Yesterday my coworker blurted out she voted for Trump. After the initial combustion response in my brain, with lots of internal sound effects like a whoopee cushion, trombone slide, air-raid siren, whistle and clown honk, I composed myself and in the softest tone I could muster asked, “what was it that compelled you to vote for him?” And she said, with a face of total wide-eyed innocence: “I don’t know!” Followed quickly with: “I regret it now.”
This led me to the conclusion that it was not about policy, it was about the reptilian brain. A lot of people make voting decisions on some sort of primal center portal connected to something like copper wire/ shotgun shells/ sheep’s wool/ seashells- most of which have nothing much to do with issues.
Today I met with the coffeehouse for dems thing again that I love. A smaller group allowed for a salon gathering discussion of ideas and a roundabout of wonderings and personal reports of experience. It was rich.
Some things that came up were: what do school boards do/ what are we doing locally to protect citizens from ICE/ what are Red Cards/ the difference between the suffragette’s from England and the movement in America/ how to talk to younger people about the democratic party/ how to message with more clarity/ who in the party is currently reaching people best/ how do we reach people in our own social groups/ how to be with those in despair and hopelessness.
People are excited about No King’s Day protest on June 14th.
When I got home I was still in the zone and walked into the new house space where my hired hand was painting the walls the color of honeydew. We said hi and how’s your day going and I told him what I’d been doing and he was interested and said he did not vote for Trump. And this opened an hour-long conversation between us in the small room taking shape, while talking about the difference between opinions and values, what does integrity look like, family dynamics around death and loss, feelings, vulnerability, and how it’s important to be a safe person in the world for other people.
I have a friend I email with and we realized we both just like having someone we know we can write our thoughts to and it will be ok. This is huge. Sometimes these are very long emails. Writers tend to write long emails. It’s allowed.
I wanted to be a safe person even with the Trump voter. After her reveal, we had to go back to tasks but when we would be near each other we would smile or make a joke or offer help. It felt oddly healthy.
I thought about the interactions I had in the last couple of days and realized they were made up of receiving and being received as people in community who are not entirely aligned even when in agreement, but interested in each other’s experience anyway.
It’s really worth the effort.
When I went on a walk later through the fields I felt happy to play a part in receptivity. And a certain reciprocity. It takes practice and a willingness and though some don’t want to try it, I think most of us want it.
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