the field as we pass. Or maybe he is, and he’s just older and wiser and knows those are battles he no longer chooses to indulge in.

Tonight, though, we were both in the dark. A new moon is approaching – this coming Tuesday, in fact, at 10:41 p.m. – so the night sky was resplendent with stars. At least, it was when we emerged from the tree tunnel. But inside that canopy it was startlingly dark, especially since the leaves are thick and formidable at this time of the year, yielding few gaps that permit even starlight to twinkle through.

I Should’ve Tried

I actually thought of all of you as we approached the tree tunnel. I almost took a photo of it; it looked so formidable and just a tiny bit spooky. I should’ve at least tried, but I talked myself out of it, telling myself it wouldn’t look like what I was seeing. (Which is really a weird thing, when I think about it. It’s not as if I would’ve been wasting film if it didn’t turn out. So why didn’t I just try?)

Of course, the arching of the trees made it look like we were entering a cave, which was the vision I wanted to capture. Just recently I’d read an allusion to how caves archetypally harbor scary things to humans, and I remember thinking that a little odd and not necessarily true for me, at least. Fear is not my initial reaction when I think of caves. I’d say curiosity is my fundamental sense.

Even if a bear or a dragon were to be in a cave, I don’t know that I would assume that resident would necessarily want to kill or harm me. (My rational side says, as I write that, “WHY NOT?” and I can’t really give a good answer.)

Perhaps it’s because I’ve actually discovered a number of amazing Beings inside caves, archetypal energies who’ve become allies and helped me negotiate life in ways big and small through the years. My toughest teacher resides in a cave.

Definitely Not Alone

But I digress. Not only was Spartacus a welcome companion throughout the walk (and especially as we entered the tree tunnel), but once inside the darkness I felt Seen by so many. Lightning bugs seemed to deliberately dance in front of me, almost leading me along the path through the woods. Bats darted here and there, and ever so slightly, at the tips of my eardrums, I thought I could hear their squeaks. Screech owls whinnied but sounded further away than usual. A wind moving through the forest high above me rustled the leaves aloft but left me with just the imaginings of a breeze.

Geese started squawking in the valley below and I wondered if one of their own had become an evening meal to a fox or perhaps even a Great Horned owl.

Thoughout the entire journey, but especially within the tree tunnel, crickets and katydids and tree frogs sang a constant background that almost sounded like a deliberate round, factions stopping and starting, a bunch to my left picking up the tune just as others on my right tapered off. Come to think of it, those bats were darting pretty darn close to my poofy pandemic hair for me to hear their little squeaks.

Ha!

Even as I write this now, I’m sitting with the front door open and all those familiar voices are continuing to serenade me. Crickets, katydids, and tree frogs. Even the screech owls. But not a single coyote. Aaaah. And there it is; it’s time to wrap this up. Donkey brays her say-so, and so it is.

The Sky Approaching the Tunnel – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-467)

Lemon Blueberry Poke Cake – Day 643

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In the pan – Photo: L. Weikel

Lemon Blueberry Poke Cake

Oh, the Lemon Blueberry Poke Cake I baked the other day is certifiably evil. You’ve all seen the photos from the night I baked it. And I’ve definitely received some requests for the recipe.

What I need to tell you is this: it’s even better after sitting in the refrigerator overnight!

Unexpected Source

Before I give you the links to the variety of recipes I used to create this masterpiece of mouthwatering summer goodness, you’ll never guess where this all got started.

Last Sunday (Karl’s birthday), we had no hot water. We’ve been having a weird issue with our furnace over the past several weeks. It just mysteriously shuts off and doesn’t come back on when it should to heat our water. Luckily for us, when we hit the emergency re-set button, it’s been firing back up.

Monday morning it happened again. Even though I was confident it would re-ignite if we hit the re-set again, let’s face it: this is an untenable situation. It’s all fine now, but not when it goes off in the middle of the night during the winter. So I called the company, Haly Oil, that maintains and provides service to our furnace.

I’ve become friendly with Renee, who basically seems to run the whole show in our local office, since March or April, when the pandemic first started gearing up and our furnace started acting up. As you might imagine, she was appalled that we’re still having trouble. But one thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I was telling her about the double icing chocolate cake I’d baked for Karl the day before.

That’s when she told me that her father’s birthday was this week as well (pretty sure it was the 12th), and she described for me the yummy cake she’d baked for him over the weekend too. When she described it, I asked her for the recipe, thinking I would do what I did and make it to commemorate Karl Daniel’s day.

