On Friday the day was dull and dark and the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens** in Columbus, Ohio, Washington D.C. and in my heart as I watched the rain fall during the swearing in and angry, awful Inaugural speech of Donald Trump.
I wasn't the only American overcome with a feeling of Weltschmerz last Friday.
My sister woke up feeling sick to her stomach. My children were down with the Trump blues.
Tom and I made a consolation dinner date for Friday night with some friends, staunch Republicans, who were grieving as much as we were. More, maybe. It was their values and their Party's philosophy that had been despoiled by Donald Trump.
But then the sun came up on Saturday morning and has been shining ever since, both outside my window and in my heart.
Yesterday what was planned at its conception to be a single event, a Women's March in Washington to protest violations of women's rights inherent in Donald Trump's political agenda, bloomed into over 670 marches in over 60 countries world-wide.
Women and men joined hearts across the oceans and rivers and mountains and deserts to march together for the cause of not only women's rights but all human rights and to demand that the most powerful leader in the world use his position not to enrich and empower himself and his billionaire cronies but for the well-being of his country and the world. The message that united the marchers transcended every physical, cultural and language barrier on the planet.
The cloud that my spirit had been under for the past two months finally lifted and my heart sang with each new photo of the marches I saw posted on Facebook:
But what truly gave my heart wings was seeing the photos posted from marches all around the world:
At the end of his opening monologue on Saturday Night Live last night comedian Aziz Ansari said:
"If you look at our country’s history, change doesn’t come from presidents. Change comes from large groups of angry people. And if Day 1 is any indication, you are part of the largest group of angry people I have ever seen".
Welcome to the Resistance, Mr. President.
**With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe, who turned this phrase in the opening line of his uber-creepy story, "The Fall Of The House Of Usher"