The upcoming presidential election is the most important in my lifetime. Because I’m privileged to live in progressive California and I have a job that provides me with flexible paid time off, I journeyed to Michigan where every vote matters, to knock on the doors of registered Democrats who have voted only intermittently.

It’s been many years since I returned to the state where I was born. I traveled to the small towns along the shore of Lake Michigan, an area far removed from my urban childhood in Detroit.

I explained to people that they had options for voting—order a ballot they could mail, vote early at their polling place, or vote on election day—to motivate them to show up. I followed my instructions from the Progressive Turnout Project. Don’t discuss candidates. Ask them their plan. Have them say it out loud to make a commitment to themselves to vote.

With the list on my phone, I walked through neighborhoods and introduced myself over and over to strangers. At each porch, I took a deep breath and centered myself for a few seconds before ringing the bell. With many households having doorbell cameras, I smiled at the anonymous person inside. When they weren’t home, I followed my instructions—wait 30 seconds, try again, wait another 30 seconds and leave a door hanger about their voting options.

I walked past political signs on many lawns. Mixed in with the signs I agreed with were the ones I didn’t. To care for myself contemplating this contrast, woven into each day was time to ground in the beauty of nature wherever I was.

Living for years on the West Coast where trees stay green all year, Michigan’s fall colors took my breath away. I touched the leaves’ soft surface, and was in awe that each one was unique in the world.

Walking along the sidewalks, I savored that sound from my childhood—the crunch of fallen leaves beneath my feet.

Lake Michigan in moonlight

I anticipated that people I met would be agreeable. What I didn’t expect was the depth of connection they offered in our brief interactions. I was moved by the woman who shared about the importance of valuing Vietnam veterans like her son, then hugged me before I left. There was the man who touched his heart as he thanked me for my positivity. And the activist of 103 who proudly displayed her lawn signs and told me she voted in her first election for Franklin Roosevelt.

On my first day, just getting started with everything, I stepped out of my rental car and was organizing my stuff—water, a snack, a pile of door hangers, the map on my phone with the list of addresses—when I heard a loud voice on a driveway across the street. I looked up to see what was going on and looked down quickly so I could stay incognito. A man was shouting at his neighbor about why he was voting for That Guy. The neighbor next door was apparently articulating why he had made the opposite choice. He was talking in a quiet, calm voice and I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I could tell when he was done with whatever point he was making by the return of the shouting full of lies. They eventually said goodbye and went into their homes.

This exchange has stuck with me as the personification of why I needed to be there. The other candidate’s whole persona and campaign is centered on stirring up strong emotions rooted in falsehoods and a skewed perspective of being wronged—anger, victimhood, hate, fear, domination, and lies upon lies.

As always, grounding in the earth is what kept me going. Sitting on a bench overlooking the vastness of Lake Michigan and feeling the sun on my face. Observing squirrels with fur in an array of colors I’d never seen before. Listening to the nearby waves and the tree frogs every night. Taking in the subtle changes in the leaves’ colors from the first day to the last. Standing on the wet sand and feeling the cold lake water washing over my bare feet.

This is what energizes me when our flawed species is at its worst. I’m forever here on the side that’s not shouting and spewing. I’m here on the side that elevates compassion, joy, community, inclusion, justice, kindness. I’m here to make a heartfelt connection with people who welcome me instead of finding me a threat, and to speak up for science and the earth.

And no matter how loud the others shout, I’m not backing away.

With gratitude to Dianne and Pat for hosting me.