Some Tweaks

The original recipe that Renee sent me is here.

Because I wanted to bake a vanilla cake from scratch (hey, I’m home; I might as well try), I looked up some recipes on the internet and found two from the same source. One is called “The Best Vanilla Cake I’ve Ever Had” and the other is called Favorite White Cake.

Both, as can be seen from the link address, are concoctions from the website Sally’s Baking Addiction.

For this first attempt, and to create what you see depicted in these photographs, I followed the “The Best Vanilla Cake I’ve Ever Had” recipe.

It. Is. Yummy.

In following the Lemon Blueberry Poke Cake recipe (by Lauren Miyashiro at delish.com), but shared by Renee, I tweaked it using organic whipped cream instead of ‘whipped topping.’ But pretty much everything else (except, of course baking the actual cake from scratch) I followed to a ‘t.’

Making Friends

All of this just goes to show the benefit of making friends wherever you find yourself. If it hadn’t been for Renee’s friendly attitude and willingness to share a most delicious recipe, I wouldn’t have been able to share this with you (and pig out over several very satisfying nights of decadent dessert-eating*).

See what you think! Next time I might give the “white cake” recipe a try. As you can see, the vanilla cake became quite dense after being refrigerated. Poor us. Ha!

*Karl approves and endorses this message.

Not a lot left – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-468)

Jinxed? – Day 642

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Fresh picked owl flowers – Photo: L. Weikel; Flowers: T. Dollar

Jinxed?

Last night I gave it yet another shot, making one more post 1:00 a.m. ‘Perseid run.’ Far exceeding the previous evenings, my view was vast and so expansive that it made me feel like I was reclined at the base of a star globe. But as bombarded with bazillions of stars and planets and satellites as I was, I wondered if perhaps this year I was jinxed.

Quite honestly, I think this is the first year I’ve ever experienced not seeing a single meteor during the Perseids meteor showers. Of course, I’m not counting the times I didn’t actually go outside to look. (That may seem obvious, but I don’t want it to sound like hyperbole when I say this is my first time without a single sighting. It’s actually pretty rare not to see at least one ‘shooting star’ in a summertime night sky. So…yeah. I’m feeling a little deprived.

Once again, though, I cannot rave enough about the overwhelming sense of tranquility I felt when I reclined on my blanket and pillow. Yes, I allowed myself that indulgence last night. The heck with it. You all know the…let’s call it ‘pensive’ mood I was in after writing my post for the evening. So I parked my car on the grass just off the side of the country road near my home where I go to sky gaze (the farmland that provides me with an extreme, unfettered view of the sky) and just allowed my eyes and soul to drink it all in.

Crystal Clarity

It was a really cool scenario, though, as I drove through the ‘tree tunnel’ toward my meteor-gazing destination. As my car emerged from the protection of a canopy of trees overarching the road, a layer of fog about four feet tall suddenly blanketed the land all around me. Regardless, I pulled my car over and spread out my blanket. I might not be able to see any deer or foxes or coyotes or other fauna that might be sharing the evening with me, but the view UP was crystal clear.

Curiously, especially since this was where Karl and I heard our pack of coyotes yipping away when we sought a glimpse of the Comet Neowise a couple weeks ago (another viewing fail), this night there was a blanket of silence accompanying that blanket of fog. Nary a cricket, nor a katydid – not even a single trill of a screech owl broke the silence.

The peace was glorious.

Mars

As I lay there allowing my vision to expand and grow soft so as to drink in as much of the cosmic real estate that I could, my attention kept being drawn to a noticeable (for its size)  orangey-red celestial being. Pretty sure it was Mars, I nevertheless whipped out my Sky Guide app and verified that yes, indeed, it was Mars.

I then followed the ecliptic as it arced across the sky and very clearly identified Jupiter and Saturn once again as well.

I’m sure I should be able to take much better photos of the night sky than I’m managing at the moment, but here is my photo of Mars from last night:

Mars – 13 August 2020; Photo: L. Weikel

As I take the time to reflect upon my last few forays into meteor-spotting, I guess I really shouldn’t consider myself jinxed – even if I didn’t see a single meteor this year. Maybe it was better for me not to feel like I’m jumping into hyperspace at the moment. (Although wouldn’t that be the coolest experience?!) Maybe the tranquility was the point. Maybe the silence was essential to helping me re-set.

One word to the wise should you choose to embrace this experience: spritz yourself with bug spray before you go. The high pitched eeeeeeeeeee of a mosquito’s voice as it seeks to plunge its needle-like proboscis into your tender flesh is a most unsavory interruption to your reverie.

