In light of recent events, I’ve been bombarded with a sense of mourning from the people around me. I’ve consoled friends who have cried, and I’ve had to try to mitigate their fears. I’ve seen several in tears while watching both concession and victory speeches. And — what I deem to be the most lamentable of these first few days out of the election — I’ve heard words of hate spoken or posted by representatives of all political ideologies, animosity voiced from both the winning and the losing sides. The contrasting sentiments of profound loss and triumph are allowed to be felt or acted upon with passion. However neither feeling, no matter how strong, justifies venomous rhetoric.
Without full disclosure of my personal political opinions, I’ll admit recently I’ve spent more time than usual browsing the Children & Family section of Netflix for movies I watched as a kid. My newest Spotify playlist is saturated with John Denver — songs like “Sunshine on My Shoulders” and Denver’s chilling rendition of “Let It Be” — as well as The Lovin’ Spoonful, a 1960s group whose name alone prompts at least a small smile. I’ve also sat in bed many mornings indulging in my favorite skits from SNL or monologues from Stephen Colbert.
This weekend I retreated from the tension on Grounds and ran my fourth marathon — during the first few miles of which I silently cursed myself for doing so and thought solely about the sheer idiocy of the concept of running for “fun.” Getting over the initial pessimism, which normally ensues from the beginning phase of a long run, I looked ahead of me and saw the mass of people partaking in this long and painful endeavor. At least I wasn’t alone in my idiocy.
But when I thought about it longer, about the thousands of people testing so fiercely their physical and mental selves, the feeling of shared accomplishment overwhelmingly moved me. Merely crossing a finish line after 26 brutal miles of muscular torment would bring tears of joy and rushes of exhilaration. Throughout the event strangers cheered for me, and fellow runners gave me high-fives or passed on words of encouragement. People I’d never met provided cups of water or much-needed snacks from their homes or stood for hours with posters of uplifting messages telling me to keep going.
All physical discomfort aside, I was able to look around and see so many people experience the happiness of completing such a daunting — and admittedly even agonizing — task. In a time of political distress, strangers bestowed compassion on one another without knowing whom they voted for. It was refreshing to be reminded of all the goodness still to be had even in times when you’d least expect it or during moments when optimism is the most difficult feeling to foster.
For some this is a period of mourning, while for others it is a time of celebration. Despite our strongly opposing viewpoints, all is not lost. There is still happiness to be felt even for the losing side, even if anger or mourning seems easier. Whether it takes newly updated Spotify playlists or movies from our childhood to lift our spirits, we should strive to be optimistic regarding all the goodness around us and the potential for unity to bridge hostilities. What’s ahead of us may be painful, but we should remember hope is always stronger than hate.
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