For those of you who’ve been grumbling about 2021 and the prospect of 2022, I want to offer another perspective. Because despite our cynicism about the state of the world, and even in the midst of cultural and climate challenges, there have been blessings, and there has been progress. Let’s not lose track of this. Our vision may be clouded by fatigue, but there’s a baby in the bathwater, and it’s ours.

Yesterday, on a zoom call with friends, we began with our usual a five-minute meditation, to simply “arrive” in the present moment.  As soon as I settled in, however, I found that I could not “empty” my mind, because my heart was overflowing with gratitude.

If you haven’t read Heather Cox Richardson’s year end summary of events on Dec. 30^th 2021, please do. She went over the accomplishments and errors of our new administration. I’ll post a link here, so you can look at it. But my sense of gratitude and optimism goes beyond politics. And it obligates me to respond.

I think the hardest part of 2021 was watching the fabric of our society being ripped apart. It wasn’t just people in government, it was our neighbors and family members, our school boards, and our first responders. We’re going to have to work hard to repair this, to re-weave the fabric, in order to bring compassion and public safety and human dignity back together as a society. And that’s a lot to do.

But IMHO 2021 was a vast improvement over 2020. This gives me a glimmer of hope and a sense of momentum that I haven’t felt for years. Here are a few examples for those of us in the United States:

First, we got a humane new president, who finally put together a plan for addressing the pandemic, for getting people vaccinated, and a lot of people DID get vaccinated, including children.  It’s not perfect, but we didn’t even have a plan before 2021.
We pulled out of Afghanistan, even though a LOT of mistakes were made.
We rejoined the Paris Climate Agreement.
We passed the Infrastructure Act.
We passed the American Rescue Plan, which brought millions of children out of poverty.
We began to reunite children with their families, children who should never have been separated in the first place.  That continues to make my blood boil, but we’re starting to pull things together.

And then there are the multitude of unforeseen consequences that sprang from us being so isolated. We found new ways to connect to the bigger world, through Zoom and other platforms. We started meeting people we never would have met before, because taking classes online gave us a way to find kindred spirits around the globe. We found new ways to perform, worship, study, and engage with each other socially without leaving our homes. Despite our isolation, we united during this time. We adapted and improved our artistry. Our social networks grew. We were able to express the things that mattered, and let go (for the most part) of things that were broken and unfixable. We began to plant seeds of hope, to develop plans for a better future, for economic and social justice, and for improved technology. We even witnessed new improvements in electric vehicles and space exploration.

Although we’re tired, our sense of justice has not diminished, and our need to defend the rule of law to include ALL people has grown stronger, not weaker. We’ve begun to see that this baby is ours, and we’re going to need to protect her, feed her, and wrap her in a strong, soft fabric that we ourselves must weave together, because she’s worth it.

I know there’s a lot of crap to be upset about.

First, we’re still in a pandemic, and people are still being stupid about it, as though it were not real, and as though their personal comfort and preferences outweighed the good of the whole. The rest of us know this is bullshit, and we’re sick and tired of those who prolong this situation by denying it.  We wish we were more like New Zealand.

Second, we’re also sick and tired of the big lie, and of the actors and instigators of the insurrection. In addition, we’re impatient with how long justice is taking to jail or punish those who have tried and continue to try to overthrow our government. These may include some of our neighbors or family members as well as the usual suspects. We’re embarrassed by them, ashamed, angry, and tired.

Third, the climate crisis is scaring the bejesus out of us, with wildfires, tornados, floods, snowstorms, drought, and devastation to our communities, our sacred and wild places, our wildlife, crops, animals, and economy.

Fourth, Fifth, and so on, we’re pissed off that anyone is messing with our voting rights, our reproductive rights, the rights of people seeking political asylum at our borders, and we’re also pissed off about the crisis our healthcare workers are in, because they’ve been coping with a relentless and preventable nightmare for the past two years.
I get all of that.

And I am grateful because I am starting to see the fabric coming together again.  Like a beautiful woven scarf. The threads of which are acts of kindness and reconnection. They are kind words and generous actions, people showing up to do the work, people listening to each other, people saying yes. This is not a flimsy fabric: it’s a warm woolen blanket on a winter night, it’s a parachute, a sail, and a tablecloth set before us on the table. It is social and climate justice work, a vigil, a meal, a phone call. It is the practice of law and the letters we write to hold people accountable. It is acts of courage and determination and words of encouragement. I’m incredibly grateful to be starting the year 2022, and to recognize that this baby is ours to care for.

Thank you for all that you do, and please keep up the good work: keep working for justice, keep writing the letters, keep calling, keep showing up. Let your voice be heard! Keep writing, keep weaving, and especially, keep loving.  We are the ones who will carry this forward.

p.s. Thank a nurse today.

https://heathercoxrichardson.substack.com/p/december-30-2021?r=gjvdn&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email