It's been a quiet year for me. Looking back, the blog post I thought I wrote over the summer, I wrote in January. I posted in April and after that, nothing. I knew it had been awhile but nothing? Ten months? It took me by surprise. A quiet year, as I said, though if you could read the posts in my head, you'd know I've been busy. But, as I wrote years ago, "thinking writing" is -- surprise, surprise! -- not the same AS writing.
But here I am.
This "new year" we are about to ring in at midnight is arbitrary. Like so many of us in academia, we tend to agree that the Jewish New Year is a better marker. But like all rituals, they offer the possibility of both meaninglessness and engagement. Today, I engage.
I saw a Facebook post this week with the question: What gave you hope in 2022?
It made me stop. It was a weird year, but really, they all are. Just weird in different ways. For the last five or six years, I've approached 12/31 with a fatalistic attitude. I know some use the image of a dumpster fire for the year passing, eager to get to this new date that will make all the difference. But I laughed. WHY would a different year change anything? The freight train of hate that began barreling down the tracks in 2016 seemed to have boundless fuel; it poisoned me. It brought out the worst of my cynicism.
You may never have seen that side of me. That's because I work to rein it in.
As my Dad used to say when he would go to bed at 9 on December 31st, "Tomorrow is just another day" which is to say: It's not magic.
But there can be something to stopping and taking stock. The question: what gave you hope in 2022 made me realize that I had an answer for the question.
For the last year, the house at the end of my street has had multiple MAGA flags flying, including that included the words: Make liberals cry again. Think about that. Think about the raw fury and those bullying words, flapping against a fence.
I am a Unitarian Universalist. Our First Principle is the "inherent worth and dignity of all people". I struggled. I still struggle. The best I could do was to pass by with my dog and not encourage him to do his business there, in front of their house.
By the evening of November 7th, I surrendered to the exhaustion of anxiety. I went to bed, offering up Buddhist Metta meditations. The next morning, I avoided the listening to the radio. Bad news would find me, I figured. Why rush it? That red tide was going to end democracy. It's what most of the pundits were saying.
When I got to the office, co-workers were smiling. The early news was encouraging, and Maura Healy had made history. By the afternoon and evening, the truth revealed itself: most of the MAGA candidates were losing. Predictions were wrong. Young people came out to vote, motivated in record numbers.
I was astonished. I still am. I remember my Dad telling me that in politics, the pendulum swings back and forth. That's just how it works. In my life, that's been pretty damned predictable, especially in midterms. Except this year, the pendulum didn't. Yes, the House has flipped but only by a very small margin. And not to put too fine a point on it but the reports about the budget bill being passed seemed to happen only because there were politicians who met in the middle and made compromises. Is it perfect? No. Is everyone happy? GOD, no. But I think the spirit of John McCain is smiling.
So this, my friends, is my long answer: the midterms gave me hope.
I am not a person who does resolutions on New Year's Eve; I am a believer of life-long changes which mean a commitment, not a laundry list.
But today, I DO make this one resolution to you. I resolve to do better. I resolve to not sit in my silence. What I also know is that in the darkness of keeping it in, cynicism breeds. By drawing myself out and engaging with you -- though blog, through conversation -- we connect and share our pain and our vulnerability. We can have hope and we can make a better world.
Whatever you do tonight and the rest of the year: I send you hope.
Peace
-Leslie
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