Way Showers

I went to an “event” yesterday and I actually woke up feeling like I have things to write about. When you actually go and do things, you end up having stories to experience and then, stories to tell. Life felt a little “normal” again, for the first time in a long time, yesterday.

Yesterday the “event” that I attended, was my daughter’s first high school tennis match, of the season. And she won it. But it was a complete nail biter. She was down 3-6, came back 7-6, but then she and her very worthy competitor, ended up tying 8-8. They had to play a tie breaker, which my entirely exhausted daughter ended up winning, 11-9. My nails are bloody nubs. When the match was finally over, I was reminded of the author Glennon Doyle’s most famous quote, “We can do hard things.” I told my daughter what I liked best about her victory, was that she will always have the memory of it, in her back pocket. When she is struggling with any difficult situation in her life, she can think back to this moment, and know for a fact, that she is full of fortitude, perseverance, and calmness under pressure. She can do hard things. She has proven it to herself.

Yesterday’s tennis match wasn’t exactly “normal.” We have good winter weather here in Florida, therefore the matches are held outside. There was no communal snack table, no hugging, no high fives, nor any handshakes after the matches. Each competing duo was handed a fresh can of balls before their games. I was starkly reminded that it was during tennis season last year, when the reality of the coronavirus pandemic was truly setting in for all of us. At the last high school tennis match which I attended (in March of 2020), the coach told the players that the rest of the season had been cancelled. He also told them, that after spring break, they were not likely coming back to school. Unfortunately, he was right.

While I was at the match yesterday, I also partook in one of my other vices – eavesdropping. I have mentioned on the blog before that I like to eavesdrop. I am not proud of that fact, but I own it. As I was watching my daughter play, I overhead a group of high school girls talking. One girl said, “I have this condition called ‘anxiety’.” That statement started a chorus of statements: “Anxiety! Oh yes, I have that! My therapist says I have that, too. I hate anxiety. I can’t sleep! I can’t drive.”

Wow. At that moment I wanted to run over and group hug all of them. But of course, I couldn’t do it, because 1.) Covid and 2.) I was eavesdropping, which is a rude and hurtful thing to do. So, I just sat in my deserved little cloud of sadness, and I reflected a little bit. And I thought about the blog that I was going to write today.

I would like to pretend that these girls’ anxiety issues were all concerning this awful pandemic, which has a lot of us people, all wound up in tight little balls, these days, but I would be lying to myself. Quite honestly, I am sure that I could have overheard that conversation, at any time during all of the years which my children have been in high school, starting around the year 2010. Three of my middle son’s classmates committed suicide in high school. My daughter’s class just lost a classmate to suicide a couple of months ago. I know for a fact that my own children experience anxiety. I’ve witnessed it, first hand.

I believe life is mostly meant to be savored and enjoyed. I truly do. But do I live that? Am I an example of that? Do I model a life that is mostly “peace and joy”? Do I take any responsibility for my own peace and joy, or do I act as if I am a victim of circumstance? These are hard questions. The answers are hard to face sometimes.

Over the years, the women before us have fought hard for the rights which we women have today, such as the right to vote, to serve in the military, and to become vice president of the United States. It is easy to take these gifts for granted. In our “Declaration of Independence”, we were all promised the right to “the pursuit of happiness.” The women before us, worked hard and tirelessly, to make sure that we women had the equal right to “the pursuit of the happiness.” Are we doing our part in that quest?

I believe that happiness is a by-product of what we do. Is what I am doing on a daily basis bringing me happiness? Do my relationships with the others in my life, bring me happiness? Does my relationship with myself bring me happiness? Am I living to my own standards, or am I trying to live to the impossible standards of “fake world” as depicted on social media? Do I have a strong connection with my spirituality, a faith that makes me feel whole, not one that separates me from others with the sense that I am “holier than thou”?

Why are these questions important? They are important because I am a model to my daughter, and I am a model to your daughters and to your granddaughters, and to that beautiful group of girls, discussing, in earnest, their shared condition of anxiety. Kids listen to what we do, not what we say. Kids are excellent at honing in on hypocrites. After raising four almost grown children, and having made many an eloquent lecture (that I myself, was pretty impressed with), I learned that those loquacious words fell mostly on deaf ears, especially if I wasn’t walking my talk.

