I’ve had a few sales recently, so yesterday I started turning blanks into rough cuts in hopes of rebuilding some inventory for the Holidays. This morning, there was paperwork and a trip to the local post office to drop a couple of spoons into the mail.

I’m generally loath to argue politics – or more specifically, politicians – so I decided just to sit for while until my internal smoke had cleared and I had a better notion of what I was going to write. Those who know me well enough can probably surmise where my vote went. Those who don’t probably couldn’t care less. And besides, the matter carries little relevance to anything conveyed here-in.

Shortly after learning the results of the election, I was overcome with a profound feeling of radical acceptance; not because any certain candidate had won or lost, but simply because the results were in and we finally knew where things stood.

As I’ve continued to harbor this feeling and go about the necessary day to day requirements of my life, I’ve become almost preoccupied with an image taken from perhaps one of the most pervasive Pop Culture mythologies of our time: the mythology of Star Wars.

I was fourteen years old when the original movie came out in ’77. My friend, his brother, and I packed ourselves into his car and off we went to “A galaxy far, far way…” Truth be told we only got as far as the local theater: Cinema 1-2-3 at the Viewmont Mall in Scranton, Pennsylvania; a premier venue as far as the Valley was concerned, with THREE movie screens (hence the name), and swimming pool sized “Monster Buckets” of popcorn. To this day, I can still smell the combination of butter and teenage angst.

As the movie unfolded on that tiny screen, made somehow gigantic by the scope of the spectacle before us, I found myself completely fixated on the aging Jedi Master, Ben Kenobi. In total, I saw that movie six times in the theater, and every time it struck me that someone as powerfully equipped as he was to stand against the Empire would squirrel himself away in the middle of nowhere.

As the rest of the movies began to come out, and with them additional information, Kenobi’s story began to make more sense. But it wasn’t until the miniseries detailing his years in hiding on Tatooine that the singular purpose of his being there was really driven home. In the midst of everything taking place in the galaxy around him, he completely devoted his entire existence to the only job he had: making sure that kid stayed alive…

The idea of being able to marry oneself so closely to one’s purpose, regardless of the goings-on around him still utterly grips me to this day. And while I claim neither power nor trough of wisdom, I’ve come to appreciate what that means on a deeper level.

And it was specifically this insight which gave rise to my initial feeling of radical acceptance. My Creator, my recovery, my practice, my marriage and the spiritual community with which my wife and I share our home, my family and friends – at this point mostly interchangeable, and a few extracurricular activities that keep me sane and grounded: these are the devotions of my life.

Anyone reading this might be tempted to conclude that I’ve turned my back on the world, that I no longer care what happens outside my immediate circle, and that, as I’ve heard others say many times, “my give-a-shit meter is permanently stuck on E”.

But if I’m being honest here, the exact opposite is actually the case. I care very deeply for All My Relations. And what might initially express itself as outrage or frustration, quickly shows its hand as a deep and undeniable sense of heartbreak. And after standing in that place of heartbreak for what seems nigh on decades, a growing flicker of compassion has finally taken hold. And with it, the awareness that my life is the bucket of water I’ve been given to carry until the time comes to place it into the hands of the next generation. My work is no one else’s. And unless I continue to tend to it, it won’t get done.

None of us can say with any certainty what the next few years will look like. A good many of us have listened to our hearts, or to the pundits, and afterwards, have cast our votes accordingly. Some of us will say that this election is the best thing that’s ever happened to America and will usher in a new Golden Age of Democracy. Some of us will say it’s the worst and will bring about a fall into Fascism.

Some of us will clutch the flag and thump our chests with joy. And some of us will clutch each other and bow our heads in sorrow.

Some of us will forget for a while that there is only All of Us. And so, it might just fall upon the rest of us to remember…