Back to Basics

I bet if I looked, I'd find I've used this title before.

Mostly because I've freaked the fuck out before. And then had to recover. Or at least keep feeding my family. Neither lets me linger in the dark for too long.

And so, today was possible. I only cried one time, and that was gratitude crying which is much nicer than despair crying. I was grateful for Alix, who is leading Girls with Grit for sweet peas like my sweet T. It's possible I bullied her into it, but no matter how it happened, this beautiful soul has decided to gather girls together and teach them how to move their bodies to let shit go, and then let them write and create and build and dream so that their souls have a bit more bounce to them to get them through this world.

Surely this world needs more women with souls that bounce and bodies that flow.

I also walked in a forest. I tried to be really deep and thoughtful, and notice how healing nature is. Maybe I didn't give it enough time. But for 30 minutes I didn't read any articles that made me nauseous, or hear another news item that made me want to drive into the sea.

But mostly, I did the one thing that always heals. I shared communion with my neighbours. It's my favourite kind of communion, apple ginger cider and vegan chocolate mint cookies around the kitchen with the atheists I love best. They did more for my soul in 75 minutes than anything else has done in the last 5 days. We raged and wondered and gasped and laughed. We compared our various reasons for despair and delighted in how many there were.

But mostly, we were together and we were safe and we were agreed that justice is our responsibility. And that sometimes kids just need to play outside.

I have walked through several different phases of post-election trauma. Denial, grief, rage, acceptance and then back again. I have read 17 different ways to respond and read 17 different reasons why each of those ways are dumb. March! Don't march! Safety pins mean safety! Safety pins mean white privilege! Give money! Don't fund the war! There is no right answer here friends.

And when there is no right answer, that's when we go back to basics.

Love God.

Love your neighbour.

Who's your neighbour?

The person you come across who needs what you have to give.  Or maybe it's the person who has to give the very thing you need.

Either way, when the gift is given and the gift received, the Kingdom is on earth as it is in Heaven.

I don't have to fix western civilization. I just have to be willing to give away what it is I have to give and receive what it is I need from the people who I come across.  Tonight it was cider and cookies. Tomorrow it may be shelter and food. I'll just keep my eyes open as I walk for those journeying the other way.

What Hope Looks Like in the Dark

I am so afraid.

I have made myself walk through the last three days since the American election, but my heart is still curled up in my bed weeping like a fourth grader. Like the fourth grader I was, who wept through the night believing we were minutes away from nuclear war. That fear feels the same 35 years later. The tears burn the same way 35 years later. The hopeless "I don't know what to do" sinks me the same way 35 years later.

What's different is that I have children I'm sending into this dark future we face. I'm not just afraid of my own small legs not being able to carry me away from danger. I'm afraid of watching helplessly as my children... I can't. I can't even type it. Oh shit. I'm just so scared.

Another thing's that different is that I know fear does not serve me. No bad thing is deterred because someone thought to be afraid of it before it happened. No good idea is borne of terror. Despair has yet to inspire the next right thing.

So I'm working hard. Scott just got irked that I can't turn off my angst to listen to him talk for two minutes. But he doesn't know how much effort it takes to turn down the volume on the voice in my head saying "you're about to watch the end of the world". He doesn't know how hard it is to stop planning how much food we can pack into the boat, because that's the only thing I can think about that's remotely constructive. How nutritious are fiddleheads anyway?

But every day, I'm going to work a little harder at it. Because hope is our only hope this week. I will hope that I can look up often enough to catch people in the middle of goodness. I will hope that the God I love will grow love in me for the people who were so angry, so disenfranchised, so scared themselves, that they chose this man for their next leader. I will hope that something happens that boosts peace and cooperation back up to the top of the global agenda.

This isn't a pretty piece. Not so eloquent or helpful. Hope in the dark can be ugly like that. But I'm going to keep at it. I'm going to write it down - maybe the rhythm of typing will soothe me.

I'll let you know how it goes.