Earlier this month, I voted. I made my preferences known regarding local races and issues. I placed my drop in the bucket. This is what voting feels like – a minuscule contribution which I hope will be worth the effort. I hope others join in engaging in the democratic process – such as it is, while we still have it.

This is what is on my mind and heart today – how we in the United States have drifted toward sectarianism. We’ve moved from “we think differently, let’s work together” to “you are wrong and need to be stopped.” Our campaigning simply to get our own way does little to encourage cohesion, trust, or unity. The process matters.

The process matters, and how we engage one another has degraded. Even the kindest among us will take on enemy images of those who think differently. They are offered us in the air we breathe. I am not immune from rejecting a person because of their political stance. I have to actively work to counter the messages of dehumanization and hate. And it feels both like too little and too much. It feels like too little when I wonder what impact I, as a single individual, can have in the Grand Scheme of Things. It feels like too much because it is hard work. My reflexes have been trained to join the outrage and dismay. My tongue tuts and tsks with ease in unbelief at what They have most recently said or done. It is work to let go of the anger and fear which drives these reactions. It is a practice to seek a compassionate view.

The thing is, it is my compassion for the “least of these” which fuels may anger toward those of power and means who seek to maintain their power and means without regard for the impact of their hoarding on others.

“Hurt people hurt people.” This is the phrase which brings me back to the heart of compassion. Those who cause suffering are themselves suffering. No, not back to the heart of compassion – toward. I still want to dethrone Them. I want to strip their power and re-distribute it. I still pine for the magic wand which heals (maybe not instantly, but very quickly) the hearts of those with social and political and financial power. I want Them to use their power for good.

I want them to use Their power for good. I want Them to do better. That’s the thing.

When I focus on Them, I ignore myself. I ignore my own power to do good in the world. And I have power, even in the midst of a precariously balanced political reality. My practice now, while life is still somewhat predictable, will prepare me for how I will respond In the future. If I practice doing the good I am able to now, I will be able to respond more effectively should our democracy collapse into totalitarianism or chaos. There is wisdom here that feels like it comes from my heritage of practical farming folk: The thing to do is keep on keeping on, practicing compassion each day, even if those around me have lost their ever-loving minds.