Today I kept sitting at my table and watching as the Presidential train traveled to Washington, DC. Mostly I had the mute button on and just watched and paid attention to what was happening inside of me, what was being tapped and unfolding as I watched the president-elect, his family, all the people who waited in the cold for whatever reason they each had. I am struck that when I am watching something momentous on the TV, I think about my Mother and I watching over and over President Kennedy being shot and the aftermath. I remember my Mother grabbing me and yelling when his possible assassin was shot live on TV. I don't know where my siblings or my stepfather were at these times, it seemed just my Mom and me were glued to the television and to each other. So my Mom was for sure flitting around the room this afternoon, and while Barack Obama was shaking hand after hand in Wilmington, Delaware I was surprised to feel tears rolling down my cheeks. The tears were from this place of such tenderness. Feeling so very protective and caring for this young, vibrant, hopeful leader of our country, our next president. Here he was with the people, the secret service all around him, and wanting him, his family, our country, the world to be safe. I was holding such a sense of preciousness. To be able to lean into the willingness to act from a place of positive inquiry, to be the change, not just want someone else or something to change. Feeling the magnitude of Dr. King's birthday, his dream, and this inauguration. Knowing what opportunity is and how it can feel so fleeting.
And tonight I have been listening to the blues, to Nina Simone, to Ray Charles, to musicians who came out of such a rich, vibrant, soulful place in music. African-American inspired, shining a light in the darkness. Take my Hand, precious Lord.
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