What are we modeling to the women of the future, friends? If I am honest, that group of girls, could have easily been me, and any one of my group of friends, in any of my various stages of my life. And that’s okay. It’s good to have friends to lean on for support. But it is also good to have friends to savor life with. It is good to have friends to laugh with, and to sit with, in awe of the pure beauty of each other, our friendships, and of the incredible, nature all around us. What are we modeling to the women of the future? “Don’t feel anxiety, girls, but I just changed my outfit fifteen times, because I feel so insecure about how I look. Don’t feel anxiety, girls, but it is important that you look lovely, have a great job, raise amazing kids (because if they aren’t amazing, it is all your fault), and sustain a romantic, exciting, successful marriage through it all. And if any of these areas of life are faltering, I judge myself mercilessly. But please don’t feel anxiety, girls. Seriously, life is fun, once you are doing a perfect job at getting good grades at school, getting into a good college with an athletic scholarship, landing a cute boyfriend who treats you well, and still being able to fit into your skinny jeans. Then, you can be just like “me.” Isn’t life fun? Why do you have anxiety, girls?”

Our daughters, our nieces, our granddaughters, our friends’ daughters will learn to have less anxiety, when we are the way showers of life lived with less anxiety. Our daughters will practice self-care, self-acceptance, and self-love, when we are the way showers of self-care, self-acceptance and self-love. Our daughters, our women of the future, will learn to have meaningful, purposeful, interesting lives of love and wonder and peace and calm, when we show them that this is possible. Our young women of the future will learn to love and to savor themselves, and to savor the very act of just experiencing life, when we teach them that they are lovable just because of who they are, not for what they do. When we show our girls, that life is a wonderful journey to be experienced in awe, in hope, in joy, in peace, and in exhilaration, our example gives them permission to live life the way it was meant to be lived. Will they still experience some anxiety? Of course. We all will. Anxiety is a part of life. But it can be a small footnote. Anxiety can mostly be experienced as a flutter in our stomachs, as a sign of exciting things to come. And let’s remember, when we are living in the fullness of the gift of just experiencing the astonishing miracle of living a human life on Earth, anxiety is easily noticed and then it is just as easily let go, as nothing more than a passing sensation.

Think of a young woman whom you love with all of your heart. Think of how joyful you want this young woman to feel, most days of her life. What does that look like? Do want her to think that she has to have a Louis Vuitton purse, work in a job which she hates, to make the money to purchase that purse, have her stay in toxic relationships that make her feel terrible, just for the sake of having relationships, and to spend hours of her precious life, photo shopping her real life into a fake online picture, to make her life appear “perfect”? Is this what we believe will bring our future young women happiness? What are we modeling to the women of the future, friends? Let’s choose to be the way showers of the wisdom we have obtained. Love and happiness is an inside job. Life is mostly meant to be enjoyed. Savor life. You don’t have to win at it. There is nothing “to win.” Life and love is given to you freely. Happiness is yours, as a by-product of doing and experiencing what uniquely brings you joy. You are an important piece of this tapestry called Life, and so is everyone else. You know this fact. I know this fact. Let’s live it. Let’s be the way showers to our young women. Let’s make the path easier and lighter and brighter for our young women, as it was made easier for us, by the mighty women who came before us. Let’s let anxiety become a barely noticeable footnote, in the otherwise amazing adventure of living Life. It will be good for our future girls. It will be good for us. Let’s be purposeful in our duty. Let’s be Way Showers.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Broken Crayons

“Trauma breaks you into pieces. Healing teaches you broken crayons still color.” – Inner Practioner

I don’t think there is anyone on Earth, who can say that this coronavirus situation hasn’t caused them any amount of pain and trauma. If there is such a person, they are either in deep denial, or a complete sociopath. Even if your own life has been relatively unaffected, it still breaks one’s heart to see the news stories of others who have lost loved ones, to this disease.

So with the assumption that my readers are people of feelings and empathy, I am going to go with the idea that we all have suffered some amount of trauma, concerning the coronavirus. It’s okay to admit that you have undergone some trauma. In fact, the only way to heal from any kind of trauma, is to admit to yourself, that it actually happened in the first place. That is usually the hardest part. If you keep trying to artificially scab over, or put a band-aid on a festering wound, it won’t heal properly. You’ve got to dig deep into the wound, pull out all the growing infection, and administer the correct daily medicine, for the pain to properly heal. This is what allows the trauma to be a thing (or a scar) of the past, and not an ongoing, unconscious driver that negatively affects elements of your every day life and relationships.

