It sure is nice for writing this post, now, though. I finally feel a flow of words lighting up my synapses. They flow through my fingertips and appear onscreen. It feels good after a bit of a drought. Inspiration is fluid in that way, though. Up until this point, when I have sat down to write the next post after the last, I wasn't sure what would be appropriate to say after a few recent events, especially after a man in my own community immolated himself yesterday morning.
While I am certainly upset about the election, I guess what I have to do is find a better way of using my anger and sadness, and turn it into something good. I feel intensely sad for that man and his family, and I think I just need to find peace and help others do the same.
I don't blame people, though, for how they feel. Everyone experiences things is his/her own unique way, and it makes sense that people would need time to grieve--some people have a lot at stake, and at a cost far higher than financial.
Making my art, though, writing this post, writing my books and stories, is my way of fighting, resisting: creating. Putting every ounce of anger and frustration into the works I create, and I feel glad to know that I am not the only one. That's what I love about this community and the friends that I keep: I look around and see so many others struggling, but resisting, and forging their own unique paths ahead.
Our voices can be used to shape how others perceive this world and the people around them, each in our own unique way. So I guess this is a call to action. We can take what is happening and be positive lights, and shape the outcome for the better. Making art is our way of resisting against a world where only a few select people get to pick and choose who gets to be included.
Instead, we can use our anger and sadness, and work towards making a positive difference in the world. It is in our power.