Early this morning, I decided to declare today a personal day of prayer and fasting. The idea of the fast came first, and it’s going to be tough, I won’t deny.
Oh, I’m still eating and drinking and such. But for today, to whatever extent I am able, I plan to abstain from any and all touch of politics. I won’t obsess over news clips and editorials. I won’t listen to election predictions or dire speculations. I won’t expose myself to Facebook skirmishes. I am unplugged.
I am so exhausted from hearing that name on every pair of lips. I fondly remember—oh, several ages ago it seems—going days, sometimes weeks, with no mention of the president from either newscasters or neighbors. I really miss those days.
I’ll be quick to admit that I’m as guilty as all the rest. Way back during the run-up to the election, I became aware of my own contribution to what I saw as a national aberration. I tried to stop clicking those headlines, but I just couldn’t help myself. The swaying cobra held me in thrall. I knew then, and I know now, that I am the one feeding the monster. Still, I click.
What I really want is peace of mind. And I know that that has always been mine to command. The world didn’t take it from me; I ceded it. Now I reclaim it, at least for one day.
It may not be easy. Already I feel an itch to check the headlines. I’ve made a plan to support my resolve and I’ve lashed myself to its mast, but that doesn’t silence the siren call. Its torment permeates the very air I breathe.
The fasting element of my plan may be difficult, but the prayer part is simple. I pray we all survive this with our spirits, our friendships and our nation intact. I pray that most of my fellow Americans share my bright dream of an abundant land that will embrace us all. I pray that voters turn out in numbers that will merit historical astonishment, and begin the business of putting this dark dream behind us.
Just for today, I resolve to resist thinking about the worst and fill my heart with thoughts of the best. It won’t change a thing, but it can’t hurt. And I need a break.