(T-469)

Birthday – Day 641

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Blueberry-lemon birthday cake – Photo: L. Weikel

Birthday

Some of you may have caught on to the deeper meaning when I wished you a “Happy 13th of August” last night. In spite of the foundation upon which all of my posts are founded (my 1111 Devotion), I try not to be too maudlin about the life (and death) of my eldest son, Karl Daniel. But whether I mention it or not, August 13th will always be the anniversary of his birthday.

Every year is a little bit different. And it doesn’t progress in a linear fashion, believe me. If it did, I’d be breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that every single year would bring me just that little bit less sadness, just a slightly diminished tendency to wonder what his life would be like now, who he’d be, what he’d be doing in the world right now.

But life isn’t like that. Death isn’t like that. When it first hits you, especially as a parent enduring that freaking nightmare of losing a child (regardless of whether they’re 3 months, 3 years, or 30 years when they die) most of us feel we might very well lose our minds before ever coming to terms with the reality of losing our baby forever.

For most of us, though, the searing pain at first loss that we feel will never ease, never diminish (indeed, that we vow we’ll never let go of – for to lose that edge will somehow, we feel, lessen the importance of their life to both us and to the world) inexplicably does. And honestly, at least for me, it was involuntary. I did not want to lose that edge.

Life Goes On

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I wanted to wear that loss on my vest and claim it as a defining, debilitating, characteristic of my life. The exact opposite, as a matter of fact. I wanted the gaping hole in my heart that belongs to my eldest son to spur me on to helping others cope with their grief when faced with similar loss.

So as we’re told in lyrics and poems, life goes on. We rail against it, when the loss is fresh. We secretly damn the people who tell us ‘time heals all wounds’ – most of the ones who say that have never felt the sense of having a phantom limb haunting us that losing one of our children creates. They think losing a parent is the same thing.

It’s not.

They think losing a sibling is the same thing.

It’s not.

Forgiveness

But ultimately, we have to extend to the people around us the most exquisite (and sometimes hardest to come by) gift: forgiveness. Most are doing the best they can to comfort us at a time when we’re experiencing something that simply blows their minds. And at the same time, it’s incumbent upon us to extend that same olive branch of forgiveness to our very own selves.

Yes, eventually – even if we try really hard to keep it at the forefront and make our lives center around it – the nearly unbearable pain of losing our child will eventually withdraw into the background of our lives. It’s at once surprising, unsettling, sad, and a relief. And a little guilt-inducing as well.

If we really loved them, would we ever allow ourselves to lose that edge? It’s a question that has a hollow and unsatisfactory answer.

My Point

The point I started to make when I began this post was that you just never know when the grief is going to sneak up behind you and clobber you over the head.

Upon waking this morning I felt a genuine heaviness around my heart. I’d sensed Karl ‘around’ a couple days earlier, but didn’t particularly feel him today. When I did notice him a few days ago, it made me realize that his ‘visits,’ if you can even call them that, are much more infrequent nowadays. And while I can appreciate that this happens, and why, it nevertheless makes me sad.

So I decided to bake a cake. What the heck. For 30 years I’d made a point of baking (or procuring) two cakes within the span of one week, since his father’s birthday is only four days before my son’s.

Only this time I decided to make something totally different. A vanilla cake. (I’ve never made one of those before. Not even once!) And it would have blueberries and lemon going on to make it special and festive. I rationalized that this would be the type of cake I’d buy at my favorite bakery, Crossroads, and almost certainly did for not a few birthdays over the years.

So here it is. The fruit of my reminiscing about my son and celebrating what should have been his 39th birthday today.

Never assume that just because it’s been a bunch of years since the loss of a child that their memory and how much they are missed has diminished.

Looks sloppy, but tastes yummy – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-470)

Bummed Out – Day 640

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Weird Clouds Lurking – Photo: L. Weikel

Bummed Out

I’m not having any luck seeing Perseids this year. I may go out again tonight after I post this, and there’s still tomorrow night, too. But it just feels like I’m being thwarted by high, thin clouds that are just opaque enough to prevent me from seeing any meteors. I’m bummed out about that.

We did get a good walk in tonight, though. At first I didn’t think we’d get in a longer one since there were flash flood warnings earlier in the day. We decided to risk it, though. Thank goodness the oppressive humidity lightened just enough as we did a long walkabout to make it bearable – and then the sky actually became entertaining.

