Tides of people spoke on November 8th.  A groundswell of angry, ignored human beings let their voices be heard that day.  In reaction, another wave of people answered back.  We can’t help but hear everyone now.  Such turbulence.  One wave after another.

The Women’s March was the happiest I’ve felt since the election.  Yet I found myself, in the middle of it, blaming myself — my own complacency, my own inaction.  I was asleep, naive.  I should have done more before the election.  Still, I wonder if it would have done any good.  Maybe we all needed to hear the alarm in our own voices.

It seems that what’s happening now is a symptom — an outer manifestation of some larger human concern.  It’s very noisy and crowded and confusing.  We’re all speaking at once.   Any of our voices can be heard globally now— but it’s so hard to listen, to hear the truth, in all of this chaos.

I feel compelled to say something too, though I hardly know what.  I have groped for these few words.  I’m awake now.  I’ll engage in this conversation with all of the courage I can muster.  I won’t go back to sleep.