I did a call-in livestream last night as Americans were starting to cast their votes. This election was supposed to be a historic event, and over the years I have found that, when history’s happening, it’s nice to be around people you like.
I didn’t know if anybody would show up, and what happens if they do. But some people did, and what happened was a very cozy, heart-warming conversation about the strange and oftentimes alienating world of big-scale events and the grounding role of human connection.
When I listened back to the recording, I was struck by the soothing effect that it had on me. I think it’s an “everybody’s homeland is childhood” kind of thing: when I was three, the country I was born in dissolved, and two years later, the new country’s President ordered tanks to fire at the Parliament building, which they did — so the TV box was always on in our little apartment, reporting the latest troubling news, and my parents discussed them endlessly over coffee or tea, and many times I have fallen asleep to the soothing cadence of their concerned voices. This must be the reason why, every time the world burns, I notice, mixed in with my grief, pain, or anxiety, a subtle sense of belonging or recognition. I don’t know if you’ll feel the same when listening to this chat — it’s hard to say how much of a niche thing it is.
I’m very grateful to all who participated in this inaugural stream or listened in to it silently. Let’s do it again sometime soon.
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