Be Kind Anyway

The internet right now is overwhelmed with messages of hope and despair, often both at the same time. Extraordinary times creates extreme responses—for worse and for better. Sometimes it is mind-boggling that some people can be so cruel or selfish. And yet, it is utterly amazing to witness the self-sacrifice of so many in the face of these difficult times.

For survivors, these times can strike at the core of a history of neglect, betrayal and vulnerability. It may create a return to default positions, bad physical care, the old addictions, and the embedded remembered anxiety and fear.

There is little to say that you have not heard before—about self-care, compassion and kindness now. It can be difficult to care for others by actually taking care of yourself. It might even become more, not less, challenging as this pandemic drags on. Texts, calls, zooms can be exhausting. Sometimes the constant stream of information and social media can make one feel even more isolated. So while you are still in the bunker of COVID, you may not need so many words to be connected with those you trust and cherish. Share a joke or music, share your grief, share your love. It is what community means in a time like this. Be fierce about your kindness. It has what kept your soul in tact.

Rage & Tenderness

from whenonearth.net

Out
Of a great need
We are all holding hands
And climbing.
Not loving is a letting go.
Listen
The terrain around here
is
far too
dangerous
for
that.

 -Hafiz

Rage and Tenderness

This world can stupefy us with its cruelty... Our response to such suffering is often a helpless rage. Rage can be cathartic in the short term, that blast of power, noise or energy that can blow things apart or shut things down. And, often it goes inside, which sucks up the lifeforce. That is called depression.

Anger does carry power. It is loaded with energy and can provide a sense of worth. But, this kind of self-protection is not necessarily self-care. Whether angry or raging, the response of tension we experience from this comes from emotional hurt. It is a strategy of self-protection to tend to the hurt. Anger creates tension, rigidity and sometimes aggression, either within or without.

For a survivor, history and programming - and creating some semblance of safety- have been what one had to survive the assaults and the abuses. One might have used (or continue to use) fear, passive aggression, or manipulation as strategies instead of outright aggression. But this takes a toll on our bodies certainly-- and our spirit.

Is it possible to use anger and the energy it creates as a source of both compassion and power? Is it possible to see the point of view of the person on the opposite side of the political, gender, racial justice spectrum without diminishing our own truth or safety? Can we neither give our power away, or on the other hand, bully our way to what we think we want? If we have been the aggressor, or the one with the power to harm, can we find the ways or words to apologize without our own diminishment?

It has been an inspiration to observe that recovery itself is a form of activism.
We learn the ways to be mindful, to respond instead of just reacting. We track the ways that our abuses have conditioned us and break those patterns by mending our own minds. We perform inner brain surgery on our programming We also bear witness with fierce compassion to the suffering of others and of ourselves—as a response to the racism, illness, loss of life and work, and the struggle for justice.

Anger can work as a creative force, not a destructive relationship with others or within ourselves. But dealing with the inequities, the injustice and the abuses of this world calls for creating space between the stimulus and the response. Can we find that one heartbeat between so we can redirect and meet the situation instead of using our old habits and addictions. Can we re-member ourselves instead of resorting to the old patterns that no longer work and perhaps never did. It is why we need community, not just our own individual resources.

Then we can act, respond, serve, choose to engage or disengage—love.

Breathe

Air

Breath: it should be a given:
For many right now, it feels on many levels, that there is so little air.

Any asthmatic will tell you how impossible it is to get a gasp of air during an asthma attack. 
And when some well meaning person says: Just relax and breathe…Take a deep breath… 

 Are you kidding? 

People respond differently when they cannot breathe.  Some pretend that there is all the air they need, even when they are suffocating.  Some want all the air for themselves at the expense of anybody else. 

Any survivor will tell you how impossible it was to breathe when they were not safe, and how difficult it still may be to breathe under stress.

Then –the gasp for survival that is the constant in black, brown, indigenous, and immigrant lives.

Air.

 And the earth:  as the lungs of the world are being burned.
as the planet heats up and forces us to gasp.
as the entire population of humanity struggles through this pandemic, for air, for life.

 Some grasp as they gasp.

 Air.

When a woman is giving birth, there is a moment or an hour when her breath is short.  All she can do is blow and push --but then again, maybe she needs to wait to push even if her body is screaming to let go… 

Even if it seems like there is no deep pocket of air, the world itself is in such a giant transition—one great act of giving birth.  It is bloody and messy –but it will happen nevertheless.…whether we like it or not , with or without enough air.

We are in this great reckoning together, no matter where we sit, no matter who we are.

We breathe—deep or shallow.   
We will also grow, deep or shallow…giving birth, no matter how long it takes.

So breathe the air as best you can.
And when the time is right, push.

This is and isn’t the beginning.

Advice for the newly hatched.

Later, you will admire the tree you came from – its artistic notches, the flourish of branch and bark, the sweet density of leaf and blanket of shade, how the view often tilted in your favor – skyward – where clouds drifted into whatever shapes you wanted them to be. You will tell stories of your past in the way of myth, each vignette pearlescent as dew. You will pluck good fruit from the old stems, and the skin will still be soft and yielding. For now, though, offer your betrothal to this strange, quaking new body. Admire the heated voltage of your fear, your blood circling the drain. Remember you are merely at the outskirts of your own ballast, that the swaying will go on for awhile, and then it won’t, and then it will again.
This is and isn’t the beginning. This is and isn’t the end.

-MAYA STEIN
 for C.

Image complements of www.pixabay.com

This is and isn’t the beginning. This is and isn’t the end…

If you are on the front lines, the situation feels endless, and utterly overwhelming.

You don’t have time, you can’t exercise, you are witnessing unimaginable suffering…
If you are in quarantine, the situation feels endless—you are hamstrung.
Your kids may be struggling. You may be bored or lonely, or have found some new ways to have peace or perspective, to be grateful, to be hopeful. As you are in the struggle on race and racial justice, it is exhausting and endless. Yes it is, and we go on because this matters.

Stay awake. Stay tuned in, as best you can. Don’t beat yourself up when you can do neither.
This is and is not the beginning. This is and is not the end.

and now this: