Everything in my life has prepared me for this moment, and . . .

{I wrote this the week after the U.S. Presidential election.}

I feel like Arjuna in The Bhagavad Gita: Everything in my life has prepared me for this moment and I am on my knees, crying, I did not want this.

The Bhagavad Gita is one of the great sacred texts of the world. Worn and dog-eared, embodied and lived, by Ghandi and Mandela. Modeled by King.

The Bhagavad Gita explains dharma (and the nature of the divine and our relationship to it).

Arjuna, born, raised and groomed to be a Warrior, faces a battle he cannot bear: on one side his father and brothers; on the other, his uncles and cousins. He is prepared. He is masterful. He has trained his entire life for this moment, and he doesn’t want it. Never did he expect this: People will die. His family is and will be torn apart. Blood will be on his hands.

It’s a metaphor, of course. A parable.

And, yet, it’s not. The events that created the work of Ghandi, Mandela and King were sharply divisive. There was violence. People died.

In the wake of the election, we face sharp division. There has already been violence. People will be hurt.

In my own Arjuna moment, at my kitchen sink, every experience of my life suddenly clicked together. Outliers were now strategic, divinely-crafted puzzle pieces that prepared me—more deeply than I ever could have imagined—for a role in the issues we face. The mystery of my dharma dropped away and revealed itself to be a perfect path through a lush grove:

I was bullied.

I was (rather routinely as a young woman) called a bitch.

I studied feminist theory.

I studied history.

I studied constitutional law.

I worked 4 years as an attorney at a United States Court of Appeals.

I study and practice yoga.

I write (always have).

I teach.

And, then, there was the recognition of what this has prepared me for—not just the work but the context.

That’s when the gasp came. I literally put my hand over my mouth, bent over, and started to cry. I want to live my dharma, I want to use all of my gifts, all of my passion, all of my learning—and yet—I recognized that I had wanted (and had always assumed) the circumstances of that to be easy.

I did not actually want to say and write and stand for things that could be controversial, criticized, pushed back against. I did not want my conviction and commitment tested. I did not want my own comfort and naivety stripped away.

But it was, and it is. And I knew, crouched over, hand to mouth, that I was prepared—born and groomed and forged to step into leadership in this divisive moment in history.

What this looks like for me, in addition to continuing to develop my work here, is writing about:

• the intersection of politics, law and culture, including
• the historical cultural legacy we’ve inherited;
• the conflicted relationship white women have with each other, civil rights and abuse;
• the dharma of the United States I see playing out.

The reflections on dharma will be shared here, together with posts in the regular vein. You can follow the rest of it here. {It will also be thread all together on Medium.}

That’s what my role in these times feels like. We each have our own, arising from the center of our gifts and our inherent nature.

What does it look like for you?

{I’d love to hear on the blog. If you’d like support, I’m here.}