Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
-Jalal al-Din Rumi
This morning I overheard a woman on a treadmill talking with a coach. While they spoke, he was increasing the pace on the machine until she was running at a slow jog. He kept increasing the speed, and I heard him say “Now imagine that there is a grinder behind you and if you slow down it will catch you and grind you up. You have to keep running to escape.” Immediately, the woman froze and was thrown from the machine.
Yup.
When I picture having to run forever at my top setting just to escape being ground to bits, I want to stop running too. However heroic my efforts, I will become exhausted eventually, and the grinder will get me. So why even try?
The woman seemed to be okay; she had picked herself up and was laughing. On the wall behind her I saw a motivational slogan: Train Harder Today Than You Did Yesterday.
Wait a minute, I thought. If I train harder today than I did yesterday—and then the same tomorrow, and the day after that, I will hit a wall. I will hit a wall of natural limit. And then what? I’m getting older; the day will come when no matter what I do, I will be unable to match—let alone top—my personal best. Should I just stop training then?
Whatever terrible thing just happened to you: We are not machines. We have natural limits. We cannot be resilient and strong and even-keeled all the time. Sometimes we have to stop, take a breath, and look behind us to remind ourselves how far we have come instead of pushing relentlessly forward. Yes, even when there is a lot of ground still to cover. Especially then.
As I’ve considered this today, I’ve thought about it as the first error. The first error would be to expect yourself to keep producing, to be a machine, to power through, no matter how bad the news or deep the grief.
The second error would be to stay down.
You deserve to go where you are going. You got on that treadmill for a reason. Maybe you want to live long enough to hold your great-grandchildren, maybe you want to feel more alive in your skin. Maybe you want to be able to push through to the rescue when it counts. You deserve to continue building the world you want to live in.
I’ve been reading a lot of old stories about floods since the hurricane. Most cultures have one. And all of them seem to say: we need one of every kind of thing to survive a flood. We need one of every kind of thing to recreate the world after a disaster.
Whatever tragedy has befallen you, this is old, old wisdom from the generations that have experienced it before: don’t flatten your response. Don’t get small and narrow. Amplify, widen, find support in other human beings and other non-human beings (animals, trees, the sky) and in prayer, song, meditation. You are not alone. Monoculture is weak and vulnerable; one disease or predator can wipe it out. Natural systems are most resilient when they are diverse. We are all in this together, and it is still happening. We can’t afford to keep running forever, and we can’t afford to stay down. We need diversity in our conversation, and we need diversity in our repertoires of action.
So: don’t force yourself to keep running. Pause, breathe, feel. You might think that if you really pay attention to how you are feeling, you will MOST DEFINITELY spin out. I promise you, counterintuitive as it sounds, that it isn’t true. If you take the time to truly listen to your feelings and thoughts, they are less likely to come out sideways. Our feelings and thoughts tell us what matters to us. Listen. Let your feelings and thoughts inform you of what matters to you.
And then: find something that matters to you and do it. Action binds despair, and despair is very, very, bad for you.
Carl Jung wrote: We become enlightened not by imagining figures of light but by making the darkness conscious.
What I take from this is: I can’t afford to turn away. I must look, clearly and carefully, at whatever the catastrophe is. This is how bad it can get. All true and good actions begin by accurately tracking and accepting the reality we are facing.
When I make the darkness conscious, I allow myself to truly feel how cruel, divisive, unfeeling, and uncaring we humans can be. I allow myself to take in what my own laziness or despair or lack of accountability can lead to out in the world.
And now that it is conscious, I get to choose what I will do. How shall I build the world I wish to live in? How shall I work within myself to combat the tendencies that I see doing such harm out in the world?
Where do I still shelter, in myself, those tendencies that I see playing across the world stage? How can I transform them? Where do I see those tendencies hurting people and places that I care about? How can I transform that?
When we lean into the third thing—not relief that all is well, not despair that all is lost, but that more nuanced and grounded place where we have agency—we regain our power.
The key principles of psychological first aid are:
SAFETY. If the treadmill is too fast, get off the treadmill. Who or what is safe? Lean into that.
COMFORT: Drink some water. Eat some food. Find someone you love to hug.
EFFICACY: Find something to do that reminds you of your own power and ability. Write a letter to a friend or a newspaper. Mulch the garden. Bake something delicious.
CONNECTION: You’re not alone. Is there a friend, an ancestor, a place you can connect with? A story or poem you can find describing another person going through this very thing you are now experiencing?
HOPE: Can you find evidence of other times something terrible has happened and life persevered? Is there a song or a poem or a story that allows you to imagine that this too shall pass, that something good may happen at some point in your future? If someone you love is feeling hopeless, can you be a listening ear for them?
So how do you keep from spinning out when the news is very bad?
If you have the bandwidth: Don’t look away. Remember that all helpful actions are based on accepting reality. Provide safety, comfort, efficacy, connection, and hope for those around you. Listen to your feelings and thoughts to discover what matters to you, and find the small actions you can take that prevent despair.
If you don’t have the bandwidth: Get off the treadmill. Accept safety, comfort, connection, and hope wherever you can find it. Do small things that remind you of your power.
Then, when you need to, switch. Remember that diversity of action, diversity of repertoire, diversity of conversation, is how we evolve. Let yourself pivot and change.
Reach out if you need me. I am wishing you well.
