Our Hearts Cracking Open

Last night, as I tried to fall asleep after a giddy hour on the blogs fantasizing about a Cheney indictment, my thoughts turned to all the people whose lives were in ruins as a result of Plamegate. Not moments before, I was glorying in the demise of my perceived enemies. I had felt that I could sleep soundly, not just last night, but for every night for the rest of my life. All those anxious hours of the last five years had been for naught. Truly, if Fitzgerald continues his courageous path, I could believe that the truth will out. That if you give them enough rope, they will hang themselves. I could rest soundly, always, knowing that the meek do indeed inherit the earth. I suddenly believed again, in Democracy, in God, in the power of Good over Evil, in the Toothfairy, whatever. What a remarkable lesson, I mused, for my youthful soul. The worm turns over and those who appear to triumph at the expense of vast multitudes of poor and disenfranchised will fall. Their lies will be revealed.

Now, I must admit I am new to the blogosphere. My husband didn’t share in my gloating and urged caution. Today, I see why. One un-sourced comment on Arianna’s blog sent the wires atwitter, and I, like many, was drunk on rumors. Today, of course, my heart fell. I jumped from bed to scan the headlines. Where was the WSJ story citing Cheney as the center of the investigation? I spent the day despondent, having gained some stinging perspective. I will have to wait a few more weeks it seems. Fitzgerald is asking for an extension of the grand jury. And I have vowed to stop my obsessive speculation.

But last night, when I should have slept like a lamb, I felt disturbed. I gave my husband a congratulatory high five after our goodnight peck (something that’s never before occurred in our eight years of marriage) and proceeded to toss and turn. As soon as my head settled down, my heart began to hurt. My eyes flew open. I was SAD for Dick Cheney. Even his wife Lynne. If indeed he was indicted, or even implicated in Plamegate, his political career would be shot. Everything he has worked for is coming undone. I began to feel the fear he has felt for the last two years, the fear of being discovered. Maybe even the fear he has always felt. The fear that caused him and his advisors to out Valerie Plame and discredit her husband. I began to hurt for them, too. Where is she now, and Wilson? How has their family been affected? And then the floodgates opened: I felt pain for (God help me!) Judy Miller. And Scooter. Even Rove. Tony Blair. And poor Dr. Kelly and his widow, and their family. The American people and the British too, lied to, intentionally. The folks in Gitmo. And Abu Ghraib. I positively winced for the soldiers who abused the prisoners, themselves victims of a culture of violence, become perpetrators. Naturally, all the people of Iraq rose before me, dead and alive, thousands upon thousands of them. And our soldiers, and their families, of course. But in a new way. These victims were victims not just of a war. We, all of us, are victims and perpetrators of a positively insane worldview. One of institutionalized violence and deception, bred of a deep fear of vulnerability.

I am still waiting for the truth to out, for the rise of the weak, for the end to this corrupt nightmare, for the re-balancing of power in a world gone mad for money and power. But my heart is not gleeful or joyous. As I gaze at what we have wrought, with an eye of hope for what we will learn and become, my heart is no longer hard and small. It is warm and open and aches with longing for healing for us all.