I live in a red part of the biggest, bluest state, California. My representative in the US House is on Donald Trump’s transition team.
A few kindred spirits gathered at my house on the first Sunday after the election, November 13, to celebrate the full moon, as usual, but this gathering felt like a funeral. These days many funerals are called celebrations of life. The departed loved one’s foibles and accomplishments are remembered, tears are shed, and feasting follows.
This was such a huge death. Our country’s ideals had been trampled in a hate-filled campaign. How do we recall 240 years of accomplishments and foibles? How do we mourn such a loss?
Shameful things about the campaign and victory continue to come to light, even as this moon wanes. On Tuesday, November 29, the new moon will bring in new energy. May she bring us hope in darkness.