I gave answers like, “I’m not sure what’s gotten into me, but I’m going to a training about how to run for political office.”

Or, “I’ll be learning about how to campaign for office. But, I’m not planning to run for anything.”

After an incredible weekend spent with amazing women from around Minnesota and across the U.S., I’m still in a bit of shock about who I met, what I learned, and where it may take me.

I saw women from all backgrounds, some who hold office now, others who insist they’ll never run. Some college students, others who, within a decade, will be retiring from lifelong careers. Women interested in municipal government in their towns, tribal council in their villages, state congressional seats. And a few who long to be president.

During the weekend, these women learned how to raise funds, select staff, and run their campaigns. Most importantly, they learned to tell their stories, honestly, clearly, concisely.

This last skill is the one that still has my head spinning. These women told their stories – in heartfelt conversations, speeches, and even songs – of moments that changed them. Of personal heartache, refugee camps, homelessness,  violence. And, of survival and perseverance.

They told why they wanted to lead, why they could – and would – make a difference in the world around them.

I have no doubt that they will.

This experience has inspired me, slowly bringing me to the understanding that I, too, have a story to tell. That I want to make a difference. To lead a “political life.”

Not the politics that focuses on deceit, broken promises, and bureaucracy. But the kind that makes real change. That creates a society where  lives are better because I got involved in creating a solution for the world around me.

My story is still unfolding. I don’t have one clear mission for what I want to accomplish in the political arena.

But, I’m not going to make excuses anymore. I want to get involved. Whether this means running for office, supporting others who do, or involving myself in the issues of my communitiy, I want to lead a political life.

In all these reports, I have noticed one striking theme in interviews with Iranian citizens: that their concern, what really drives their passion, is this “landslide” victory – not its end result which keeps Ahmadinejad in power. As I read articles, watch news reports, hear radio commentaries, these citizens comment that if the election results had been closer, more “believable,” then the Iranian people would likely have accepted the outcome, and would not have risen up in anger.

Which brings me to the question that’s been on my mind: Why would the Iranian government  skew an election to yield such unbelievable results? If the objective was to remain in power, and they were intent on a particular election outcome, then couldn’t they have achieved the same result with a closer, let’s say 52% to 48%, victory? One where challenger Mir Hussein Moussavi could have received majority votes in more than two of Iran’s 31 provinces? In short, a result that appeared more plausible?

It seems to me that this is an issue of vanity. Someone – Ahmadinejad, supreme leader Khamenei, or others in power – wanted to be part of the winning team. Not the team that just barely won, but the team that won handily. This desire may have blinded them to the fact that a landslide victory would appear implausible to the people of their nation.  And would spark protests and reactions from the rest of the world.

In stark contrast to the government’s focus, the people of Iran have reacted by showing the strength of their community. In the midst of the Iranian government’s crackdown on journalism and social media – attempting to focus attention on back its own agenda – citizens have continued to hold silent protests, to share their stories, to document their experiences.

To me, this feels like a monumental example of how society is changing: The focus and power of “one” is giving way to the voices of many. Vain attempts to focus attention on one person, one entity, one “solution” is simply not realistic. Vast numbers of people, with their ability to organize and to distribute their message, are demanding that their voices be heard.

Of course, I don’t deny that there is a societal force to create icons from individuals – President Obama being the most obvious example – but I see changes in this iconic mentality as well. In the midst of an increasingly collaborative and participatory society, the icons themselves are asking for the community to get involved. Maybe it’s self-preservation, because the strength of any one personality will never withstand the scrutiny of the world. Maybe it’s the latest fad in sociological study, as all sorts of books and academic dialogue would suggest.

Or maybe it’s because the voices of the crowd, even without forethought and organization, are simply more powerful than the vain who wish to concentrate power unto themselves.