Well, it's the day before the U.S. presidential election and everyone's feeling forking fantastic. Tension is at an all time low and you can feel the ease in the air. It'll be really nice when the whole thing's good and done Tuesday night so we can all celebrate and move into our bright new future as a united nation. Maybe I'll invite neighbors over for homemade apple pie.
I've never been the greatest at discussing politics, so as part of my midlife personal improvement plan, I've been on a journey to better inform myself. I use the term "inform myself" broadly here, as I'm often still astounded by how much I still don't know at 47. My LIST OF THINGS I DO NOT KNOW is long, diverse in scope and should keep me pretty busy till my dying days. When I'm 87, I plan to sit around my local pizza shop boring my friends with juicy facts about the Habsburg Empire and tales from Yoruba mythology until a cute 20-something interrupts to compliment my expertly applied eyeshadow. I'll put down my slice and say, "Thank you, dear! I finally got the hang of it!"
As part of this self-improvement plan, I picked up a book last year titled "Concise History of the World" and read it cover to cover since my history education has always felt deficient and I needed my reintroduction to be synoptic and digestible. National Geographic published it in 2004 so the last 20 years remain a mystery even though I was alive to see them. I ransacked this book with sticky notes, reminding myself to add certain events to my neverending LIST OF THINGS I DO NOT KNOW.
I'll tell you what I do know after reading that book. People have been doing barbaric, inhumane things to one another since the literal dawn of time. Maybe I don't even need to read National Geographic's abridged version; they can make this one super-duper concise and just run a pamphlet titled "2004 to 2024-- More of the Same...With Internet!".
This site is called Much to My Delight because I work really hard to always look for the good, but in all honesty, the state of the world often leaves me bereft. As a city dweller I can't simply run into the woods when things feel this heavy. As an alternative, I spend an awful lot of time in Central Park.
I do so many things there. I walk. I meditate. I catch up with friends. I read. I lay in the grass. I drag my husband. Sometimes I simply lean back on a park bench, take a deep breath and ask the stranger next to me, "Have the lambs stopped screaming?"
I love Central Park for its gorgeous architecture and quiet natural beauty, but mostly I go to remind myself that people aren't always terrible. Central Park is the sweetest, most wholesome place I've ever been and that's saying a lot for a green rectangle in the middle of the wackiest city in the world.
I spent six hours in and out of the park one recent Saturday. For over an hour, I balanced myself on the lip of Bethesda Fountain--no book, no headphones, no scrolling--I just sat and watched the world go by. I watched dogs splash in the fountain and little kids pointing at the ducks and boats in the The Lake. I saw babies perched on papas' shoulders and elderly couples clutching hands. I watched merry brides and poreless 15-year-olds gather ballooning hemlines as they posed for wedding and quinceañera photos in twinkling dresses shaped like cupcakes. A singer performed a mediocre rendition of the Bee Gee's criminally underrated "How Deep is Your Love?" while a couple slow-danced in the middle of a swiftly moving crowd. I smiled at their affection and tenderness, then the woman pulled away to reveal a pregnant belly and suddenly I was wiping tears thinking of the memory they just created.
It almost doesn't seem possible, but I've only witnessed the best of life in that park. Picnics, symphony concerts, swing dancing, roller skating, drum circles, kids' birthday parties, families bicycling on a sunny day. People seem to be at their best there-- relaxed, open, friendly, patient. Spending time there each weekend centers me for the week ahead. It doesn't erase anything bad but it sure helps me notice all the world's good. I was there for the marathon yesterday and, as per usual, my heart exploded from the sense of shared humanity. I kinda wish it were held after the election because that's when we'll really need some loving energy.
What is my point exactly? Honestly, bro--I'm not sure. The brain fog caught me halfway through writing this thing and I'm not certain what point I'm attempting to drive home anymore. I don't know -- maybe it's this. If you are one of the privileged people in this world who has access to a place that feels peaceful, spend more time there. Look around, talk to someone you don't know and try to observe kind and decent behaviors in action.
I'll share one of my recent observations as an example.
I was exiting a karaoke bar in Koreatown two weeks ago when two guys on the sidewalk began to share what are colloquially referred to as "fightin' words'. They started puffing up their chests as only guys hanging out on a sidewalk do. Things started to get more serious as my friends and I began to approach. I wondered if I'd need to duck if a punch got thrown.
But then the guy responsible for much of the provocation took notice of us and retreated from the other man's face.
"Hold up man, this group needs to get through. I'ma let 'em pass."
We mind our business and shuffle through quickly. Once safely past them I hear the same man yell, "Okay now, show me you're not a pussy!" I found his treatment of us very considerate.
Good people are still out there, friends. Take a minute to notice. Find your silver lining, peel it, and plop it on your heart, right by your I Voted sticker.