Lighthouses in Dark Times
Today is November 15th. Like you dear readers, I’ve now had over a week to wrestle with the profound sadness we felt after learning the shocking news that our lighthouse, our beckon of hope, our brilliant star Kamala Harris will not become America’s first Madame President—at least not yet. For now we must endure a period of chaos and darkness. That is our new reality, and it is going to take all of us to save our democracy.
The day after the election, my friend Anne Deaton mirrored my feelings when she wrote—
“If I were not so numb, I would say I feel gut-punched, badly shaken, heart-broken, disillusioned and emotionally undone. But I am numb. That doesn’t mean I will not muster the fortitude to move forward with civility to actively pursue all the values, policies, and visions for a just America that I held yesterday; but I will rest today.”
Like Anne, for the duration of that horrible, terrible, incredibly awful day after, I allowed myself to mourn. To be sad, sorrowful, gloomy, disappointed, incredulous and angry. To plumb the depths of despair I felt to my core. But not wanting to be alone, I began to share my feelings with you. Not knowing how to deal with the terrible reality that half of this country we dearly love does not believe in. To hang on to the hope and promise that Kamala offered us. All of US.
On Wednesday, November 6, she addressed the nation in what I heard as not so much a concession speech, but rather as much as a continuation of her hopes and a challenge to continue to fight when all seems dark in the months and four years ahead—
"There's an adage a historian once called a law of history, true of every society across the ages. The adage is, only when it is dark enough can you see the stars. I know many people feel like we are entering a dark time, but for the benefit of us all, I hope that is not the case. But here's the thing, America, if it is, let us fill the sky with the light of a brilliant, brilliant billion of stars.
The light of optimism, of faith, of truth and service.
And may that work guide us even in the face of setbacks toward the extraordinary promise of the United States of America. I thank you all. Make God bless you. And may God bless the United States of America.”
That evening before dark, I took a solitary walk up our quiet road to sort out my feelings. I’d been up since 3:30 a.m. when I learned the sickening news on my iPhone. From that terrible, awful moment on, there was no more sleep for many of us as America’s new reality began to sink in. We were afraid for our country and the world. We needed to share our feelings but count not yet find the words to speak.
Almost daily, my friend Larry Marchant and I share thoughts via emails. That morning, we both agreed that for now, no more TV or social media. Our focus will instead be on reading a wide range of books, making time to connect with nature, sharing ideas and information with close friends and focusing on caring for the beloved spouses in our two lives.
Shared thoughts with author David Collins and poet Walter Bargen reminded me that writers and artists are humanity’s creative lighthouses in dark times. To help us cope, my friend Pat Fennell suggested we both read The Universe in Verseby Maria Popova with illustrations by Ofra Amit—a book of illustrated essays that presents a celebration of the human search for truth and beauty through the lenses of science and poetry. Together, they might help wake us to a "reality aglow with wonder."
When I’m at the Lodge with Kit, I read aloud each evening from Louis L’Amour’s memoir The Education of a Wandering Man from a copy that was part of my father’s library. I recommend you read it as well as one of this prolific writer’s last novels, The Last of the Breed. Both works are an education in dealing with personal struggles and finding the will to survive dark times.
The morning after the election I read an article by Tom Nichols who spelled out our political reality in his “Atlantic Daily” newsletter (newsletters@theAtlantic.com)—
“An aspiring fascist is the president-elect, again, of the United States Trump’s minions will continue his assault on democracy, the rule of law, and the Constitution.”
Nichols’ column ends with this message. “You have every right to be appalled, saddened, shocked, and frightened. Soon however, you should dust yourself off, square your shoulders, and take a deep breath. Americans who care about democracy have work to do.”
I love America, and will never forget Kamala’s speech about the billions and billions of brilliant stars that represent us, our beautiful imperfect democracy, and our constant fight to save it. For centuries, stars formed celestial maps for ancient mariners and caravanserais traversing vast seas and deserts. Today, they are lighthouses offering hope as we navigate our way in the uncertain times that lay ahead.
