Something Like Hope
A change in energy, a shift in pace, and lessons in listening and leading
My kids and I had just hopped off a lobster boat Sunday afternoon when the news broke that Biden was leaving the race. Like others, my heart twisted - a mixture of sadness and relief, tinged with fatigue. Despite being off the grid this month, the news has been distracting and worrisome.
When I was a little girl, I often asked my dad why he didn’t run for president. Not only was my dad the most popular adult I knew (he infused every room with palpable warmth), he was also a man of unfailing integrity. Integrity, he taught me, was the most important quality a person could possess, and it incorporated a lot: humility over ego, honesty over deception, selflessness over selfishness, morality above everything else. For my dad, a scholar of American history, integrity transcended political affiliation. He was deeply optimistic that others felt the same way, though he always laughed at the question,
“Abby, no one who would be a great president would ever want to.”
He died in 2014, two years before the election that unhinged the world. I’ve always felt relieved he never had to witness a person of such obvious moral deficiency take the helm of our great nation. Trump’s lack of character would have troubled him greatly.
Eight years ago, my moral outrage led me to become quite outspoken on social media. I couldn’t get over it - how could people not see what I saw? A man with such flagrant disrespect for other humans - women, veterans, folks with disabilities? What I saw playing out violated every lesson I’d ever learned around the kitchen table: that our words matter, that there’s no honor in bullying, and that upholding one’s dignity does not mean denigrating others.
And so I expressed my disapproval. And my judgment. Loudly. It cost me a few relationships. It illuminated some latent homophobia and racism in folks I thought I knew well. Did it move the needle in anyone’s thinking? I doubt it. Would I do it the same way again? Nope.
But I’m a writer. And when my soul is appalled, I work it out on the page. I try to organize the pieces in a way that makes sense. I don’t know that I can ever stop writing about what bothers me in the world. Injustice is at the heart of everything that feels worthy of putting on the page. As
reminds us, “Your life is a political act.”But I’d sure like to find a way to more productive dialogue.
During my teaching career, I was tasked with mediating a lot of conflict. Often I encountered kids who’d received this message from their parents: if someone hits you, hit them back.
That advice is prone to a great deal of misinterpretation, and, unfortunately, it’s never once led to a satisfying resolution on the playground. The only way I’ve ever effectively resolved conflict was by teaching kids how to talk to each other and insisting on their silence so they could listen to another perspective.
Listening is one of the toughest skills to learn. It requires stepping outside of one’s self, and taking in another’s perspective without simultaneously planning a counterargument. It’s about genuine curiosity, not silence. Consideration, not righteousness.
When it comes to flexing my opinions, I’m still learning to strike the balance between speaking my truth and being curious about what others have to say. Sometimes it helps to imagine myself as one of my students, receiving my own advice about listening. Sometimes it helps to remember my dad’s messages about integrity and let it undergird my interactions.
With a new candidate to consider in this election, there’s been an electrifying change in energy. I can feel it all the way up here on the northern border, where our very slow pace of life has done wonders for my nervous system. I feel hopeful, reminded of a time when the future was not conceived through a lens of dread and fear but one of possibility.
No president will solve the many problems this country faces, nor has making idols out of regular humans served us particularly well in the past. But an infusion of positivity, a jolt of decency? These are a much needed balm to the apathy and despair many have felt.
I’m hopeful that things are different than they were eight years ago. I’m hopeful this moment will inspire us to talk to each other differently, and better than that, to skillfully listen.
Integrity is essential to progress; it’s essential to the pursuit of peace.
Notes of Inspiration
In addition to reading, writing, rainy day paint-by-number projects, family movie nights, and hours spent fishing off the dock, here are a few other things that have induced feel-good fuzzies lately…
Young Woman and the Sea on DisneyPlus: The true story of Trudy Ederle, who, in 1926, was the first woman to ever swim across the English Channel.
Sally Quinn, on caring for her husband, the late Ben Bradlee (former editor of the Washington Post), and protecting the dignity of our loved ones through illness
Animal, a new podcast through the NYTimes, that my kids can’t get enough of. Let’s hear it for the animal kingdom and all their mysterious, fascinating ways. I teared up during this first episode.
Lobsters possess the secret to aging! Well, sort of. But did you know their cells don’t denigerate like other creatures? The science behind lobsters is one of the most interesting things I’ve learned during our time in Maine and one that researchers are still studying.
"Listening is one of the toughest skills to learn. It requires stepping outside of one’s self, and taking in another’s perspective without simultaneously planning a counterargument. It’s about genuine curiosity, not silence. Consideration, not righteousness."
Listening, being curious. expressing and holding space with integrity. Thank you for these reminders and for your honesty.