I think that the reason why a lot of people choose denial, versus dealing with their trauma, is two-fold. First, people think that it is strong to gut through situations, keeping a stiff upper lip. Somewhere along the way, we got the strange notion that admitting that you have a problem, makes you weak. How messed up is that! It is the opposite of strength, to stay in denial about a situation that has caused you pain. Still, we often choose to stay in denial because we fear that if we squarely face everything about how a certain trauma has affected us, we are afraid that we will fall apart at the seams, and stay stuck forever. And that is the second reason, why we keep our traumas, unfortunately, all bottled up.

When we finally get brave enough to look at our traumas honestly, and with sincere acceptance, that is when the real strength and healing begins. That is when we fully understand that broken crayons are still able to make the same vivid colors and artwork that they did before. And you know what else? Typically broken crayons end up being stronger than when they were whole. They aren’t as fragile. It is much harder to break a small piece of a crayon, than a long, elegant, fresh crayon, just coming out of the box. Also broken crayons recognize themselves in the other broken pieces, and that is where the truest compassion arises, giving the artwork of life, an even deeper depth of color, and meaning, and emotion, and joint, mass strength.

What’s a little broken in you, since the pandemic started? Has the pandemic triggered old, unhealed traumas in you? Have you allowed yourself to shed some cleansing tears? Have you reached out to others for support? Have you allowed yourself to be a little broken, realizing that even the most “perfect crayons” have little imperfections and will wear down a little bit, over the years? (Remember that the shrinking down of a crayon, comes from love and use, over the years. Everyone knows the favorite crayon in the box. It is the one crayon that is barely there, from being so useful and loved so much. It’s the “Velveteen Rabbit” of crayons.) What if, right this very minute, you had your favorite crayon in front of you, in your hand? You know the one. Your favorite crayon is that “go-to color” that you always looked for in that big, old Crayola 64 box, and you always tried to incorporate it somewhere in every one of your “masterpieces”. My favorite Crayola crayon was called “Burnt Sienna”. Now, what if, right now, you took your favorite crayon between your fingers and you broke it like the “Karate Kid”? (Don’t pretend like you never did that. Or at least, don’t pretend that you never witnessed that naughty boy in class who you secretly had a crush on, breaking the crayons with one hand, as you feigned shock and disgust, but secretly thought that this move was kind of cool and daring. . . . .until he got his dirty mitts on the Burnt Sienna crayon.) So now, your favorite crayon is broken right in front of you and you are required to draw a lovely picture of your life. You are drawing a picture of a path, leading into the sunshine of your future. The path is your life. It must be drawn in your favorite color, the one that really speaks to you, from the depths of your soul. So you pick up your broken crayon, and you cradle it or put a little tape on it, and you understand that while the crayon is a little broken, it can still draw your path in the very color that you had been envisioning that path to look like. And now you also have a little spare piece of crayon, in your back pocket, for those times in the future, when the path gets a little rocky again, and you need to draw on, a new direction. It is almost as if, in some ways, the brokenness of the crayon, has multiplied its capabilities. You now have the knowledge, that came from experience, that you will be ready for that rocky piece of road, up ahead in your path, because you now have the inner depth, and the experience, and the acceptance, to know that broken crayons will always have the ability to draw and to color, until they are completely used up, and then disappear into the horizon, and into the completed master piece of Love.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Monday Fun-Day

In case you missed it, this was one of the funnier commercials that ran during the Super Bowl. There were a lot of things that I liked about this year’s Super Bowl, including Tampa Bay’s win, but I did notice something kind of obscure, at the beginning of the game, that got me to thinking. When the sign language translator was translating “America the Beautiful”, the symbol for “America” seemed to be the loving, cradling of a baby. In a historical sense, the United States of America is very much a baby country. Our country is 245 years old. China, Japan, Iran and Greece are thousands of years old, each. We have an exceptional, gifted, healthy baby country with an excellent foundation, and yet also, so much growing to do. Like all babies, in order to reach its highest potential, our baby country needs to be guided, and cradled in Love.

