Thoughts on a Sunday morning
Sun Feb 10, 2008 at 09:45:25 AM PDT
I almost never write diaries on DKos. I read, and comment, but rarely feel the need to pile into the crashing sea of words with essays of my own. I write this one for myself, really, because I am weary of seeing my own previous diary criticizing Barack Obama's candidacy at the head of my page. I want to see a new block of words there, and one that reflects the hope and strength of commitment rising in my soul. I want to see words that embrace hope, rather than question it skeptically.
I lost my mother, four years ago, to a system that was built to throw her away. In her mid-60's, she became ill, she became clinically depressed as a result of her illness (which was not properly diagnosed by her inadequate access to professional care under her insufficient medical coverage) and she was prescribed anti-depressants. The anti-depressants didn't suit her system. She was miserable. She became suicidal, and ended up taking her life in a remote, beautiful area in the Catalina mountains in Tucson. So remote, in fact, that her body was not found until this week, after four long years. The fresh nature of my grief over her death, and part of the reason my mother gave up prompt me to speak up about the very nature of what she lost- hope.
My mother was an independent thinker, a student of history and civilsation, and a woman who put herself through college in her 30's, against the wishes of my hidebound father. She did that while raising a child, keeping a home, and working full time. She was always there for me, and there was a home-cooked meal on the table every night. Our house was always clean, she got straight A's, her work was impeccable. I have no idea how she did it. She was my best friend, and she was a kind, compassionate, and loyal person.
The invasion of Iraq was one of the last straws for her. It was so clearly wrong. Her fellow Americans were too busy sitting on the couch watching American Idol, they were not informed, and they were not engaged with the reality of what was being done in their names. She had no doubt that Bush would bomb Iraq, no doubt that he would be re-elected, no doubt that the planet and our civilisation was on the all too predictable downward spiral of so many before. She understood why I protested, but told me that it would not be effective. That the die was cast. I wanted her to be wrong.
Anyone who reads enough history knows that all of our stories are old ones. Jealousy, greed, lust for money, lust for power, they are the themes of the ages. War, slaughter, treachery, deceit. The usual. What is strikingly unusual is a leader who genuinely brings peace and healing from the bottom up. Who inspires people to put themselves aside, and help those less fortunate. Who calls out the empathy and the good will inside people, who inspires their fellow man to examine the nature of the fences that have arisen between people who otherwise would have no division.
There is no requirement for our society to sanction hate. Most social discord is a hangover from previous power grabs, having little to do with the humans who are forced to live the results for generations. For example, a substantial number of the next generation of Iraqis will hate my children. My gentle, kind children, my sun-faced young boys running down the hall, my earnest 20 year old daughter who wants to work with the Peace Corps and Doctors Without Borders. My children, and your children, will pay the price for the murder done in our names.
The more we beat the drums of hate and fear, the more we reap for our future and our future's future. Only by sowing reparation, peace, and tolerance can we begin to undo what has been done in our names. The decision I made to accept Obama's message of hope was not based on a world I wish existed.
It was based on a world that I know exists in our hearts. Hope is not a pointless dream, it is not an empty word, it is something real, and living, inside us all.
...
(And there I accidentally hit "Publish.")
I wasn't really done, and I wanted to make it much shorter. But I think I'll just leave it alone, with the idea left out there.
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