One of the primary tenants of a spiritual practice is the act of acceptance. Spirituality defines non-acceptance of those things with which we cannot change as the epitome of insanity. This is something I often think about each time I read a tweet or Facebook post that urges me to embrace the results of the 2016 presidential election. Sure, I have accepted the fact that at the age of 51 I will never play professional baseball, a recognition that came far later in life than the acknowledgment that at five feet two inches, I will never wear an NBA uniform. Accepting the fact that I will never slap my glove at shortstop for the New York Mets has brought me much peace and joy in life by giving me the space to enjoy the sport I love without resentment or regret. So, given that experience and as someone who meditates and believes in spiritual practice, one might expect that I would simply accept the outcome of the presidential election and embrace Donald Trump as my president. However, on Saturday, January 21st, I, along with thousands of other non-accepting individuals, marched in the streets of Trenton, New Jersey to denounce the hatred, misogyny, and bigotry that is at the core of our new president’s rhetoric.
As I walked on the concrete bridge that led me over the swift and beautiful stream that flowed into the Delaware River, I couldn’t help but feel in awe of the swarms of like-minded citizens coming together to promote love and equality amid the backdrop of the majestic, urban city on an overcast day. The diverse group of passionate and beautiful women and men with whom I marched enjoyed the unseasonable temperature as it seemingly mocked our new administration’s stance on global warming. There were inspirational speeches from political figures and activists such as the illustrious NJ Civil Rights icon Edith Savage-Jennings and the charismatic Congresswoman Bonnie Watson Coleman. There were also the unsung heroes who work tirelessly behind the scenes of so many organizations that feel marginalized by the new administration. These special people represented some of our most vulnerable communities such as women, the LGBT&Q community, immigrants, and Muslims just to name a few. These brave souls, who I can imagine had never spoken in front of thousands of people, were lifted by the emotion and meaningfulness of the day and presented their case for love and intolerance like well-seasoned orators.
However, for me, I was moved to both tears and action by the words of Elizabeth Meyer, a young mother who, with no experience in politics or activism, brought together all these people for the Women’s March on New Jersey. Meyers spoke passionately from the heart about why she was motivated do something about the hate and divisiveness that was being propagated by the 2016 election season. She told the attentive crowd that what had started out as a small idea flourished into a march of thousands who rallied in solidarity with their fellow Americans and all freedom-loving citizens of the world marching in Washington, DC and at over 170 sister marches across the United States and the globe. It was her inspiring words that brought hope to the thousands seated before her in the packed theater and set the tone for what was to be an optimistic and heartening day.
While the many individuals that spoke at this event carried with them labels such as representative, director, mother, transgender, and lesbian, the words they spoke were beyond the labels for which they identified. Along with their humanity, these individuals shared a common bond with every single person inside and outside of the magnificent theater that was bursting at its oversized and ornate doors. The words of love and resistance swirled around the wonderful banners that danced above the enormous and joyful crowd. Some of the words on the banners were dark and ominous, some witty and clever, while others were sharp and stinging like a dagger thrown directly at the heart of our new leader’s policies.
It then appeared to me. It was both figuratively and literally, a spiritual sign. It read: “I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.” It was a direct call for non-acceptance which firmly contradicted my strong belief that acceptance is the only sane response to those things we cannot change. This message from out in the crowd, transported me back to a discussion from earlier in the week with a Trump supporter who so desperately wanted me to not only accept the election results but to feel at ease by our future. This well-meaning person tried to assure me that our new president would not enact all the contentious policies he campaigned on because it was just rhetoric that was used to get him elected. An argument that was meant to provide solace to not only me but all those troubled by the results of the election. This individual failed to see the irony in the call to ignore this man’s disturbing promises, yet have faith in his claims, without much details, that he alone will make America great again. After some debating, including a discussion on how renegotiated trade deals would bring back all manufacturing jobs even those lost to automation, I accepted that we were at an impasse. Which brought me back to acceptance again.
Certainly, our most direct route to joy and peace is through the acceptance of the realities of our life situations. A middle-aged man must at some point accept the loss of his boyhood dream and all of us will experience the death of a loved one that we will either accept or live a life of suffering and pain. Even life’s simple and mundane happenings afford us the opportunity to deal with acceptance; to learn to let go of those things we cannot control. Whether it is a spilled cup of coffee or a poorly-timed traffic jam, accepting things as they are, can be difficult yet extremely empowering. Nevertheless, an enlightened life does not preclude us from changing those things that we have in our power to change. While we all must accept that Donald Trump is our president today, we can march, rally, vote, contact our representatives, and fight to defend our democracy. Because while it is true that non-acceptance of those things we cannot change is insanity, it is also true that the acceptance of hatred, bigotry, and divisiveness from our government is just as equally as insane while we have the strength to let our voices be heard. I am reminded of one of the women I marched with on Saturday. After the march was over she told me how ecstatic she was that she could participate in the event. She had been suffering from chronic back pain, recovering from a cold, and had just gotten her voice back after a recent bout of laryngitis. After, talking, chanting, and from the excitement of the day, she told me with a big smile, “my voice is gone again.” The irony of her statement was not lost to me, because while her voice may have been gone, her voice and the voice of thousands of people in Trenton, New Jersey were heard loud and clear.