Here in Washington, DC, we’re dizzy with inauguration. All the social people and the extroverts and the ecstatically inspired are scurrying from event to event, volunteering, singing, chanting, cheering. One could say we’re overrun by the hopeful.
I, too, am inspired and passionate and hopeful and glad, but I’m also staying at home, watching the news coverage online (cool whistle-stop tour) and the music and pomp on TV. For a month, I’ve been listening to Metro’s and DC’s dire warnings not to take transit or drive in the city, and I believe them. I also think—no, I believe—it is possible to celebrate and give thanks and do good in my own small way.
But as it doesn’t fit the mass-goodwill template, people this week have looked at me askance. “How can you express your joy without being in a shoulder-to-shoulder ocean of humanity?” “How do you show the world your solidarity if you don’t stand exactly like me and do exactly what I do?”
I do know the feeling of solidarity, of rising with the group, of being inspired to perform beyond my ability. I love how helping and giving ricochets back on the giver. I’ve felt it many times before, and I do today—that’s how powerful this weekend is. But most of all, in our days of celebration, I celebrate my freedom to celebrate as I wish. Good job, us!
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