One of the places I've been finding hope for humanity is in women. Most of all in the Women's Marches on Washington around the globe that took place yesterday.
As a solitary person, with few family ties—one who usually avoids groups altogether—feeling a sense of community is not built in to my life.
I usually feel on the edges, looking in (or looking somewhere else altogether).
In spite of my skittishness around groups, I showed up to march with 100,000 women and allies yesterday. ("So bad, even introverts are here" read one rally sign, which captures my views exactly.)
Many women I know were there, among tens of thousands I did not know, with their signs, their pink hats, their energy and their voices.
Today, I feel heartened about humanity as a whole. That so many of us hold the vision of a kinder, more just world for all, and are committed to take action for change.
As I scroll through photo after photo of diverse, brave, creative women and their allies around the world, on the march, I feel an upwelling of pride and love. I feel humbled by their generous outpouring of love and solidarity that crosses geopolitical boundaries, this vitality and positive intention released into the air, the ground, the energy field that connects us all, as a spell of great power.
Whether or not you were bodily present at the women's march, perhaps you are feeling encouraged, too.
Because we were there for ourselves; but also for you. All of us, rising up. A chorus of voices.
"As each of us falls into bed at night, exhausted and despondent because we have not yet saved the world, the sun is rising on the other side of the planet, and other people are rising to the challenge of protecting what is flourishing and just and beautiful.
"On the rotating planet, there’s a great dawn chorus of committed people, millions and millions of them, who rise from their beds or mats or blankets, rustle up coffee or atole or tea, and set off to do the good work of defending the world’s thriving.
"We can hear the chorus if we listen — the rustle, the creak of doors tin or wood or grass, voices calling out to each other in a thousand languages, the roar of action advancing around the world, awakened like birds by the rising sun."
Excerpt from Letter to America: We Will Emerge Full-Throated from the Dark Shelter of Our Despair by Kathleen Dean Moore.