It is I Who Must Begin
It is I who must begin.
Once I begin, once I try –
here and now,
right where I am,
not excusing myself
by saying things
would be easier elsewhere,
without grand speeches and
ostentatious gestures,
but all the more persistently
–to live in harmony
with the “voice of Being,” as I
understand it within myself
–as soon as I begin that,
I suddenly discover,
to my surprise, that
I am neither the only one,
nor the first,
nor the most important one
to have set out upon that road.

Whether all is really lost
or not depends entirely on
whether or not I am lost.

– Vaclav Havel

A few nights before the election, I experienced two haunting dreams that lingered in my mind.

In the first dream, I found myself staring up at an imposing old brick house, its two stories looming ominously over me. The tired walls were marred by cracks, and through the shattered windows, the indistinct silhouettes of two figures with blurred faces peered out.

The following night, another vivid dream unfolded. I was clutching my cell phone, only to discover that the screen was completely shattered. I ripped off the cracked screen protector, but this reckless act caused the phone to split into two disjointed halves. Panic surged within me as I scrambled to find a new screen protector, desperately seeking a way to piece my fractured device back together.

I’ve always processed things a bit differently. It is probably because I spent a large part of my life in survival mode dissociating. As a child, I turned to Stephen King’s books and films to cope with the real threats in my home life. His stories offered me hope; it didn’t matter how terrifying the threat was—whether it was a global pandemic, a preacher preaching a false gospel, or a creepy clown lurking in the storm drains of my neighborhood—his characters always banded together to find solutions. They overcame challenges not in spite of their differences, but because of them. That was exactly what I needed, as I often felt like a strange child who didn’t quite fit into the world around me.

A recent trip to Newfoundland, the land of my ancestors, offered me profound insights into the questions I’ve grappled with about myself throughout my life. I was genuinely surprised by the sense of homeostasis I felt in my nervous system during my time in this country. Not only did I feel at home, but the strangers I encountered on the street greeted me warmly and intentionally, with my favorite barista even remembering my preference for oat milk. Interestingly, they were all men—individuals I typically approach with suspicion due to past experiences of abuse. I had no idea how much my nervous system craved this sense of safety and connection. Additionally, my male cousin from the area has become one of my dearest friends, a relationship I hadn’t realized I needed as well.

I make every effort not to judge men. I have a kind-hearted and sensitive husband. I have two absolutely wonderful sons. But outside of these men in my life, I struggle with trusting other men. And the most recent election really does reveal so much about my deep fears.

This post isn’t about who should have won this election; a president has been chosen, and he embodies everything I fear through his outward behaviors. He is a man who speaks his mind without restraint. Within me lies a frightened child and a resilient woman, both shaped by complex trauma and abuse, urgently pleading with me to recognize the looming threat. Someone wise told me yesterday that Donald Trump is honest about who he is, and we should believe people when they reveal their true selves. I am listening to those vulnerable parts of myself that are crying out that there is a threat while also embracing the strength I’ve gained as an adult, one who knows how to protect and advocate for herself.

Mothers and daughters are devastated, while many in the older population fear that the pensions they worked a lifetime to secure may vanish. In response, Canada is tightening border security due to concerns over a potential influx. These are just a few of the things I hear, even as I try to avoid the news until my nervous system calms down.

These fears remind me of another distressing period in my life when everything I once knew was in upheaval. That morning, I awoke on my mattress—the final item left to pack in our moving truck. We were departing from the only home we had ever known, seeking refuge from the nightmare it had become. My faith in others and in God felt irrevocably shattered after exposing religious abuse.

Thankfully, over the past few years, I’ve been fortunate to discover a vibrant community. Although we are spread across various locations, with some members nearby and others connecting through Zoom, our diversity enhances our strength. The shared goal that unites us is our pursuit of hope and healing.

Recently I confided in one of my friends about my dreams of broken glass, she highlighted its fragility and suggested I might be seeking to fix what’s broken in my life. I realized my phone is essential for connecting with distant friends; yet, it also reflects the fractures in our world. With the election results dividing our country, I wonder if we can truly repair these rifts or if we should simply start over elsewhere. Lately, Newfoundland is looking increasingly appealing to me.

My mind drifts back to my dream of blurry faces behind the jagged shards of broken glass, each visage a distorted reflection of our own uncertainty. It feels as if they are silently conveying to me the profound truth that we don’t truly understand ourselves or the intricate tapestry of each other’s lives. We are standing in a desolate house filled with shattered windows, the air heavy with unspoken questions, wandering aimlessly without a single clue about what steps to take next.

It occurred to me yesterday that our indifference towards one another has driven us apart. I genuinely believe that most of us want to reconnect. This polarization is a weak attempt to fix what is deeply broken, like trying to put a screen protector on a phone that is shattered in half. It won’t work; we need to delve deeper and repair what is truly broken within us.

How can we possibly achieve this? I vividly recall a rainbow that appeared in the sky on election day; it graced the sky for just a fleeting moment before vanishing completely. I might have missed it if I hadn’t been paying attention.

The sight of the rainbow took me back to a day when I sat by my mailbox over a decade ago, feeling as though my world had completely collapsed around me. Doubt clouded my thoughts, leaving me unsure if I could believe in anything ever again. Yet on that day, as I looked up, there it was—a vibrant rainbow arching gracefully above the house where we lived, filling me with a sense of hope amid the turmoil.

There has been much work for our family to do over the past decade since that time, and the most challenging part has been when we haven’t been able to collaborate effectively. When one of us insists that our way is the best in an effort to control, it creates tension. I’ve had to dig deep within myself and recognize my own shortcomings, allowing me to be humble enough to confess that I truly need help from someone who approaches things differently—and they need my help as well. It works so much better when we learn how to listen to each other.

So today, I am journeying deep beyond the surface of despair, where fragility echoes the delicate nature of glass, mirroring the vulnerability of our egos. True strength, however, is not found in the shallow; it pulses within, waiting to be awakened.

So, during this challenging time filled with uncertainty, remember to embrace resilience, seek hope in every moment, and find strength in the support of those around you.

Embrace the beauty surrounding you and seize the precious opportunities to create something extraordinary.

Reflect on the moments where collaboration flourished, even amidst disagreement—where diverse perspectives birthed goodwill and understanding.

Remember, we are united in this intricate tapestry of life.

Pause to truly see one another, to marvel at the tales woven into each face, the beauty they’ve crafted, and the pains they’ve bravely transcended.

Together, we possess an unparalleled strength that elevates us all.

Here is a link to a podcast that is helping me through this uncertain and fearful time.

https://www.mosaicvoices.org/episode-408-to-not-be-lost