Today, at last, is Election Day. Is it the new Independence Day? Will it be remembered as the day the passion of our activism finally melted down this glass ceiling? Or will it be remembered more like a creepy continuation of Halloween as Rejection Day, Dejection Day or maybe Erection Day? Hopefully the voters will actually be allowed to decide, and we won't have another Selection Day. And then there's always the possibility of Insurrection Day, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Meanwhile, today is the day when all of America, and much of the world, stands poised, holding our collective inspiration of breath, of vision, of potential, watching, working and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Will it be the sensible pump in this season's new neutral? Or will it be the boot heel we fear will crush the hopes of democracy rising and maturing?

We get out early and vote, and we wait. Or we work all day, waiting to vote, then we wait some more. It's just a few hours either way, except for the many who have already cast their ballot in early voting, wanting to get it over and done with already. And still they wait. Even those choosing not to vote – I believe they too are waiting, wondering, unable to be truly uninterested. No one can deny the deep impact of this day.

It's a powerful moment for sacred pause. Despite the busy-ness and tension of the day, the frenetic campaigning and lampooning that have almost equally contributed to the education of voters in this election cycle, the angst and outrage that have driven much of our political life over the last months, along with bursts of fervent idealism and re-invigorated engagement, today is different. We have done nearly all we can and now it is time to midwife whatever future is to be born this night. Let us proceed gently.

This is the moment, the last long moment before the declaration we are all waiting for, the moment to hold clear the vision of the country, the world, we envision, we claim for ourselves and for those to follow. This must be the world we now commit to building, through deep transformation, over long years, with unexpected partners, in ways we haven't even imagined yet – no matter what happens today. In this moment, before our own collective choice is made known, we all, every one of us, holds a vision of hoped-for reality, not knowing whether it will come to pass in our lifetime. In this moment all potential futures are viable, everyone manifesting their intention in the form of a ballot, or an abstention, a ride offered to the polls, a late night of counting, an oval sticker on a lapel.

Whatever your vision of the world of tomorrow - and I mean tomorrow literally as in Wednesday - hold your vision clear and firm today, no matter what you think, fear or desperately plead with your chosen Deity may happen tonight. We need a community of visionaries to move forward, a community of citizens who dare to imagine what the future could be like when things change, when better times come, when we are great because we are dedicated to the greatest good. Whatever that is for you: believe in it today. And honor all those who hold a vision, even a last faint glimmer of hope. In hoping for a better future, no matter how we see it coming about, we are united. At least for today. Let it be so.