Chop Wood, Carry Water 11/6
"The pain you feel is because of what you love."
Hi, all.
I’m flying back from North Carolina after four long and wonderful days of knocking doors and one long and awful election night. I have discovered you can cry on a plane and no one will ask questions. At the gate before the flight, too. And in the car rental place. It is a surreal thing, indeed.
Needless to say, we didn’t carry North Carolina. We didn’t carry much of anything that we hoped for. To say that I’m devastated is an understatement.
I’m not sure I can summon many words of solace right now, but I can do one thing for sure, and that is to thank you. Thank you for who you are. Thank you for all you’ve done. Thank you for throwing yourself into this election—the most important one of our lifetimes—with everything you had. I don’t yet understand what happened or why—I don’t think anyone does completely—but I do know that it wasn’t for lack of hard work on our part.
Beyond that I am too tired and grief stricken to say much.
I will, however, pass on a Rebecca Solnit post that I found helpful—I’m assuming it was from this morning.
And then I’ll give you information on a couple of gatherings you may want to join.
First the quote:
They want you to feel powerless and to surrender and to let them trample everything and you are not going to let them. You are not giving up, and neither am I. The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving. You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what, and right now good friends and good principles are worth gathering in. Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. Remember in this tide of hate what love is. The pain you feel is because of what you love.
The Wobblies used to say don't mourn, organize, but you can do both at once and you don't have to organize right away in this moment of furious mourning. You can be heartbroken or furious or both at once; you can scream in your car or on a cliff; you can also get up tomorrow and water the flower pots and call someone who's upset and check your equipment for going onward.
A lot of us are going to come under direct attack, and a lot of us are going to resist by building solidarity and sanctuary. Gather up your resources, the metaphysical ones that are heart and soul and care, as well as the practical ones.
People kept the faith in the dictatorships of South America in the 1970s and 1980s, in the East Bloc countries and the USSR, women are protesting right now in Iran and people there are writing poetry. There is no alternative to persevering, and that does not require you to feel good. You can keep walking whether it's sunny or raining. Take care of yourself and remember that taking care of something else is an important part of taking care of yourself, because you are interwoven with the ten trillion things in this single garment of destiny that has been stained and torn, but is still being woven and mended and washed.
And the gatherings are here—I’ll be at tomorrow’s:
Tonight at 8PM ET: Women’s March Election Healing and Grounding Space - an especially good resource for anyone who wasn’t able to attend our briefings.
Also tonight at 8PM ET Robert Hubbell will be going live with Jess Piper. Not sure how that works but if you’re a subscriber I’m sure you’ll get a notification.
Tomorrow: Post-Election Mass Call with MoveOn - lays out concrete actions people can take this week and thoughts on the path forward.
I’m sure there will be others.
OK, all. I appreciate your emails and DMs and apologize for not responding to every one. I am OK. I am gutted; I am angry; I am baffled; I am horrified; I am nauseated. But I am OK. My family and friends are here for me and will continue to be. I am endeavoring to be here for them, too. No one is unscathed in this moment—we must hold each other up as best we can.
One thing I do know: I am not giving up.
I may take a day or two off, but I’ll be back and, should you care to stay here, we’ll get back to doing what we do best—bending the arc of justice towards a better world in every way we can.
Jess
Jess, I want you to know how much you have done for me since discovering your substack. You have been so instrumental to my renewed hope that people want better.
When I was young, I was nearly swept up in libertarian anti democracy propaganda; it was so bad I actually married someone who loved Ted Cruz and would later become an all out sov cit when I was just 22. I grew up poor, very poor, and happened to be chronically online very young and realized how bad neoliberalism was, but I was so close to taking the populist response to that horrible truth.
When I left that man and that way of thinking, I found HCR, and then you, I realized that so many people hadn't just given up when it all seemed so bleak in 2016 (just one week after my fateful wedding!!). I realized that I wasn't alone in wanting better for my parents, my friends, and everyone who has been gutted by this ongoing Reagan era of existence. My faith in America is deeply hurt right now, and I hope those who voted for him or abstained from voting get their just desserts. That's not nice of me but it's true.
But you, Jess, have done so much to help democracy. I hope my nieces and nephews get to read your name in a history book someday. Thank you so much for everything. We will continue on. The sun will rise tomorrow.
Thank you for everything. You changed my life. I wrote and called and screamed and begged my Republican representative here in Ulster County NY, all because of you, and guess what, HE LOST. Yes!!! Mark Molinaro lost! In Ulster County, NY we did great. And it was because of you and our wonderful volunteers. So to say you did a stellar job is an understatement- you did amazing! And we will not let up. We will protect the most vulnerable, love one another and stand up and show courage. You’re a star!