Author: gracesmuggler

Every day at the close of his television show, Fred Rogers would often say,

“I love you just the way you are.”

One day, while filming, Francois Clemmons made a connection and felt like those words were being directed at him. Afterward he asked, “Were you talking to me?”

And Fred Rogers said, “Yes, I’ve been talking to you for two years, and you finally heard me today.”

May our ears perk up. May we hear those kinds of messages. May we know they are true — perhaps newly heard, yet shared with longevity.

I was cycling down the road in the bike lane, and I was moving pretty fast. I didn’t realize I was about to be a disturbance. But as I neared a fir tree on the side of the road, a flock of little sparrows suddenly retreated into the tree. It’s almost as if they were about to take off collectively, then at my presence, they swarmed right back into their safe hiding space in one, big, collective pivot.

“Sorry!” I said aloud, as I zoomed on by, smiling. I also thought it was pretty cute.

They moved in concert with one another completely, and they knew exactly where to go. It made me wonder, do we know the people and places with whom we can retreat and rest?

—Renee Roederer

After a caterpillar spins itself inside a silky chrysalis, it turns into goo. It liquifies inside the cocoon. Between its intricate life as a caterpillar and its intricate life as a butterfly, it is truly a gooey mess. It’s hard to believe that something so beautiful emerges, but this is indeed the messy, mystical process.

So if any part of us feels like goo right now, we might be transforming.

–Renee Roederer

P.S. A study has revealed that butterflies remember their lives as caterpillars. Given the goo process, and the fact that butterflies move, eat, and sense differently than caterpillars, that’s pretty incredible.

— Photos by Renee Roederer

By Emily McDowell (@EmilyOnLife)

Hi, it’s me. While bike riding, I have nodded to and/or waved at an embarrassing number of decorative scarecrows during this season.

Ope.

A friend and colleague posted this tweet yesterday. I agree with the importance of what he shares here:

Public health folks: I know that we are not all experts on Israel & Palestine. But we ARE experts on what happens when water & electricity are shut off, when borders are closed, when food & medicine are unattainable. Speak on these things. This is why we study what we studied.

I know people whose family and friends are living in this region, and they are deeply afraid.

I try to imagine what the fear, trauma, and powerlessness must feel like on the ground. On Monday, I posted an article on social media about hospitalized people in Gaza who were unable to be evacuated with the 24-hour notice. Medical personnel were unable to move them safely. On Tuesday, 500 people were killed in a strike that landed on a hospital.

What is the psychological terror like of being hospitalized, waiting with knowledge that a building could collapse upon you at any moment? That feels nearly unfathomable, but that is real for people right now. And then…the building does. Who will tell the stories of those patients and those medical personnel?

What is the psychological terror like of being a hostage, unsure if you will be free again, or if you’ll see your families and friends again, yet fully aware that a full blown war is now underway and escalating while you’re still trapped in the same place? That feels nearly unfathomable, but that is real for people right now. Who will tell the stories of those hostages?

And, of course, many people watch with fear at a distance as well, also feeling powerless.

I am hoping, praying, and advocating for a cease fire. We can also call our elected officials to advocate for this. I want to encourage us to do that.

No one is free until we are all free.
No one lives in peace until all have peace.

And wherever you are today in thinking on these realities — whether close and connected, or much farther away — please take good care and know that you are valuable, as are all people in that region. We are often more connected than we realize.

—Renee Roederer

I looked out the window, and I saw a thick, cloudy sky of gray. In my backyard, I can see some color, but it’s not like the vibrant hues I can find on trees in other areas of my town. I see plants and wildflowers beginning to wilt and yield themselves toward this season.

“I miss summer already,” I thought. Then I thought about how this, too, will return later. It’s time to be present with this season now.

Then I pondered, “What if we didn’t know summer would reemerge? What if we had no idea that spring would bring blossoms and new growth? What if we had no cyclical knowledge?”

In that case, this current change would be pretty scary. We would assume this is all it is, and that we’re moving toward a perpetual worse. But thank goodness, we are able to anticipate and basically, trust the process when nature shifts.

Can we trust the process when… we shift? Or when life shifts around us? Or for us? Or even to us?

Can we anticipate that goodness is possible too? That it can arise? That it can at very least accompany the pains? And often grow large enough to hold them? And in some cases, become expansive enough to transform them?

I’ve learned a great deal from a person who says this:
“As long as love remains, there is hope.”

If love remains — even in change, even in moments that feel like utter tumultuousness — there is hope. There is hope for vitality. There is hope for transformation. There is hope for renewal. There is hope for connection and re-connection. There is hope for growth.

If there is love, there is hope.
If there is hope, there are possibilities.
If there are possibilities, there is change.
If there is change, there is growth.
If there is growth, there is…

—Renee Roederer

Quite naturally, our bodies have a stress response. Stress causes adrenaline and cortisol, the tightening of muscles, and at times, the initiation of fight, flight, freeze, or fawn responses.

But we can also have a relaxation response. In the relaxation response, the activated sympathetic nervous system is calmed by the parasympathetic nervous system. What helps this? Intentional, deep breathing, stretching, meditation, mindfulness, touch, bilateral movement (walking, running, additional ways of moving), somatic processes like the body scan, cuddling, and generally slowing down — again — intentional, deep breathing (after all, this helps us slow down).

But here’s the thing:

The stress response is innate and automatic, and the relaxation response has to be learned. The body needs practice in order for this to happen naturally on its own.

All of these are worthy practice. Very worth our time.

–Renee Roederer