August Beauty – Photo: L. Weikel

I’m finding myself sitting here writing to you about the clouds we were oohing and ah-ing over as we walked this evening. I’ve deleted most of what I wrote. It would probably serve us all more if I just shared the photos I took.

The sky wore many masks today. Sometimes only a minute or two would go by and the tone and tenor of the entire world above our heads transformed.

August Beauty One Minute Later – Photo: L. Weikel

While there was plenty of entertainment playing out in the sky, there was a part of me that was a bit melancholy and distracted.

I find myself still feeling that way now. Sadly, those emotions generally serve to stunt my inspiration.

So I’m just going to share with you the many faces of the sky this afternoon and this evening, and hope that inspiration gives me another look tomorrow.

Have a wonderful 13th day of August.

Stunning – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-471)

Surprised Admiration – Day 639

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Photo: abcnews.go.com

Surprised Admiration

It’s not a stretch to figure out what the title of tonight’s post is referencing. When the announcement was made today that Joe Biden was selecting Kamala Harris as his running mate, I’d say my first reaction was a subdued, “Wow.” Not subdued because I was less than enthusiastic. My “wow” was quiet because it contained a surprised admiration that Biden had actually selected her.

There’s no question that she is absolutely qualified to both hold the position of vice president and step into the position of president should the need arise. But she has many other outstanding qualities that complement Biden and will combine with his strengths to create a formidable governing team. And boy, do we need a resurgence of good government.

Most of all, my “wow” was subdued because it surprised me. I was impressed with Biden’s self-confidence and maturity. And no, just because he’s 77 years old does not by any means translate into wisdom or maturity. Mere age alone does not confer self-confidence. Nor does it confer wisdom. And it sure as heck does not confer maturity.

Our Current President

Let’s face it. I don’t even need to write anything under this heading – it is self-explanatory. We’ve all been living (and dying) at the mercy of the whims of a person who lacks these very qualities that Joe Biden just exemplified in his choice of running mate.

The reason I was pleasantly surprised by Biden’s choice is precisely because so many men in his position (and yes, white men in particular, sad to say) would have been both intimidated by how roundly she scored points on him in that early debate and then vindictive as a result. Indeed, I seem to recall some relatively has-been male politicians (Ed Rendell springs to mind) recently being quoted as counseling Biden against choosing Kamala “because she was too ambitious” or “rubs people the wrong way.”

What a bunch of garbage. But when I heard that there were men, the Old Guard, so to speak, of the Democratic party weighing in on the danger of choosing a powerful, God-forbid ambitious woman, my heart sank. There it was again. That same old trope.

A Stellar Field

Let me be clear: I felt that the field of candidates from which Biden had to choose was extraordinary. And those candidates were all stellar in their own ways because he’d promised he would choose a woman as a running mate. And for ever (so far), especially in this country, for women to compete with men they’ve had to jump higher, be smarter, have thicker skin, be more creative, and do it all for less money. So I challenge anyone to honestly tell me they were surprised when it was obvious that the ten or so candidates he was vetting were all superlative candidates.

Given this state of affairs, he could not have made a poor choice. He could’ve made a safer choice – safer as far as his ego goes. He could’ve chosen someone thought to have a more deferential temperament. Or perhaps even more saliently (especially to some of the small men counseling him) he could’ve punished that uppity chick who chastised him on national tv using her own lived experience of being a child who benefited from the busing he failed to support.

Joy and Hope

After my initial, “Huh, wow,” response to hearing the news, I started watching the coverage of the selection on tv. The reactions expressed by so many commentators, activists, and politicians honestly made tears roll down my cheeks. For the first time in so long, I saw joy on people’s faces. I saw hope and heard a renewal of faith in the true nature of our country being expressed.

It felt like when we elected Barack Obama. For me at least, I was seeing an expression of unity and inclusion, a celebration of diversity and an expression of self-confidence that doesn’t require subservience to feel powerful. I was seeing an expression of our country and its values that so very many of us have yearned for and were perhaps beginning to despair of ever seeing again.

It’s overwhelming to consider how many people in our country feel invisible, disposable, voiceless, and worthless.

Which is why it was incredibly powerful to hear so many people interviewed this evening, including those who often do the reporting of our news say, “I feel seen.” Over and over, I witnessed the tears in their eyes. Saw the joy written all over their faces. Heard the hope tingeing their voices.

The election isn’t won yet. Not by a long shot. But the spontaneous expression of joy and hope I witnessed this evening was like a steady, yet gently soaking rainstorm on a vast landscape of parched cracked earth.

Photo: cbc.ca

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