Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

I woke up this morning not wanting to wake up.

It’s how I’ve felt for the past week, since our country went nut-job bonkers and elected a conman its 45th president. I’ve been sluggish, down, depressed, uninspired, stunned. I was able to accept George W. Bush. I could have accepted John McCain, Mitt Romney, Jeb Bush, John Kasich, Marco Rubio. Even Ted Cruz.

Wait—just kidding. Not Ted Cruz.

I digress. My feelings for Donald Trump’s election are raw and real. I hate him, I hate what he stands for, I hate his racist impulses, I hate his xenophobic impulses, I hate that people fell for his bluster, I hate that the wall he was planning on building was a lie, as was the deportation force, as was the “Mexico will pay for it” promise. It was all nonsense, and you fools fell for it. And I am FUCKING DAMAGED BECAUSE OF IT.

Deep breath. Deep breath.

This morning I arrived at the Laguna Coffee Company, ordered a cup of iced java, had a seat. They play pretty good music here, and it went from Guns n Roses to Cream to Rush to “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. I wasn’t paying attention. But then I found my foot tapping. My head bobbing. At about 1:30 into the song, Terrell blares out a joyful “Ha!” that makes the entire song—and brought this inexplicable joy to my soul. I immediately purchased the song from iTunes, and am now playing it on an endless loop. It’s just a song. I know that. But something about it is hitting me right today. I need it.

Will everything change? Will Donald Trump decide to escape to Guam and never return? Will goodness and decency be restored? Will our nation immediately heal?

No.

But it’s a fantastic jam.

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