A few years ago I was seeing a therapist who told me he could commune with nature and heal people by sitting next to them. He swims in the ocean every morning and once, sensing his transcendental empathy, a whale surfaced near him and they shared a profound moment of bonding. A few weeks later, my girlfriend’s dog bit him.
One topic we talked about constantly was politics. To be clear, he talked politics and I, well, I smiled and waved.
If you’ve ever seen the animated kids movie “Madagascar,” you know where I borrowed that phrase from. Those penguins are my role models. “Smile and wave” basically means, “go along to get along.” It means nodding even when you disagree and not making waves, with the aim of avoiding uncomfortable conversations. It’s my solution all for potentially awkward social situations. It’s why, when I quit that therapist after a year, he still didn’t know that I was (and still am)…conservative.
Yes, I understand that I may have transformed before your eyes into a monster. That’s why I don’t tell many people. Philosophically, I am homeless here in Newburyport. It’s obvious whenever a new acquaintance brings up politics and automatically assumes we share the same views; it’s obvious when my social media feed is flooded with posts demonizing people like me, who believe what I believe; it was obvious when I’d drive to Plum Island through a gauntlet of Harris/Walz signs. I know it goes both ways, depending on your information ecosystem and where you happen to live, but this has been my experience in our particular blue enclave.
Living among lots of smart people who espouse such polar opposite beliefs often makes me wonder if I’m wrong. Because of this I find an open mind to be imperative. If I reject everything I hear out of hand, then I’m just being ignorant. So I try to listen, and I measure what I hear against what I know. Consequently, I find myself — at least several times a week — smiling and waving, repeating agreeable phrases like, “yeah, totally” and “wow, that’s crazy,” drawing from the many months of practice in my ex-therapist’s office.
I have good friends, and I’m lucky to have them. Frankly, I do not want to know what their politics are. I don’t want to find out that despite their kindness, they could be triggered by the revelation of my political bent. I don’t want to find out that my supportive friends might suddenly reject me. It’s not worth it. I know what I know and I’m content to keep it to myself, though I often feel adrift in a homogeneously blue sea.
Unfortunately, if you find yourself identifying with the subject of this article — particularly in the wake of election season — and are hoping for a definitive solution, there really isn’t one. The easiest thing you can do is train yourself not to care what other people think. That’s hard with politics because no matter which way you swing, when you hear someone from the “other side” speak, all you hear is, “hi, I’m here to burn the world down.”
My only piece of advice is: People need to be allowed to choose to burn the world down, and you need to be ok with it. Focus on the people you care about and who care about you. If you’re good to them and provide a good example, they may end up believing what you believe. Otherwise, kiss your attachment goodbye. Another tip — find someone you can talk to, someone either likeminded or very open-minded, and decompress through conversation with this person as often as you need to. These are valuable friends. Finally, and maybe most importantly, learn how to organically smile and wave.
Peter Neverette
Newburyport resident
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