This is from an article entitled “How To Raise a Happy Baby and Child”, published on the babycenter website:

We are all helping to raise our baby country, whose potential is phenomenal. The steps above, give us good guidelines to use, in order to help America become all that it is meant to be, in the thousands of years ahead, in “his” long-lived journey of Life. What a beautiful gift and responsibility, our baby is to us! How blessed we are to cradle our America, in our arms, nourishing America into “her” greatest potential!

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Your Average Zombie

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

I’ve mentioned on this blog, that I like to play phone games. I do not like to pay for anything on these phone games, So inevitably, when I reach a certain level in any one game, it becomes almost impossible to “beat” that particular level without some monetary insertion from Google Pay. So, that is when I say to said game, “Bye for now!” and I download another game that looks interesting, and makes me feel smart again, because I am zipping through the easy entry levels, like a pro.

I’ve noticed that if I leave a game alone, without logging in for a few weeks, and then I show up again after a long break, all decked out in my pretty little login emoji, miraculously there are boosters and extra lives and thousands of “coins” being thrown at me, as if I were the prodigal son returning to the screen, after so long and arduous, a time apart. The previously impossible level to beat, without buying the super-duper, discounted $6.99 value pack of boosters, is now a breeze to get through, as if I were starting on Level 1. And the next three “extremely hard/expert” levels, I am able to “win”, with the aid of one thumb and keeping my eyes closed.

It appears that these video games for my phone, were created by people who are quite familiar with toxic psychology. They are made with the “cycle of abuse” in mind. They work off of the casino model. Intermittent rewards is what keeps you coming back. A game which rewards me all of the time is ho-hum boring, and that game is quick to get deleted off my application list. A game that never rewards me at all, is easy to say “sayonara, don’t let the door hitcha on the way out”. It does not feel good, at all, to always lose. But man oh man, you let me have a fabulous winning streak for a few weeks at a time, and I will always check in, eventually. You, my sporadically exciting and enthralling phone game, will always have some space on my phone. And you know it.

I was explaining this phenomenon to my husband and he said that I was spot on. My husband and my sons are huge Joe Rogan podcast fans, and my husband said that he had listened to a podcast recently, discussing how computer/video games are made. The creators of video games, study all sorts of fascinating psychology in order to make the consumer stay on these games longer. Apparently, we game players will stick to a game, for at least ten minutes longer, if we think that we are saving a “person” versus some other mission. (I guess that is hope for humanity) Also, we like games that involve a lot of “water.”

I was a marketing major in college. I understand the manipulative side of business advertising, sales and consumerism. Therefore I pose this question, “If you know that you are being manipulated, and you are choosing to be part of the manipulative game, are you still being manipulated???” I think that this is a very interesting topic to ponder. I think that this topic can apply to a lot of things besides video games and product advertisements. As we have experienced a lot of, particularly in the last few years, this question about manipulation can easily apply to government, news media outlets, sports, religious cults, and personal relationships, to name a few. We can even manipulate our own selves, by implementing denial and rationalization.

“If you know that you are being manipulated, and you are choosing to be part of a manipulative game, are you still being manipulated?” Does it even matter? Do we even care? I would love to hear your thoughts on this topic. My thoughts aren’t fully formed. As someone who prides herself on always trying to seek “the authentic Truth”, this question is one that is worth spending some time on, since I am taking a break from my phone games this week (with the reasonable expectation of some booster/points “goodies”, next week).

“One of the methods of manipulation is to inoculate individuals with the bourgeois appetite for personal success.” – Paulo Freire

Top 62 Quotes & Sayings About Control And Manipulation
8 Manipulation Quotes and Sayings ideas | manipulation quotes,  manipulation, sayings

Karen

Memebase - karen memes - Page 2 - All Your Memes In Our Base - Funny Memes  - Cheezburger

So there is an ongoing social media meme joke about middle-aged women demanding to see the manager, about various complaints which they have in stores, or in restaurants, or in government offices, or in a myriad of other venues. These women have all been given the generic name of “Karen.” I admittedly have laughed at said memes. We all have come across many “Karens” in our lifetime, and it is not at all fun, being at the other end of a Karen’s righteous, ravenous rage. The idea behind the Karen meme seems to be, that all of the disgruntled rage, which Karen has stored up, throughout her lifetime of putting up with various indignities with a plastered smile on her face, comes spewing out of her “completely-over-it-all”, middle-aged self, at the slightest offense. “Karen” has found her power (basically no longer giving a sh$t what anyone thinks). And everyone seems to think that this phenomenon is a big joke.

