Pride and Expansion

I have just returned from the JFK Presidential Library where I watched the inauguration with a couple of friends and several hundred other Bostonians, including a few groups of inner-city high school students. I can't begin to describe how emotional it was. Let me say this: for the first times since I can remember, I sang the National Anthem. I wanted to sing it. I sang it out loud. I shed a lot of tears. Of joy and a sense of a cohesive vision for our people and our planet.

A few things I was struck by: Our room was very quiet, and not in reverent prayer, during the prayer of invocation. The man from Saddleback was not appreciated. There was a surge of excitement at seeing Aretha Franklin enter the inaugural stage. I was impressed at how people in the room were able to identify all the people who walked through the doors. Even people in more obscure offices. This was an engaged and informed audience. There was a palpable sense of relief that Obama was actually human when he struggled with the oath. People were glad to see that he showed a sign of being nervous. At the beginning of his speech we were all taken aback by the serious nature of it. There was a sense of being snapped back to reality in the midst of this fantastic experience. But by the end, the near-shock was transformed. People were energized. And proud.

The sense of pride may have been the overwhelming emotion of the day. I was proud to hear him speak of Muslims as part of the American fabric. And so much more so when he mentioned "non-believers". It's the first time I've ever felt included in our political rhetoric. The pride continued to emerge as he spoke about re-instating our values and how they cannot be compromised in the name of expedient safety. The pride surged as he mentioned our need to be aware of how our consumption of resources impacts other people. Overall, we all felt that our nation's consciousness is being expanded. That this expansiveness is where our hope in humanity lies. There were many tears and hugs shared by strangers. Though I rarely like public events and big crowds, I did not want to experience this moment at home alone. I will always remember the feeling of being in that room with my fellow Bostonians. We stood when the ceremony called for it. We even talked to each other about whether we should stand and, as a crowd, we decided that we would because then we would feel connected to the moment. Connected to our government. Connected to our fellow Americans around the nation. The thought that kept coming to me was that we are so ready for this. We have been a nation waiting and something transformational, that has been cocooned for over 40 years, is finally being released. May we now soar on the most beautiful wings.