What These Times Ask of Us: Pt.1
None of this is normal. Where do we go from here?
“If the world is to be healed through human efforts, I am convinced it will be by ordinary people, people whose love for this life is even greater than their fear.” - Joanna Macy
I have a lot of conversations that go like this these days.
“How are you doing?”
“Good, how are you?”
“Oh , you know, good… given everything.” hand gesture to the world at large
Both people understand this means “the geopolitical landscape in which we’re living, in which our democratically elected president either has or acts like he has dementia and is on a massive power trip, and no one can have a logical conversation”.
We nod and move on.
Have you had a conversation like this recently?
In which it’s been accepted that this is just how things are now?
Or maybe the conversation is more like this:
“I don’t understand why someone would [insert recent political action or widely held belief by one sphere of society here].”
“Me either.”
Both lack things I believe we need to sustain our souls:
an acknowledgement - a true acknowledgement - that living in a constant state of divisiveness, seperation from one another rooted in fear, and an existence in which we have neither time nor space in our souls to feel into our pain is not normal.
empathy for the human beings around us
acknowledgement of our interconnectedness with all living things — all sentient beings — including those who infuriate us, dehumanize us, love us, celebrate us, mystify us.
A belief that love can prevail.
A teacher of mine says often that the only thing greater than the love of power is the power of love.
And I have to agree, although I’m not sure the belief in this is something that can be taught. It has to be experienced. It requires an abiding faith in the lived experience of love.
Over the next few articles, I’ll be exploring what it means to have these ideas alive in our lives, carefully pulling at threads of each one, starting with the first one today:
An acknowlegment - a true acknowledgment - that living in a constant state of divisiveness, seperation from one another rooted in fear, and an existence in which we have neither time nor space in our souls to feel into our pain is not normal.
How can we understand from this statement what this time is asking from us?
Put another way, what do we need to cultivate in our hearts to navigate the extraordinary mess we’re in?
None of this is normal.
On a personal level, I do mean that the person in charge of this country(the US) has created conditions that are not normal. The violence of people being separated from families; the decline into authoritarianism; the fear of speaking your mind; the constant chaos created by this one man.
Widening the lens, though, I would say this has been true for some time. Life is the best it’s ever been for humans, but by what measure? We’re living longer, but we aren’t necessarily happier.We’re healthier, but with more knowledge about how to stay healthy comes more societal conflict over how regulated health should be and how healthcare should be handled.
In this better-than-ever-before world, however, my main concerns are:
a) how much we work
b) how much social comparison there is due to social media and how much this contributes to excessive striving for what one would like to become
c) how little of a social safety net there is and therefore how much those with less wealth need to work to live, or decide to sacrifice something altogether(e.g. medicine for food), and how this disproportionately affects Black and Brown folks; and
d)how much we consume, and how our consumption is harming this planet, even though we refuse to acknowledge the fiery axe hanging over our collective head.
Layer in a recent pandemic and the social stress of disconnection due to different value systems, plus wars that leaders from all sides continue to try to justify while innocent civilians are harmed, starved, and killed — oh, and AI - and yeah, this isn’t normal.
This isn’t normal.
Or maybe it is normal, and the concerning part is that no one acknowledges the ways in which this differs from whatever “normal” is.
The pain we feel when witnessing the suffering of children ceaselessly, when driving past someone begging for food on the corner, when realizing how tariffs will impact your cash flow at your new small business, when hearing there was another mass shooting, the wrench in your heart when you realize it’s not a far-fetched possibility you or your loved one will be deployed or deported, that your family will be torn apart, the fear of the future your child is facing, the fear that you may be replaced by AI soon, not as a future threat, and you do not know how you will find a new job in this market.
This pain, this sorrow, this grief, they need to be known for what it is. By us, the ones experiencing it, and by those who are in our lives. Facing what we feel is something the world needs from us right now.
This is not a call to get angry, to get vengeful, or to be spiteful. It’s not a call to place blame. It’s a call to allow your pain to be seen. To allow yourself to be seen as the world is meeting you, without the defenses or walls you’ve so carefully built.
Sometimes, your vulnerability is the best gift you can give other people.A life rooted in fear is hardly a life at all
When I think about the climate of the world today, I think about reactivity. I think about polarization, even though I don’t believe any of us is as different from one another as we’d like to think - no matter our skin color, our party, our vote.
More specifically, I think about a period of my life when I lived in this state. It was not some fleeting outburst or a passing need to scream very loudly into a pillow, or even a desire to shake my dog, who likes to eat everything on a walk - napkins, cigarette butts - senseless.
