BY JOELLEN COLLINS
I started this column with familiar refrains expressed by many citizens of the USA, something akin to the statement “I can’t even abide the negativity surrounding us.” I, too, have been overwhelmed by the nastiness and fueling of our worst human instincts dominating this current election. I’m sure that many share this kind of anxiety, so I am fortunate to live in an atmosphere where good people can try to deal with these negative feelings of hopelessness. But just a few minutes ago I was with a friend at dinner, someone going through a lonely time, and it felt good to help alleviate, even for a few minutes, her deep sadness at having left her former home. As I stood up to leave our table, it hit me that I, too, miss my friends and family and wonderful Idaho, and sometimes I yearn to hug one of my buddies there, or laugh over coffee at whimsical comments by the dear citizens of the Wood River Valley.
However, I also realized that just being here with my nearly-the-same-age companions is what I need, in order to overcome the fright of current politics or even a closer challenge with helping a new friend feel even a tad better. AND THEN, I was aware that expressing my feelings through this column may be one way I can appreciate what I do have here and now. I must keep involved available goodness.
Today I watched a review of the Hungarian revolution and then had the privilege of hearing the stories of my neighbors, my friend and his wife, during his escape from Budapest in 1956—an amazing experience. Then I was asked to be one of three authors in a presentation about the challenges of writing! In addition, something I was loving in my small town and with the children I knew for so many years, is happening here. On Halloween, I get to tell fortunes as Madame Blavatsky to school kids who will visit us that day! So, I am feeling welcome and still able to continue participating in joyous events. I am not with my treasured friends in Idaho, but I am blessed with the good people one finds wherever one lands. Yesterday, as I was reorganizing my stash of poetry, I came upon some lines from Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman that speak to me, this woman of a different time but similar conflicts. Even in his chaotic world, he chronicles his desires for love and healing, a kind of prayer for those aggrieved by war and hate. His appeals are relevant to our current concerns:
“You surely come back at last,
In things best known to you finding the best,
Or as good as the best, in folks nearest to you,
Finding the sweetest, strongest, lovingest
Happiness, knowledge,
Not in another place but this place,
Not for another hour but for this hour.”
Human beings have choices: Why don’t we choose this path rather than that of hate, power, pain, and fear—the sunshine instead of the gutter?
