Last week I got to do one of my favorite things: I watched the Indigo Girls perform live. It was a beautiful night at the outdoor Greek theater in Los Angeles, and the stars were out.

The Hollywood kind, that is, though I’m sure the celestial kind were present as well. There’s too much light pollution in Los Angeles to see the glowing balls of gas. You need a telescope most nights, whereas the Hollywood stars were near enough to trip over.

Sara Gilbert arrived shortly after I did, and waited around in my general vicinity. I kept my cool even though Darlene Connor (from the original TV show Roseanne) — a smart-aleck, gender non-conforming kid of my own age — was hugely important to me growing up.

Once inside, I was about to sidle up familiarly to a man I was certain I knew from clergy circles. Barely in time to save myself from embarrassment, I realized I was recognizing Charlie Black from The Morning Show. (To be fair, Mark Duplass looks like that kindly church elder of middle-age you can find in every Presbyterian congregation.)

The brightest stars were on stage, of course. Amy Ray and Emily Saliers never fail to make their fans think and feel, hope and grieve. I always leave their shows with memories of delight and community. More than that even, I leave their shows with a call — to do more and to do better. The Indigo Girls are, after all, bona fide activists in addition to being brilliant musicians.

That night, I felt the call come to me in a song Emily wrote, “Look Long,” the name of their latest album. The song’s lyrics resonated with my own anxiety about democracy and the current election.

In the song, Emily road-trips with a friend, and “all the way to Nashville” they talk “about God and the Devil” and Armageddon — two women witnessing the world and searching for something to believe in that might replace the feeling of being so “unsettled.”

This desire for certainty leads Emily to reflect on the limitations of human knowing. Her grandfather “had a telescope and a magnifying glass. / Through the scope on starry nights we saw forever, / And in the morning Florida sun, I burned the grass with my magnifying glass.”

The telescope disperses focus into the future, finds stars, and glimpses hope; the magnifying glass focuses all energy on a single, present point, and burns.

From the Florida sun, Emily moves to “northern Minnesota” where “Me and Marsha went walking . . . / On a night so freezing cold the earth stood still. / She talked about the prophecies and the future generations, / And said, ‘Will you keep the faith?’ / I said, ‘I will, I will, I will.’”

I will . . . look long. I will . . . telescope. I will . . . remember that “the edge of the earth is an illusion,” a human certainty that time later unmasked as a fallible human projection.

Finally, Emily sang the very Southern benediction in the last verse: “God bless our brave little hearts and our inherent limitations / And our short-sighted plans and our collusion.”

And then she did what the Indigo Girls are famous for. She gave the microphone to the audience. Fans always get the cue, but this time, Emily asked: “Will you sing?” There was extra intention here. And so, when we sang the chorus, “Look long . . . ”, it felt to me like an oath we were swearing with Amy and Emily as witnesses.

Sitting there under the night sky, we vowed to look long. For me, this was a vow to keep the faith, beyond this election, beyond my natural sight, beyond the despair I sometimes cling to when the only other alternative is uncertainty.

I vowed to remember that sometimes my human sight mistakes a TV character for a good friend, and that, if I use a telescope, I can see beyond the pollution to the bright, shining stars.

I invite you to listen to "Look Long,” and let the words settle in you. You can watch a lyric video or experience the song live on NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert. (The performance of “Look Long” begins at the 5:30 mark.)

Democracy mentor Martin Luther King, Jr., said that “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” What commitments can you make to the long and ongoing struggle for democracy? What other ongoing struggles do you want to keep faith with?

People who answer a call towards advocacy and activism sometimes neglect their own self-care. It is crucial to stay in touch with the answers to these questions: What inspires you to commit yourself to the slow bending of the arc of the moral universe? What will help you sustain the energy you need for the long term? Who are the people you can count on to struggle with you? For guidance on connecting to your source of energy and on administering self-care, take a look at this spiritual practice by Dr. Joan Borysenko and sign up for Spirituality and Practice’s new e-course, From Burnout to Resiliency.