Other than the occasional irreverent quip (or two… fine… or more), I don’t write about politics or religion here.
I probably don’t write about a lot of other things either, come to think of it… let me check.
Yep. It’s true.
I just searched my archives and I have never written about Tanzania, vulcanology, or pulp. Though…now that I think about it… I must say that ‘pulp’ could fall into the category of ‘religion’ because my family has strong and disparate opinions on the whole pulp/no pulp schools of thought when it comes to orange juice… and those opinions don’t seem to be based on science. But I digress.
I’m better at putting up with Marshal Dillon Dingle’s maniacal prophylactic barking at what might be out there in the night, than I am at the barking heads on the news.
And, though I love discussing ideas and philosophies and kicking around various views on issues – including fiery ones, I back away (figuratively, if not literally) from those who need to should on me… who feel the need to tell me how I should interpret, or should feel about any given topic. The implication that I’m bad for thinking this or choosing that which my fellow human does not… but good if I agree with them (even better if I then should all over everyone else who doesn’t agree with us!).
Just not my style.
The idea of friendships, not just Facebook friendships, but actual friendships ending, or family relationships fracturing over these topics slays me. And it reminds me that the ability to agree to disagree… not just saying the words to end a discussion, but truthfully and without judgement… is an ability to be cultivated, and cherished, in oneself and others.
My right to freely arrive at my own point of view, and to express it, is one I don’t take lightly. And to vote? Oh man. My right to vote has been handed down to me through the works and fears and joys and agonies and victories and sacrifices of fellow humans gone long before I ever got here. My respect for it – for them – can bring, and has brought, tears to my eyes.
Last night, I found myself completely at peace, knowing that today I would go and cast my vote… this respectful nod to history within my control, the outcome not so much.
But here’s the thing.
Though we live with the consequences – good and bad – of any choice upon which we are privileged to vote, we do not have to take the outcome personally, or blame, or fight with, or ‘I told you so’ our ways into the days or weeks or years that follow.
I nodded off knowing that I would continue to live and love and be inspired and find wonder in the presents of each new day to come, come what may.
And woke up grateful that my soul tucked my ego into bed, and encouraged it to sleep late.
Thanks for readin’.
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