By the brilliant, joyful student performance of In the Heights I saw at Berklee College of Music on Friday night. And the powerful, lovely original song the cast performed after the curtain call (written by Zaid Tabani, who played Usnavi and is wicked talented).
By the wise, thoughtful voices of faculty members at my workplace, who are drawing on their expertise and experience to help make sense of what happened and what is next.
By conversations with friends and strangers, and the quiet sense that we are taking care of each other in small ways.
By the gentle, steadying atmosphere at my local yoga studio, where I have been showing up more frequently this month.
By the conversation I overheard the other day between two young men, one of whom is a playwright, about the responsibility and power of art and artists at a time like this.
By the friendly, supportive, determined conversations on Twitter and elsewhere that have helped me process my feelings and also figure out a few practical things to do. (First and foremost: so much listening.)
By the oak leaves in every shade of gold, red, russet and deep brown. I was afraid we wouldn’t have much color after a dry, hot summer, but the trees this fall are stunning.
By a brief conversation I had with the mayor of Providence, R.I., about the good work being done in government at the local level. (He was visiting campus for a conference, and probably has no idea how much his words encouraged me.)
By the spindly, twinkly “giving trees” on the steps of Memorial Church in Harvard Yard, covered in messages of hope. (And this separate message of hope, below.)
Nearly two weeks post-election and it still feels like a new, fragile reality around here. We are heading into the holidays, which I love, but also into the shortest and darkest days of the year, which are hard for me. (I have never been more ready for Advent, which, for me, is a way to look the darkness steadily in the face and then light candles against it.)
I am still sad, frustrated and heartbroken, but I’ve also found myself heartened by the glimmers of hope I shared above. We have – I keep saying – so much work to do. As we move forward together (and head into Thanksgiving week here in the U.S.), I’d love to hear what is bolstering you up, these days.
cakes, tea and dreams 
I love the Lighting Our Candles post you linked to. It reminded me of the book The Dark is Rising, which is one of my favorites to re-read in December. If you’ve not read it, it’s a YA fantasy about the ongoing battle between the Light and the Dark–spoiler, the Light overcomes the Dark, and those who fight for it vow to continue to do so as long as the Dark continues to rear its head. There’s even a sign of fire, born from Midwinter Candles.
I too am feeling very fragile as I try to figure out how to move forward, to figure out what happens now, to figure out how to deal with the fact that some of my friends and family are okay, even happy, with things as they now stand (this last is really hard for me). Advent is one of my favorite seasons, and I am very much looking forward to it. In the meantime, I’m finding refuge in new-to-me music, in getting taking the weekend off from “adulting” to go see my favorite Celtic band, in random acts of kindness from strangers, in our new pastor’s sermons, and in watching my children go about their business of learning and growing and discovering.
I haven’t read The Dark is Rising, but it may be time to pick it up! And yes to music and kindness and children. Love all of that.
I appreciate your posts and those of others, letting me know I am not unique in my feelings of being rubbed raw and still vulnerable and needing more time to grieve the election of 2016. As a reader, writer and editor, I am having to turn off my analytical left brain and turn to the visual right side of my brain to find solace. My process has involved doing a lot of visual and artistic stuff, like coloring in coloring books, knitting, listening to music and non-political podcasts, cruising Pinterest and falling deep into the vortexes of Instagram and Youtube. I’m now exploring Zentangle, which is supposed to be a both visual and spiritual form of drawing. Aside from trying to numb out, I’m moving into action, having made monthly donation commitments to advocacy groups whose missions are geared towards counteracting and denormalizing the results of the election, and I’d like to do some volunteer work in that area as well.
I look forward to being able to read again, and I know it will come in time, just like it did after a few months of grieving the death of my mom. I’m going to just let it take its own course. In the meantime, there’s a visual feast of color, shape and form to enjoy, and the abundance God has provided me in this hour of need is truly a blessing. Like your autumn leaves and happy trees (that’s a Bob Ross reference).
Hope you find some peace, Lissy. Art and action seem like good ideas. xo
I have been thinking of The Dark is Rising these past couple of weeks too! It is a favorite and I reread it during the dark time each year. I will need it even more now! But I also have been gathering hope in other ways: the conversations I’ve had with people who are relative strangers but are of similar beliefs who are also looking for ways to stand against what we see happening, walks in the sunshine between rainstorms, cozy nights with the firelight keeping us warm, playing music and sketching each day because those two things help me turn my mind to something else and also bring me comfort, making more time with family and friends because we gather strength together, and reading this post! Thank you for continuing to send out light in the darkness. I have to believe that together we will find our way through it.
Such a wonderful list, Sydney. And yes. I believe community is going to get us through.
So true, we are all feeling fragile these days, seeing how much we assumed and how wrong we were. Such beautiful moments of restoration and solace you’ve listed! And I adore that sign. 🙂
I found your blog looking for One Little Word postings on “light”. I chose this word for exactly what you wrote about in your blog. Fragile and dark is exactly how I feel. Thank you for sharing.