When I receive the identical message from multiple places, my ears perk up. Apparently 2017 brings me “Know Thyself.” You’d think at sixty-years old I’d have that figured out and be comfortably settled into nurturing her. Even celebrating her. Still working on it.

Just a few months ago, the notion of President Obama handing the keys of The White House over to a crude, boastful, realty TV host seemed impossible. Celebrating the election of the first woman President of the United States seemed eminent and I was excited beyond words. Let’s just say, I cried for two days after the election.

And then I did what I believe in. I found a way to turn my energy positive. I vowed to answer the Universal wake-up call and become involved. To get off my ass and stop relying on others. Take a stand. I researched the Mission and Vision of the Women’s March on Washington womensmarch.com and registered for the sister event in Indianapolis.

The minute my friend Nancy and I stepped out of my car in Circle Center Mall parking garage, the excitement was palpable. The vibe positive. Pink hats covering gray hair dissolved my fear of being the single oldest participant in the crowd. Groups of women excitedly helping others make their way to the State House alleviated any fear that the crowd might be surly or small.

Sign reading was worth the trip. My favorites were “Make America Kind Again” and one of my favorite quotations by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, “Because well-behaved women seldom make history.” One birthday, two of my loved ones independently chose a card for me featuring that quotation. Loved it! Nancy’s favorites were “I Can’t Believe I’m Still Protesting this Shit!” and “We are the granddaughters of the witches you didn’t burn.” Grandmas, daughters, and granddaughters stood together holding signs. Little girls claimed “Girl Power!” and “Future POTUS!” And Oh! the creative messages regarding  another p-word (think cat). Call me old fashioned, but I still have trouble with that word. I do, however, stand for the right of any human who has one to call hers what she chooses.

For me, protesting something was a bucket list item, and I knew eventually, I’d find something about which I cared deeply enough to engage. On Saturday, standing with my friend, a few acquaintances, several thousand Hoosiers, and millions of women and men worldwide to send a peaceful, yet resistant, message to our new administration gave me chills and I can’t stop looking at social media images and smiling.

Pink hats off to Terri Siler and all who organized the Indianapolis event. To the speakers, and to every participant. . . we were impressive! I saw no expressions of hate, but rather the brand of love and acceptance that produces resistance, and is often mislabeled as “hate” by those who disagree.

My daughter, who marched in Denver, and I texted photos to each other and she called excited after she left her march and told me how thankful she was that I was her mother and that we shared this passion. Mother/daughter moment? You bet!

Relatively new to Facebook, I had politely avoided expressing political beliefs on social media. But Saturday, I proudly posted pictures of our rally. Other than sharing this with my daughter, my greatest thrill was when my middle school social studies teacher posted on my FB, “You were doing this stuff on the playground back at North Grove Elementary.” I howled.

Yes, Debi, know thyself. To those who marched in Washington and around the world, to those who chose not to march, I say, march toward self!