Inspiration vs. Motivation: My Election Hangover

I find myself suffering from another election hangover. Perhaps not as intense as the 2016 presidential election, but Super Tuesday knocked my pins out from under me. The sadness is real.

Almost two years ago, I signed up to see Elizabeth Warren speak at the Woburn High School. For a reason I cannot recall, Mark and I were both a little out of sorts before we went. In fact, we almost bagged the event, but rallied enough to try something new. We're not political activists. We read. We get informed. We vote. We're thoughtful with our ideas, but going to hear a politician speak - an atypical occurrence.

Warren's mom, Pauline, working at Sears in plaid

Two hours later, our energy transformed, we jumped on the Warren bandwagon. At that point, she'd not announced she was running for president, but man, I wanted her! That evening, as she's done so many times since, she shared her economic story growing up. Warren's father had a heart attack when Elizabeth was 12. As a result, he couldn't work. Her 50 year-old stay-at-home mother, went down the road to Sears and got a minimum wage job answering phones. That job leanly supported her family and saved them from losing their home. Can you imagine that being an option today?

In any case, she didn't grow up with wealth. Rather, she experienced financial hardships and life challenges in a way I experience as familiar. The sense of, "Oh, I know that one." Not because my life mirrored hers, but because I'm well acquainted with financial woes, and have deep gratitude for the government supported programs that help families stay afloat. During my teens, my mother's schizophrenia prevented her from maintaining a steady job. She received disability, did occasional house cleaning work, received food stamps, qualified for heat assistance, and would wait in line for blocks of cheese and similar goods at the local food pantry. My father paid $35/week in child support, and my mother would regularly ask her own, retired mother, to help out with our rent. Lest you believe we could have skimped in some other way to need less, I honestly don't know where we could have shaved any fat.

For most of my childhood, we'd lived with my grandparents, and during part of that time, my mother worked as a secretary. When my grandfather died, and my grandmother sold the house, we lived, a brief and chaotic few months, in my aunt's basement. Then we moved into a one-bedroom apartment, which required all of the help I referenced, and more, to keep us afloat.

From the time I was 12, I babysat, and that money helped sometimes, too. At 15, I desperately looked for a real job, but no one would hire me, because I was too young. The day I turned 16, I rode my bike to Kentucky Fried Chicken, where my favorite cousin worked, and got a job. After that, I paid for my own clothes and occasional frivolous items, unless they were Christmas gifts.

I possess no political aspirations - none - zero. Yet, when I watched Hilary Clinton run for president, it stirred a sense of rightful place in me. A reminder that women are never less than, and deserve to know this inside and out, and be treated accordingly. It wasn't a new concept, but it's different to see someone taking action that proves the truth - taking a risk to represent my gender in a big and respectable manner. And then she lost in a way that shocked and shook me to my core.

Senator Elizabeth Warren on Ellen

Once I heard Warren speak, I found that place within awaken again. Interestingly, the truth felt all the more inspired, because I had an allegiance with her ordinary history. A woman, raised by a janitor and a secretary could become President of the United States! Somehow, I adopted this as an endorsement to be all that is within me to be, even if I don't know what that looks like yet.

Sitting with Warren's Super Tuesday losses, including her home state of Massachusetts, where she won her senate re-election handily in 2018, I began to realize how this landed in me. It's not only that I appreciated her pragmatic policy ideas and conviction to end corruption while giving everyone (like me...like her) a fair shot at health and success. She provided true inspiration to me. By inspiration, I mean, permission for me to stretch in ways I ordinarily wouldn't. Inspiration helps me open to possibilities by expanding the aperture of my view. It allows for a wide horizon of vision.  Inspiration helps me create space for the unknown in my own path.

It's different from motivation, which I believe is an impetus to take action with a particular objective in mind. As a result, motivated actions are generally agenda driven. Motivation sometimes takes the form of fear, "If I don't do this, the worst will happen." Or, "I need to lose 10 pounds to fit into that outfit for the wedding." Other types of motivation may be born of inspiration, but still inherently contain an expected or desired outcome, "If that person can become a manager, and he's an idiot, then I certainly can, too. I'm going for it!" This is different from inspiration, as I mean it.

I perceive inspiration to be more akin to an intention (a desired emotional experience). With a clear intention, there is no attachment to the outcome. The end result does not need to "look" a certain way. Instead, the intention provides a guidepost or compass setting for each next step along the path...without knowing what shape the magic might take to feel the peace, love, joy, or gratitude I desire. Inspiration allows a kind of inner expansion of me, which might result in some external manifestation, but I have no scheme for what that might be or look like.

Reflecting on these past few years, I've discovered I derive inspiration from something bigger than me...not exactly something to "aspire" to, because, as I said, I have no political calling.  Rather, someone unwittingly inspirational beckons a part of me to expand. In the Warren example, I'd found an intelligent, thoughtful, funny, compassionate ally from the less desirable side of the tracks. Someone who shared my under-represented gender, and bravely proposed to her husband over 39 years ago (as I did with my own husband about 24 years ago). A woman who sought to do something that's never been done successfully before in America. I experienced Super Tuesday as a crushing blow to my spirit - as though her loss was my loss. I can't imagine what it must have felt like for her.

Elizabeth Warren announces suspension of her presidential campaign

Did I have an agenda?  Maybe. I mean, I would have loved for her to easily win the nomination, and then the presidency.  But mostly, I believe the sadness I feel is derived from a lost inspiration.  And loss requires grief.  With her official withdrawal from the Presidential campaign, my heart feels heavy.

Sitting with all of this, I asked a couple of friends what inspires them. My friend, Ed, said, "Someone who is a good person!" I found that answer especially interesting, because Ed represents exactly what he's inspired by. He is kind, funny, generous, trustworthy...so many good things. I'm not sure what to make of that answer. I find myself heartily grateful for good people. I'm lucky to be surrounded by many. For me, it's still different from inspiration. I wonder, what inspires you?

With love and open to the next inspiration,

Joanne Lutz