After the high of the Paris Summer Olympics, seeing women being fierce and fun and sexy and utterly themselves, after having gotten my hopes up that we might get a president who had my and my children’s best interests at heart, November hit me hard. I fell into a slump. It continued into December, and I realized I needed to put a plan into action or it would turn into a 2025 slump.
Less news is better news
First, no more being a news junkie. Most of today’s 24-hour news isn’t actually news, it’s re-hashing yesterday’s news, or pure speculation. Bozo the Clown might be our next Secretary of Defense! All public restrooms will have litter boxes by 2026! Somebody in Whoville got their feelings hurt! What they’re calling “analysis” is just fear-mongering, and it was making me fret.
So, from now on, l’ll read the news once a day, focusing on global and local events. National news is the worst for being alarming and alarmist, while global and local events get bare-bones coverage. In the olden days, Dan Rather read you the world news in the evening, and you felt both the weight of the issues and the comfort that he imparted. I want to stay educated on global events, even if I can’t do anything about them, to keep the big, big picture in mind.
Local events–that’s where I actually might be able to do something.
Take a chance on your neighbor
Second, I decided to focus on my micro-community and host a block party. I typically host small gatherings for friends and family, but strangers are a whole nother issue. Still, the world is a scary place and I can’t do anything about much at all, but I can make hamburgers for everybody on my street, no matter what kind of signs they had in their yard in November.
I handed out fliers door-to-door, and people showed up with covered dishes and smiles. We hung out one sunny fall afternoon, meeting each other, and connecting. Some people have lived here for forty years, and some just moved in. Some are retired, some are between jobs, and some are just starting out. I had a backup plan in case any fights broke out, but my neighbors exceeded my expectations and were one hundred percent pleasant. After the party, we began to greet each other in the street, we connected online, and we sent holiday cards. The world might be a scary place, but our street is friendlier than ever.
Read and cultivate
Third, I’m setting up a free little library in my front yard and stocking it with books from local used bookstores, mostly banned books and classics. We’ll see what my neighbors contribute.
The final thing I’m doing, and maybe the most important, is leaning into what I love. (That sounds corny, but stick with me.)
I started gardening last year, so this is my first winter garden. I’m cleaning and sharpening my tools and equipment, repotting houseplants, and propagating lavender, thyme, and rosemary.
I’m putting more energy into my two book clubs, leading (for the first time – I’m not really a leader) a January discussion on The Women by Kristen Hannah and leaning into my writing group, which gives me oxygen. Playing piano and flute duets with a colleague. Coffee or lunch with friends, or meeting up at a local watering hole for happy hour (something Tulsa does really well). My piano students are perking along, my kids are stable, my siblings are thriving. My home life is lovely, with a snuggly partner, the world’s softest cat, and a big cushy couch with books and hot chocolate. I’m adjusting my sightlines to see the positives.
Lean into Love
Focusing on things I love has changed my perspective. Once I freed up the brain space that current events were holding hostage, I had mental and emotional energy for my work and hobbies, for my friends and family.
Don’t think for a moment, though, that I’m taking the current political chaos lying down. I read Heather Cox Richardson’s newsletter, where she puts daily events into historical perspective. I subscribed to Indivisible, looking for ways to be pro-active now instead of twiddling my thumbs till the next election season.
When it’s time, I’ll march with women, call my representatives, stand up for my LGBTQ+ friends, and seek justice for the marginalized. I can’t be a philanthropist, but I can be vocal.
I’m not going to fret about things. Instead, I’m going to live quietly and polish my pitchfork. If there’s one thing an authoritarian government needs to fear, it’s women with pitchforks and attitude. That’s what started the French revolution. Who knows? It might still work today.
