The Golden Pool of Magic

Earlier this week, I stood beside my friend on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial at the exact location where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave his “I Have a Dream” speech. 

I stood there imagining the throngs of people that day, clamoring for justice, and eager for hope. I thought about my own story and the story of my friend standing next to me – two mixed girls who weren’t supposed to be there. As the physical representation of his dream being realized, our existence, for most of history, has not been wanted or even fully acknowledged. In fact, when my own mother was born, her parents could not have legally been married at the federal level because of the difference in their skin colors. And, as my friend so graciously informed me, our racial identity was not present on the US census until fifteen years ago.  

Behind me, I felt the weight of history, reflecting on Lincoln’s words and how poignant they are in this moment. Before me, I saw the World War II memorial and was reminded of our country’s legacy of sacrificing for the greater good. Beyond that, I watched the Washington Monument, lit up against the night sky, a reminder of the mission to break free of our oppressors. And off in the distance, I saw the Capitol building, an imposing symbol of how dependent we are on others to do the right thing. 

No historical figure has ever been perfect, and none of their efforts have been either. They are human, like us. I’m well aware of the complexities and tragedies of our own American story, but the throughline is one of more freedom, not less. It’s a legacy I deeply care to protect. 

This evening of unexpectedly philosophizing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial came after a weekend of profound hope and encouragement, where I stood alongside active duty service members as they cheered on thousands of runners in the 50th annual Marine Corps Marathon and MCM Kids Run. It was a weekend I desperately needed, and it reminded me of our shared humanity. 

I think in a world that is presently very scary, it is so easy for us to fall into the trap of only focusing on what’s wrong, but I worry that we have no vision to believe in if we don’t also talk about what’s right. We become like everyone else, opposed to much, but for very little.   

So I am going to be for some things today, by sharing a few snapshots from a weekend riddled with compassion. 

I am for the lieutenant-in-training who I watched lean over a para-athlete as he supported them up the final hill, shouting words of encouragement over them as their weary arms propelled them forward in a beautiful depiction of Jesus’ own posture towards us. 

I am for the woman who, after crossing the finish line and receiving her well-earned commemorative finisher blanket, quietly took it out of her backpack and gave it to the homeless man sitting alone in the metro station, his posture becoming just a little straighter as a result. 

I am for the Marines who joyfully ran with tiny humans who were too afraid to run by themselves, and I am for those representing Navy Medicine, including one of my closest friends, who raced to protect any child who fell. 

I am for connecting with people who are different than I am, in spaces I never thought I would be in, which is something I witnessed and participated in throughout the weekend. 

I am for my friend who personally drove a young soldier to his new base after hearing his story at the airport. 

And, I am for the moments in history, however controversial they were at the time, that have allowed me, my friends, and those like us to stand on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial without fear of bodily harm or emotional anguish. 

I suppose, if I put it simply, I am for liberty and justice for all. 

I haven’t felt patriotic in a long time, but this past weekend made me feel patriotic. It reminded me of what we should be standing for and inspired me to not be afraid of the things that we need to stand against. It isn’t easy to do the right thing. It is necessary. 

I often think about what happens after division. I’m oversimplifying here, but after the Emancipation Proclamation, roughly half the country was in full support, while the other half still didn’t think black people were full humans. And yet, eventually, with some exception, we all came to a place where we could collectively acknowledge that slavery was pretty messed up. I imagine the division in that moment felt nearly insurmountable, but with time, we established a shared moral foundation. We’re backsliding for sure right now, but this moment is not unique. It’s just a moment, and it’s our responsibility to see it through to the other side.

I believe that good always wins, that Jesus conquered death, and that ultimately, we will live freely. But I also believe that this world is so desperate and broken that we need to be the ones working alongside God to bring Heaven to Earth right now. Good wins ultimately, but it doesn’t win in every moment, especially if we’re just standing idly by. 

Now I know in these kinds of writings it’s important to include some tangible call to action, but I’m not going to do that, because I think it’s different for everyone. All I want to do right now is to encourage you that there is hope and that there are good people doing good, selfless, kind, generous things for people they agree with and people they don’t. I hope that inspires you and reminds you of the real American dream, not this lie we’re being sold. 

I’m hopping off my soapbox now, but I want to thank you before I do. I marked five years of this blog a couple of weeks ago, and this is my 50th post. Thank you to every single one of you who has spent time with me and my words over the last five years. It is a privilege to have a space on the internet where I can speak, and an even greater privilege that there are people there to listen. Thank you also for bearing with me in my nearly constant references to Dr. King and the Civil Rights Movement, as those words and stories have been heavy on my mind and heart this year. 

I'm grateful that you're on this journey with me, friends. Until next time.

xx

Abbey

Titular Reference: Boy’s Life by Robert McCammon, as quoted below. 

“When people get weepy at movies, it’s because in that dark theater the golden pool of magic is touched, just briefly. Then they come out into the hard sun of logic and reason again and it dries up, and they’re left feeling a little heartsad and not knowing why. When a song stirs a memory, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light take your attention from the world, when you listen to a train passing on a track at night in the distance and wonder where it might be going, you step beyond who you are and where you are. For the briefest of instants, you have stepped into the magic realm.”