This week, I’m launching my color campaign. For people entering the winter. For people suffering from Sandy. For people who watch the news. For people who are afraid. For people who are following the political campaigns. For people who demonize other people. For people who are angry. For people who think the world is an awful place and is getting worse all the time.

I also want to share my decision not to vote in the presidential campaign tomorrow. This is, to me, a form of conscientious objection. During the Vietnam War, I began the process of declaring  my life-long opposition to war by declaring myself a conscientious objector. I lost the will to finish that process for various reasons and have regretted it ever since. The political campaign process has become an accumulation of things I do not believe in – war, corruption by corporate money, the degradation of political dialogue into attack and distortion, a refusal to help heal a grieving Mother Earth, the abandonment of the poor and the needy, the wanton misuse of technology by a greedy and corporatized media, the invasion of big money into a process meant for individual citizens,  an assault on teachers, librarians, government workers, culture. It is not one candidate or one party, but a system that no longer serves me or my values. My list is longer, but my intention is not to write about politics, or argue my decisions or to persuade anyone else to do what I am doing.

If I were to chronicle one of the most sacred elements of the American spirit, it would be the pursuit of individuality, another idea I believe has been corrupted by this political process. I will not fit myself into the left or the right, or label myself a liberal or conservative, or accept other people’s characterization’s of me, or see the world in such narrow and mind-shrinking terms. I am not comfortable in a system that billions of dollars on attack advertising while we toss teachers and librarians out into the streets and people in need of help do not receive any. It seems the definition of immoral to me. My candidate – one who will speak out against this process and these values and decline to participate in it –  is not out there yet, and neither is a political party I would wish to belong to.

An integral part of this kind of civics is the demonizing of opponents and people with differing views. For weeks I have heard people tell me the country will be destroyed if President Obama wins re-election, or if Mitt Romney does.  I don’t know anyone who is following the process or participating in it who is not angry or disturbed. The process does not, to me, elevate the civic spirit, but degrades it. I am not comfortable participating in it.

The political leaders I have admired in my life or in history would not, I believe, participate in this process either. As always, I am not looking to persuade anyone else to stay away from the polls, nor do I wish to argue my decision. I have already received many messages from good and well-meaning people urging me to vote, and making all the many good arguments for doing so. But I have examined my own conscience, looked in my own mirror, and I would not respect myself if I affirmed this process or enabled it. My politics will continue to go into my hospice work, my writing, my work with animals, my search for love and connection, my photography and my search for a meaningful life.

For me, politics has become personal, individual, and on a smaller and coherent scale. I respect the decisions of others and wish them peace and compassion. A good friend listened to my feelings and told me she disagreed with me, as she was going to vote, but she saw in me a conscientious objection she respected. She helped me clarify my feelings.

This time, I won’t lose my will. The values I wished to stand up for before are even more pressing now. It is, after all, a question of how I wish to live my life.