Different
This isn’t the post I was going to write. And perhaps, once again, procrastination is guiding me to the post I need to write.
Like many, I stayed up most of the night. Between the sinus medication, Bourbon Cream coffee and the TV, I was focused on watching one of two versions of history unfold. At 2:45 am, I did wake up from a mild doze to watch and listen live as the transition began.
As I listened, I recalled something I had read earlier today nestled within my Facebook feed. It was from a post of a mutual friend who embodies understanding and peace. We haven’t met yet but there are times that I feel I know her and she knows me.
M.E. wrote:
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the enduring lesson I learned from one of my mentors Bob. Once I got it, well, it explains just about everything.
He taught, “It’s not that we see things differently. We see different things.”
Several times that phrase wormed through my mind yesterday as I sat at work and waited for one of the two versions of history to unfold. We do see different things.
I’m apprehensive about what this day and the days coming will bring to me and my family. How will these days impact relationships we currently have? How will these days shape new ones? We are divided in our subgroups of unity. Some of us so much so that our pain oozes with every word, action, nuance. Things are interpreted and misinterpreted.
If we are to Make America Great… it is not by Making America Great again. That implies we twist backwards. One quick flip through a history book and I see a lot of the backwards that was wrong. What is it that you see? What is it that they see? We need to figure out — and quickly — how to make the America we have now, with all of its beautiful shades, souls, loves and desires, illustrious and celebrated. There is room for all of us. All of the different us. We need to see the different things the other person sees and discuss with civility. We need to learn how to build each other up without tearing each other down. We all have basic human rights. Those shouldn’t be cast off as different.
Freedom gave us all the chance to participate in this entire election cycle. Freedom allowed me and my dear running sisters to gleefully run the dark streets yesterday morning without fear and stand by each other as we went to each polling places to cast our votes. I wore white in honor of the brave women who made damn sure that I could do this. I can only hope that my daughter, can continue to do these things — and more.
No, this isn’t the post I was going to write and it isn’t perfect, but neither am I. For what it is worth, I appreciate the freedom to write it. ~ Jacqui
Nashville or Bust 