Walk, Trot, Canter, Gallop: On We Go!

Okay, I am climbing back on my horse, even though I feel as though my hair is on fire. Even though I don’t actually have a horse, and I don’t know how to ride horses in any case. Even though I am pretty sure riding a horse when one’s hair is on fire is a bad idea. I’m climbing back into the saddle anyway. Off I go.

Bear with me. This post describes my way of picking myself back up after searing fury and deep worry. Although I mention politics, I’m headed for my “one good thing” so that I can maintain my sanity and perseverance. I need those qualities because the road ahead is long and full of pitfalls. Just to maintain momentum — or to stay in the saddle — I’m cultivating three good things at the moment. I need extra, given the heightened sense of anxiety and dread so many, including me, are feeling.

This has been a disastrous week for democracy in America. The Supreme Court’s ruling in the ironically titled court case Donald J. Trump, Petitioner, versus The United States of America obliterated a nearly 250-year-old democracy by setting the President above the law and, in essence, establishing a king as ruler.

Oh, come on, some say. Democracy hasn’t ended. We can still vote! Yeah, well, they can vote in Russia, too.

Many people far smarter and more knowledgeable than I are dissecting the implications of Trump. v. the U.S. I leave it to them to reveal and interpret our new reality. My adding to their chorus will not help. What I hope may help is to provide some sense of both relief and empowerment as we make our way forward. Writing about the following three good things is helping me, at the very least, and I guess that is something. Maybe you will find these words helpful, too.

First (and this may seem obvious, but it’s something I often forget): For basic relief, I try to find ways to enjoy beauty and humor. Paying attention to such things elevates my spirits and increases my energy. One blog I read, Whirlwings, focuses on the small, intricate, amazing world of the author’s backyard, which is replete with natural beauty. She writes mostly — but not solely — about birds. She includes photographs, videos, and commentary that is sensitive and often humorous. Whirlwings helps me to find small moments of rest and reminds me to seek out beauty in my own corner of the universe. Here is her most recent post as of this writing: https://whirlwings.blog/2024/07/03/dewdrops/

That kind of blog might not be your cup of tea. But something will make you laugh. Something will make you smile. Something will bring you joy. Finding something restorative is the key.

Second, I have been thinking about an old wisdom story. I have seen it written in numerous places, but the first time I ever encountered this story, someone was simply telling it. So, let me tell it to you now — more or less the way I heard it, but with my own embellishments. That’s the way it is with wisdom stories —they change a bit with each telling.

Long, long ago, a humble farmer planted and harvested his land with the help of a sturdy and steady mare to pull his plow and a strong son to assist him. He planted and tended his crops well, and his harvests were bountiful. People said, “Oh, how lucky you are to have such a fine farm, such a reliable horse, and such a devoted son!”

“Maybe,” replied the farmer. And he continued farming.

One morning, the farmer woke up to discover his mare had vanished. No matter where he looked, no matter how loudly he called, he could not find her. She was simply gone. “How will you pull your plow? How will you harvest your fields?” the people fretted. “What terrible luck this is for you!”

“Maybe,” replied the farmer. And he continued farming.

A few days later the mare returned, a handsome, powerful stallion trotting beside her. “Now you have two horses to help you tend your fields! Now your mare will have foals!” exclaimed the people. “How lucky you are!”

“Maybe,” replied the farmer. And he continued farming.

A few days later, the farmer’s son climbed atop the stallion and attempted to ride. The stallion threw him. The young man broke his leg in the fall, rendering him unable to tend the fields. “Oh, how awful,” cried the people! “Such terrible luck, right when you need your son’s help to get the harvest in!”

“Maybe,” replied the farmer. And he continued farming.

A few days later, the emperor’s army marched into the village and forced all the young men to join their ranks and to head off to war. The farmer’s son, who could not walk, was spared. “Oh how lucky you are!” the people exclaimed. “Your son doesn’t have to go to war! He will be safe!”

“Maybe,” replied the farmer. And he continued farming.

I have always loved that folktale because it reminds me that the story is continually unfolding, even when the conclusion seems obvious. As such, the story holds out endless possibilities. I will not minimize the dire straits America has now entered. America may not right its course in my lifetime. I cannot predict the immediate future, and I certainly have no clue what the distant future will hold. But I do know America’s story will keep developing, chapter after chapter. Just like the farmer who persevered in good times and bad, I can do my best to hold steady, to keep doing the work that calls me, to continue to use my particular skills as best I can to help usher in change for the good. What I do and say now may have some impact on how the story spools out in the future.

But there is one aspect of that old wisdom story that troubles me. Namely, why did the people simply wring their hands when the farmer’s fortunes had fallen? Why didn’t they offer to help? Likewise, why was the farmer locked into his own little silo? Why wasn’t there a community of people who would help each other in good times and, especially, in bad? That’s where I want to head for my third good thing.

My third good thing is simply this: We have each other.

Once during the 4th of July Sunday service, I read the entire Declaration of Independence aloud, just as it would have been read from pulpits and in village squares when it was first published nearly 250 years ago. By today’s standards, the Declaration is long — over 1300 words. It would have taken me around 13 minutes to read it aloud. But that was worth doing, because the Declaration painted a vivid and oft-forgotten picture of both our founders’ vision and the long, looooong list of the king’s transgressions that propelled the founders to imagine and create something new. (Here is the full text: https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/declaration-transcript.)

The Declaration of Independence ends with these stirring words: “we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.” At the time, not everyone would make or support such a pledge. At the time, not everyone in the Colonies supported independence from Britain. But enough did, and they worked hard, together, to achieve it.

At the time, not everyone agreed what the foundation of the new nation should be, but the founders hammered it out. Their process wasn’t smooth or easy, but eventually they agreed to something quite extraordinary, despite its imperfections. Today we stand on their shoulders.

We can call on the verbiage of the United States Constitution, which reminds us that we are “We, the People.” We, the People, have each other. We, the People, have the dreams of the ages behind us, and the courage of our forebears to guide us. We, the People, can find our way to each other. We, the People, can forge groups that will foster freedom and democracy. We, the People, can add our personal strengths and creativity to the larger good. Together, we are strong, and we have power. We, the People.

You know, I don’t even know how to saddle a horse. There are bits and stirrups and reins and things, but I haven’t a clue how to put them all together and then to mount the beast. But somebody knows, and they can help me. I will help them in return, because I am sure there is something I can contribute that they lack.

Also, somebody needs to turn on a hose and point it at my head. It just doesn’t do to walk around with my hair on fire. In return, I promise I will turn the hose on for you when you have flames you need dousing. We, the People, are better together.

Happy Fourth of July.

Love,

Sylvia