I went to vote this morning a little after 8.

I had to move the car and thought I would get it out of the way, and also thought it might be less crowded than later in the day.

And I was notably mistaken.

The place was jumping. There were tons of people, and plenty of crisscrossing traffic, as I went from the person who told me where to get a ballot, to the table that had the ballot, to the booths where we could vote, to the booth where our ballots were scanned.

It felt vaguely Electoral Cha-Cha Slide.

Someone’s hyper French bulldog was agitating people who weren’t necessarily comfortable with hyper dogs. A question was aggrievedly raised as to the propriety of dogs in the polling center. Perhaps we will vote on this next year.

This was all par for the course.

Here was the thing, however, that caught my attention:

When I got my ballot, and looked for an available voting booth, there were none.

Then one would open up, and I would start towards it, only to realize someone coming from the opposite direction was already waiting.

This happened several times.

Then I found myself waited with small groups of expectant voters in makeshift holding pen, like democracy’s on-deck circle, wondering when our at-bat would come

Then I let someone who had come after me take the booth I was waiting for.

And then I got my booth.

It was a moment of minor institutional chaos.

And it’s the sort of thing, at supermarkets, and bathroom lines, and merge lanes that drive me crazy. I like order. Create a clear waiting system and honor it. Everybody wait your turn. Don’t cut the line. Don’t assume your time is more important than anyone else’s. That’s how we get in, get out, and get on with our lives.

Today, however, the chaos gave me hope.

I saw people participating in the democratic process, with all its flaws, and with all the active, progressive, complexifying efforts to undermine it arising constantly.

So many factors in society would discourage us from doing so: anger, alienation, apathy, mistrust, etc.

There is, no doubt, someone reading this now who thinks I am naïve to participate.

There are people who think their vote doesn’t matter.

And for today, the only thing I would say to them, is that there is someone who wants the opposite outcome from you who is sure theirs does. There is someone motivated to vote by their desire to harm you, or someone, or something you care about. And choosing silence when asked to speak is rarely a good thing.

For me, though, voting today was not just a civic exercise. It was a metaphor.

There will always be a hyper bulldog in between you and your destination: something that disturbs your peace, or maybe even frightens you as you seek to move toward an exercise of power.

Move anyway.

There will always be a crowd where you wanted an unobstructed path.

Walk anyway.

There will always be someone coming from the opposite direction vying for your spot. It may cause you to question yourself. It may discourage you. It just can’t make you turn back.

Persist. Insist. Resist the temptation to quit.

Because there will always be new groups formed of shared experience; suddenly, you’re in an on-deck circle with people you didn’t know.

There will always be opportunities to help someone along the way. At our most self-directed, or even self-willed, we can still be a gift to someone else.

I learned years ago, when confused in a class, or a group, to always ask my question when I didn’t understand..

Because if I have a question, without fail, three other people have the same one.

And if all it costs me is my ego, being willing to be publicly uncertain, while everyone around me pretends to be silently sure, I’m ok with that.

Sometimes our voices can inspire new ideas.

Sometimes our voices can start new conversations.

Sometimes our voices can protect people in need of an ally, or an advocate, or a guide, or a friend.

Today I used my voice.

And I will look, with hope, to tomorrow.