Joy Is Rebellion
In the wake of the election, I am grieving. And I am tired.
And yet, life continues on. The bills don’t pay themselves. The food won’t cook itself, no matter how I wiggle my nose like Samantha. Everything is how it was—only it isn’t.
In this, it is like grief. It feels like the whole world should stop, but it doesn’t. It’s not just me going through this, but that does not make the feelings any easier to manage. And, for the moment, managing is the best there is.
I worry a lot, as my norm. Not necessarily out loud, but it’s a thing that wakes me in the night. And since last week, sleep has been scarcer than usual. Or more broken up. Certainly not what you’d call restful.
In general, when bad things happen, I want comfort. I want warmth and coziness and people—not all people. But some people. I want that closeness, that intimacy. Because connection is not just reassurance—it’s also power. Because it reminds us that we are not alone. And we are not alone. Together, we are a force. That is something I know to be true.
Things are not great, but they are not hopeless either. I keep trying to remember that, because we do not give in to despair. Why? Because that’s what the assholes want and absolutely not happening.
I am trying to remember things that make me happy: sunrises/sunsets, the first sips of coffee in the morning, when a friend sends me a picture of his dog, when the neighbor cat comes to visit, trying something new, making plans, hugs (I love hugs—I am buddy the elf), sending/receiving mail, laughter, talking to my oldest friend about hard truths, and even the privilege of missing someone—because love is a balm, always. Even in its absence.
What I can advise is this: be good to those who are good to you. Who love you beyond measure, without keeping score. Who show up when things are dodgy, not just when it’s a sunshine parade. Play music. Run a bubble bath. Hurl your heart into something new. Make a date. No, seriously, put joy on the calendar like an inevitable holiday. (I love having things to look forward to, especially with people I care about.) Because it’s joy and love that will get us through—joy and love are weighted more than despair and hate.
As I’ve said elsewhere, joy is rebellion. And so, I rebel.
Today, write down a dream. Something you want to happen. It doesn’t matter if it seems small or silly. Dreams are never silly. Write it down in as much detail as you like. Put that out into the universe, darlings. Dreams are powerful things. Don’t ever forget that. No matter what, there are always dreams. In the best of times and the worst one. Dreams are starlight. Look up.
Look up, loves.
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One final thing: If you’re in the U.S., and you’d like to get involved in politics, a good place to start is with Celeste Pewter. I have learned so much from her throughout the years. And she makes the process of speaking up much less daunting than it was.
**walks back in the room like Columbo* Wait, I lied! I have one more thing—I sold a poem to Strange Horizons! I’m very excited for you to read “Of Water, Always Seeking.” I’ll give a shout when I know more.
You are very kind, Mark! Thanks for reading!