On Action Over Despondence
- Caroline Mauldin
- Oct 10, 2024
- 5 min read
The only recognizable feature of hope is action.
-Grace Paley
Notions & Contemplations
Despair’s Kryptonite
It was the summer of 2020 when I first encountered the glum, buzz-kill of a companion, Despondence. I was well acquainted with the ups and downs of life–and, thankfully, the tools to navigate them. But with systemic racism laid bare in a world halted by COVID-19, I felt as if a heavy cloak was weighing down my bones. The depth and vastness of our collective problems was too much to process, much less move through.
Then, in a stroke of divine timing, I met my coach, Ben; in our very first meeting, he helped me identify my antidote to despondence: a little thing called action. I didn’t need to solve the world’s problems, Ben reminded me, I just needed to take a step, however small, towards them.
Four years later, I wonder if that summer was merely training wheels for the roller coaster to come. The last two weeks alone have made me dizzy with existential fear and grief. But here’s the thing, friends: somewhere between the devastating impact of monster hurricanes and a bewilderingly close presidential race, real lives hang in the balance. For the families whose homes were washed away by rising waters and the women who need access to basic healthcare, despondence is simply not an option. They have to act; we have to act.
Onward,
Assume the Responsibility of Citizenship
For the last several weekends, my almost-six-month-old son and I have been canvassing in the greater Atlanta area. I believe that voting is a sacred obligation–a personal responsibility as an American citizen–and I love talking to my neighbors about it. There’s something delightfully old-fashioned about knocking on a stranger’s door and engaging in a conversation about common interests. Some folks share who they’re supporting for President; others prefer to keep it to themselves. Whatever the case, my response is the same: please vote; and when you do, take friends and family with you.
Unfortunately I can’t knock on all of your doors, dear readers, but I am here for you nonetheless! Find the statement that resonates with you, then take action.
“I don’t think my vote is that important.” → Your vote is essential. Every year, dozens of races up and down the ballot are decided by a handful of votes. You could cast the deciding ballot. Talk to a friend about your concern or email me.
“I haven’t decided who I’m voting for.” → Let’s talk! Just reply to this email; I’d love to help answer any questions you have.
“I will be voting, but I don’t want to talk about it.” → Fair enough. How about taking your spouse or best friend with you to vote?
“I want to vote, but I don’t know how.” → I’ve got you! Plug in your info here to learn about early voting dates in your state, the location of your voting precinct, and what you need to bring with you.
“I can’t wait to vote!” → Awesome– now share your voting joy with your community! Check in with at least three friends and family members–even those folks you assume will be voting. If you’re a social media person, find sample social media posts here.
Of all the things you can do during these wild times, casting your vote is one of the greatest antidotes to despondence. If you have any questions or hesitations about voting, please email me!
“Caring is not limited by proximity or borders; it knows no boundaries.”
– Malala Yousafzai
For as long as I can remember, Western North Carolina has been a landscape of my heart. I grew up spending long stretches of summer in the Southern Appalachians, where I learned to paddle in cold rivers, dance barefoot under the stars, and write poetry about love and lightning bugs. My parents now live in Highlands, NC, where I spend as much time as possible. Thankfully they were spared the worst of Hurricane Helene’s wrath, but recovery for them and so many loved ones will be long and hard, as seen in this brief video produced by a family friend and this incredible account of a family and their beloved pets.
In times like these, distance can feel debilitating; but there are many ways we can help from afar:
Support a family-owned business that is employing locals and leading sustainable recovery efforts:
Book a weekend retreat at the beautiful Horse Shoe Farm in Hendersonville (which we’ll all need after this election anyway).
Order 100% grass-fed and pasture-raised meats from Hickory Nut Gap Farm, a family-owned operation specializing in regenerative farming.
Book a fly-fishing trip for next year through Headwaters Outfitters, or take care of your holiday shopping list at their online store.
Read about the devastation as told by locals, and donate to a GoFundMe:
Valerie and her son scrambled to the roof of their home as the water rose around them; they weren’t sure if their beloved animals would survive.
Flooded rivers and broken infrastructure means many locals are facing a winter without income.
Many Appalachian artists and small businesses are rebuilding after losing everything to water and mud.
Shannon Whitworth and Woody Platt are award-winning musicians based in the small town of Rosman, just outside of Brevard. They are fulfilling immediate needs, including cash assistance, to communities throughout Western North Carolina. (Check out Woody’s latest album, released last week, here.)
For those in the Charleston area, grab a ticket to the Carolinas Together Hurricane Relief Concert at the Gaillard Center on November 3rd to benefit the North Carolina Arts Foundation's NC Arts Disaster Relief Fund.
Western North Carolina is a magical place facing a long recovery. Whatever you can do to support the region’s artists, businesses, and families, know that you have my deep thanks.
Comments