I was constantly afraid, but I don’t think I could have named it that. I was also constantly angry, because I didn’t want to admit I was afraid. And I was more specifically angry at the man who I blamed for “making me like this”, “making my life like this” etc.
Beyond that, I was angry at everyone else who didn’t get it. I was angry at the people who didn’t understand how to be there. I was angry at anyone who didn’t rigidly take my side.
So, a lot of people. Because I was broadly angry, and being on my side either required blind loyalty or deep empathy.
Yes, it was a sexual assault that perpetuated this period of deep anger, mistrust, and fear of really all men, but especially men that looked like him.
And sexual assault is a systemic issue we need to address. This is not new.
But what was new to me was the day someone told me, in so few words, that I was responsible for my own happiness.
Life happens. Life is unfair. I had two choices: to face my pain, really face it, with my heart, not my mind, and begin to try to choose to be happy. Or to stay stuck, forever angry.
Luckily, I chose the former.
The latter is so easy, though, isn’t it? Our fear feels justified when our circumstances were not chosen for us, but are something we were born into — like the identity we inhabit. And our fear is often justified.
But our reactivity is not.
Fear is not a unique experience. Everyone is afraid of something. Most people are afraid of many things. And most of our fears — our deepest fears — are what we have in common, not what should be separating us.
If I assume that every man’s life is a little bit easier because he does not have to carry the weight of worrying about being sexually harassed or assaulted or raped, I may assume correctly. I may not. Sexual violence against men is also problem.
But if that is as far as I go when empathizing with the men around me, I’ve already othered them. I’ve forgotten the other fears they hold: fear of death. of not being able to provide for their families. Of pain. Of being emasculated. Of growing old. Of being abandoned by everyone they love.
Most importantly, fear keeps us from fully living our lives. Look around you. It is a miracle you are here, in this moment, breathing, exchanging oxygen with millions of trees, with a heart that won’t stop beating until your last breath. Your life is a miracle.
Fear keeps us from opening to possibility. What might you be missing out on?
I can’t tell you for sure, but to say that the more I act from a place of love for myself and the world, the more beautiful my life becomes. Not because anything has changed. But because I have.
I appreciate what I have more. I slow down. I’m able, if only for a second, to see a little bit of myself in people who are difficult for me. My capacity for compassion widens.Anger is not the medicine. It’s the drug.
Which leads nicely into my last bit, which is that righteous anger can be useful when it’s motivating us into action, but not when it’s the state we’re in.
For example, if we’re angry, and we get it out in a healthy way - going for a run, doing consistent political action - that’s okay. But the other alternatives are:
-getting it out in an unhealthy way(i.e., trolling people on social media; actively engaging in non-constructive conversation even when you had the prior knowledge that the person you were engaging with didn’t have the capacity to listen deeply and/or that you didn’t have the capacity to listen to them)
-not getting it out at all. This usually looks like either bottled up anger and resentment that eventually explodes, or anger that just leaks from your being, constantly, probably in some surprising ways to the people around you. You are often obsessively thinking about the thing making you angry. Your anger is running the show — and you aren’t facing what’s underneath it head-on.
Living in anger - and it’s many faces - is not what the world needs from us right now. It’s not what the world ever needs. Anger is an unhealthy response to a world in desperate need of healing.
And if you are hurting, I understand the appeal of rage: it will temporarily make you feel better. You likely feel justified in your anger. It’s addictive to be angry. To give in a little bit, piece by piece, to the rage that simmers.
But what will you get when that rage explodes, and all you’re left with is your own pain — and the harm you’ve inflicted on others in your pain?
We are human.
I have harmed people, and I will harm them again. And so will you.
However, if we can find it within ourselves to respond with compassion to people who are hurting, we begin to step into what the world needs.
A balm for a planet full of people who are hurting just like you.
If that feels like too big of an ask, that’s okay.
Compassionate responses to pain don’t start by extending compassion to others. They start by extending compassion to our own pain.
The work begins by being brave enough to face our own emotions so we can give them permission to be.
When we give ourselves that permission, we give it to others, too.
Takeaways
Sometimes, your vulnerability is the best gift you can give other people.
Our capacity for compassion, gratitude, and awe widen when we refuse to live in fear.
Compassionate responses to pain don’t start by extending compassion to others. They start by extending compassion to our own pain.
The work begins by being brave enough to face our own emotions so we can give them permission to be. When we give ourselves that permission, we give it to others, too.