C'mon Back In, Politics — the Water's Warm
Leaving the Small Collective to Fall in Love With the Bigger One
1. The Goodbye That Sparked the Shift
I’ve spent the past few weeks grieving a goodbye I didn’t know would hit this hard. Not just to a job, though that’s part of it. What I’ve really been mourning is the loss of a small, tightly wound collective: a workplace where I gave my heart, my creativity, my care. Where I let the lines blur between professional and personal, between support and devotion.
When I stepped back from it all, I realized: I wasn’t just grieving a job. I was grieving the collective I’d poured myself into.
2. The Moment of Realization
At a recent sound bath (yes, we’re going there), the facilitator shared that she keeps her head in the sand around politics. And something about hearing her say it aloud — plainly, unashamed — made my body sit up a little straighter.
That’s been my approach too. Politics felt like a firehose. Too big. Too broken. Too loud.
But in that moment, I felt something shift. I realized how much energy I’d been giving to small systems — workplace dynamics, interpersonal tension, institutional confusion — and how little I’d been giving to the larger systems that shape our lives.
I was already heartbroken. So I thought: C’mon back in, politics — the water’s warm.
3. Reflections on Collectives
There’s something addictive about the intimacy of a workplace. When it’s good, it feels like a second family. When it’s bad, it still feels like home because it’s familiar. But it’s also closed off. Unaccountable. You don’t get to vote out your boss. You don’t get to unionize your heartbreak. You don’t get a public comment period for every “we need to talk” Slack.
And for the past few years, I let that become my whole world. I mistook a small collective for the collective. I tried to make meaning in a room that was never built to hold the full depth of who I am.
So now I’m turning outward. Zooming out. Getting my hands dirty again with the bigger picture.
4. Re-Entering Politics With Love, Not Numbness
I just watched a clip from Pod Save America and felt nostalgia. Not for the chaos, but for the zoomed-out clarity that comes when people talk about government like it’s something we can actually shape.
I want to be in that conversation again. Not the firehose. Not the doomscrolling. The conversation. The curiosity. The connection.
So I’m re-entering with a new intention: to fall in love with the collective again. Not the curated, Slack-thread version of a collective. The real one. The flawed, frustrating, breathtaking experiment of shared life.
I’m starting with Pod Save America. Maybe a city council meeting. Maybe a voter guide. But mostly, I’m starting by saying: I care again. Out loud. Even when it hurts. Even when I’m tired.
5. A Blessing for the Turn
I gave my heart to a small collective, and it broke me open.
Now I give my attention to the bigger one —
my city, my state, my country.
I will not go numb. I will not look away.
I will care, even when it’s inconvenient.
Even when it’s overwhelming.
Because that’s what I do with what breaks me —
I turn it into devotion.