I had a very annoying customer service experience yesterday. Of course I did. We all know that “annoying” and “customer service”, go together like “salt and pepper”, or “peanut butter and jelly.” I honestly don’t consider myself to be a typical “Karen.” I don’t think that complaining has a lot of upsides, so it usually takes something pretty outrageous to bring my relatively long fuse to an explosion point. But yesterday was a Monday – a cold, windy Monday after a bad night of sleep, and my inner Karen was seeing red, and seething. I think what really brought my vicious Karen side out of the closet, was the seeming assumption, by the various “customer service (ha)” personnel, that by the very fact that I was a middle-aged woman with a complaint, (and an extremely legitimate complaint, I might add), I was already to be dismissed as a hormonal, out-of-control, cartoonish, crazed Karen-meme-in-real-life. It’s as if the “customer service” personnel immediately shut down and said, “Oh, we’ve got another “Karen” on board. Don’t give her anything, keep smirking, and let’s try to get another hilarious “Karen meme” out of this experience.”

At the end of the exhausting, time consuming, blood pressure raising experience, my situation got satisfactorily resolved in a very strange, roundabout, “things that make you go huh?” manner, but that’s for another blog. However, I have decided to have more compassion for the future “Karens” whom I may come across in my daily life. Often, the traits that we don’t particularly like in other people, are just some of our own traits, that we have unconsciously “disowned” in ourselves.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Monday Fun-Day

Image

I see tips like this, and I wonder, why wasn’t I aware of that idea when I was raising my kids? Living in Florida, we have motorcyclists who weave in and out of traffic, and many of them do not wear helmets. I hope that this tip will be particularly helpful for those of you who still have young children or grandchildren at home to teach, or perhaps pass this information on to teachers. Spread the word and save some lives.

Have a fabulous week, friends!!!

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Good morning, friends. Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. Today, I ask you to take the time to notice the stuff that you don’t typically notice. Notice the unusual color of eyes of the person who waits on you at Walgreens. Notice how perfectly synchronized all of the colors and lengths of hair on your dog’s face, or your cat’s face, come together into perfection and poetry, creating their beautiful expressions of being. When we really notice life, we starting living a beautifully poetic life. Here is my poem for today:

Falling in Love, Again

I love how you still surprise me.

I love that you showed me my favorite peanut butter pie,

even though I could be skinnier.

I love that I was rolling my eyes and watching the clock,

impatient for your movie choice,

And yet, when we watched it, it turned out to be a new favorite of mine.

And you knew that it would be, mate.

I love that you find it vitally important to find new favorites, for me.

It makes me feel vitally important.

I love how you know me so well.

You remind me of everything that I love.

You are my greatest gift.

You make me fall in love with you,

Again and again and again . . . .

Because you make me fall in love with life,

Again and again and again . . . . .

.

On Repeat

Yesterday, I wrote about being a gracious compliment receiver. I knew that I had written about this topic before, but I certainly don’t expect all of you to remember my past posts. Well, you caught me. I had to laugh this morning, when I looked at my stats and I saw that my previous post on accepting compliments, from at least two years ago, was trending. I am guessing that some of you were thinking, didn’t she write about this before?? Here is the older post. I do love the meme.

I am one who repeats myself often. My kids call me on this fact, all of the time. When I was young and older people did this, I just assumed that they were forgetful. However, now that I am an older person, I realize that a lot of my repeating of things, is just a reminder to myself, as to what to keep imprinted on my heart. My repeating is part of the beating of my heart. My “repeating” is keeping my life beating to the important stuff – the lessons, the stories, the ideas, the verses, the experiences which have come together to form the current version of “me”. My repeating of what is meaningful to me, is just a way to keep that “life gift”, as a relevant part of myself.

I am waiting for the Progressive Insurance’s “You Are Turning Into Your Parents” advertisement campaign, to do a segment on all of the stuff that we parents say, again and again and again. They have already burned me with my love for throw pillows, and cutesy signs, and being way too obvious when looking at people with aqua blue hair. I am sure that repeating the “same old stories” will be part of the next Progressive TV commercials. And I honestly look forward to any advertisement from this “turning into your parents” series. I like to laugh, and I don’t have any problem with laughing at myself. I give myself a lot of material to laugh about.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 

Repeating Quotes - BrainyQuote

Receive

I read a story in Real Simple magazine last night that made me think. It was written by Hoda Kotb. She talks about having a young twenty-something page at NBC, working for her, whom Hoda was really impressed with. One day, Hoda complimented the page about her work ethic and her calm nature. She said that the page smiled and replied, “I received that.”

“I received that.” Koda complimented the page, once again, for her serious response. They talked about the fact that compliments are such a gift. Koda thinks that if you respond to a compliment with “I received that,” you are saying, “What you’ve said to me is inside of me now. I’m not deflecting it, I’m receiving it. I accept your kind gift.”

I wonder if I would feel weird saying “I received that,” to someone who complimented me. Probably. But, I could think it, after I smiled and warmly said, “Thank you.” I could decide to receive the compliment, instead of thinking, “oh they’re just trying to butter me up,” or “How could they possibly see that attribute in me? They are totally mistaken.”

Genuine compliments are rare, unfortunately. For some strange reason, it takes guts to tell someone what you think is particularly interesting or special or unique or positive about their persona. When someone has mustered up the courage to give us a genuine compliment and we deflect it, it is almost like throwing a sweet, thoughtful gift, down to the ground, right in front of their faces. Ouch.

Readers, I think that you are incredibly kind, thoughtful, insightful, loyal people who have made a major difference in my life for almost three years, now. I am incredibly grateful for you. Your gift of attention has meant the world to me. I consider you to be a major, meaningful gift in my life.

Please receive my compliment and my thankfulness.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 

Soul Sunday

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 

Good morning, friends and readers. I hope that this post finds you well, and rested, and peaceful, and hopeful, and thoughtful, and in the moment. My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted entirely to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. I think that this is fitting, because poetry is the form of writing that is the most closely entwined with our deepest feelings and soul. I was very moved by Amanda Gorman’s recital of her beautiful inauguration poem. I love the ending suggesting that we should be brave enough to be “the light”, which we are all really made of, underneath all of the noise and masks and insecurities and ego. Please, as always, feel safe to share your poetry in my Comments section. I would love to read what your soul has to say today. Here is Amanda Gorman’s poem in written form:

The Hill We Climb by Amanda Gorman

When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade.
We’ve braved the belly of the beast,
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace,
and the norms and notions
of what just is
isn’t always just-ice.
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn’t broken,
but simply unfinished.
We the successors of a country and a time
where a skinny Black girl
descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
can dream of becoming president
only to find herself reciting for one.
And yes we are far from polished.
Far from pristine.
But that doesn’t mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge a union with purpose,
to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and
conditions of man.
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us,
but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,
we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms
so we can reach out our arms
to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true,
that even as we grieved, we grew,
that even as we hurt, we hoped,
that even as we tired, we tried,
that we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat,
but because we will never again sow division.
Scripture tells us to envision
that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
and no one shall make them afraid.
If we’re to live up to our own time,
then victory won’t lie in the blade.
But in all the bridges we’ve made,
that is the promise to glade,
the hill we climb.
If only we dare.
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit,
it’s the past we step into
and how we repair it.
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation
rather than share it.
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
And this effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed,
it can never be permanently defeated.
In this truth,
in this faith we trust.
For while we have our eyes on the future,
history has its eyes on us.
This is the era of just redemption
we feared at its inception.
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
of such a terrifying hour
but within it we found the power
to author a new chapter.
To offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
So while once we asked,
how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?
Now we assert,
How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was,
but move to what shall be.
A country that is bruised but whole,
benevolent but bold,
fierce and free.
We will not be turned around
or interrupted by intimidation,
because we know our inaction and inertia
will be the inheritance of the next generation.
Our blunders become their burdens.
But one thing is certain,
If we merge mercy with might,
and might with right,
then love becomes our legacy,
and change our children’s birthright.
So let us leave behind a country
better than the one we were left with.
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,
we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west.
We will rise from the windswept northeast,
where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states.
We will rise from the sunbaked south.
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover.
And every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,
our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,
battered and beautiful.
When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid,
the new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.