Author: gracesmuggler

Connections build empathy and solidarity, and these commitments create supportive and protective communities. Everyone needs this, especially when we face difficult challenges.

Hugh Hollowell, founder and director of Love Wins Ministries in North Carolina, says that the opposite is homelessness isn’t just being housed. The real opposite of homelessness is community. When we extend our community relationships to include others, it is less likely that someone will experience homelessness. People often lose access to shelter because they’ve lost relationships.

We all need community support and care –

when we’ve lost a job,

when we’ve lost a loved one,

when we’ve begun a transition,

when we’ve left a religious community,

when we have mental health needs,

when we have financial needs,

when we have a deportation order,

when we’ve received a diagnosis,

when we don’t know where our next meal is coming from.

Does someone come to mind when you read this list? Can you reach out to them so that their access to community ties are strong?

Do you find yourself on that list? Do you know that you’re worth support and belonging? You are. Reach out to someone and let them know how you’re really doing.

Community is an intrinsic good, and we all need it.

– Renee Roederer

Our DNA carries stories.

Of course, our DNA articulates the building blocks of how our bodies grow — a type of narrative, so to speak — but beyond that, our DNA carries stories of our ancestors too. Researchers have discovered that our DNA carries imprints of our grandparents’ life experiences, and perhaps, further back as well.

Sadly, this was initially discovered by looking at the impacts of trauma. When ancestors have endured trying experiences, descendants carry some imprints of those experiences. See this:

Grandma’s Experiences Leave a Mark on Your Genes

But we are not stuck in these stories. The same discovery tells us that we are writing our DNA even as our DNA writes some aspects of our lives.

So. . .

All the work we do
to heal,
to grow,
to connect,
to create space,
to write new stories
in our lives, and
in the lives of our communities,
shapes the physical building blocks
of ourselves and generations that follow us.

That’s a powerful thing.

–Renee Roederer

I really appreciate the book, Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds by adrienne maree brown. I find it to be a remarkably refreshing, empowering paradigm shift in how we understand our relationships, our connection to the earth, our activism, our organizing, and our processes for affecting change.

There is so much I could share, as this has opened up reflections for me in many directions. But today, I want to share a piece of the book that has been sitting personally for a long time.

adrienne marie brown says,

“We need each other. I love the idea of shifting from ‘mile wide inch deep’ movements to ‘inch wide mile deep’ movements that schism the existing paradigm.” (page 20)

Inch wide, mile deep… I absolutely love that.

She is encouraging us to move away from a paradigm we might recognize very well (do you?) — that is, plunging into task-oriented work in a huge array of areas based on the urgency of the many needs around us. Those needs are very real, and when we experience burnout, we might find ourselves driven more by ‘shoulds’ than feelings of relational care. In the midst of this, she encourages to move toward a paradigm that is based on relationships — going deep with them, going deep with the care of them — because that is how transformation really happens.

It’s also much more sustainable. Whether it’s in our employment, our vocation, our neighborhood vision, or in larger scale movement work, mile wide, inch deep rhythms often lead to high burnout and low impact.

But inch wide, mile deep… That’s refreshing, transformative work.

And lately, I’ve found myself desiring this. To plant myself/ourselves particularly — not widely, but deeply — to be all-in on a few things, very specific inches,

trusting that those roots go deep,
trusting that those roots find nourishing soil,
trusting that those roots intertwine with other roots,

finding connection to the people planted in other inches.
(and intersecting)
(and providing collective nourishment).

—Renee Roederer

There are times when we have to say no to what is being asked of us, even if it’s good and important, in order to say yes to the most central value we have.

We have to protect it, not only because it’s important to us, but because it might be the most important role we play in community.

We can’t say yes to everything. We are limited people.

Sometimes, we have to say no so we can keep saying yes.

–Renee Roederer

Okay, that’s a dramatic title.

But doesn’t that seem true? Doesn’t that feel true?

Perhaps like me, you’re witnessing a lot of stress rising to the surface. We may feel this inside ourselves or see it in those around us. We need empathy to care for the stress inside ourselves and those we love. This is important. At the very same time, there are many occasions for burnout or frustration.

Some people are carrying particularly painful experiences at the moment — difficult emotions of grief, financial downfall, illness, challenges in making decisions about schooling and public events, and much more.

And at the very same time…

Collective, near-universal stress seems to be rising too.

This is what I suspect is happening: We all got a bit more normality in our lives, and that made us feel safer and more supported to feel our fuller range of emotions from 2020.

“It’s a COVID hangover,” someone said to me yesterday.

Exactly. That’s it, exactly.

–Renee Roederer

And it lived in the house. Like, with the family.

And that is quite literally all I know about it. I simultaneously wish I knew more and am glad that I do not.

But I can’t resist that as a title. It’s just too good.

Over The Weekend, I Learned My Great-Grandmother Had a Pet Squirrel Named Corky.

It will remain a weird mystery.

1. What is your most central, deeply held value?

or

2. What do you want it to be?

This little fish, y’all.

This tiny, seemingly insignificant pufferfish astounded me the other day. I have never heard of such a little artist until I watched a BBC Earth video a few days ago.

Check out this video, and see what he does to impress a mate.

This little fish creates an artistic structure in the sand – one that’s complex in its detail and mathematical precision. It’s astonishing. We’re left curious, how does this little being have such an ability?

And we feel a sense of wonder.

I think we need a sense of wonder, particularly in times of great stress. We need to be reminded that there is a world worth feeling awe about – a world worth living in, a world worth protecting.

Perhaps there are times when we struggle to access a feeling of wonder. And if so, that’s completely understandable and okay. But thankfully, curiosity and wonder are things we can practice. They aren’t goals or benchmarks. They’re play. We can always engage them. 

So what initiates your sense of wonder these days?

– Renee Roederer

Do you know what’s great? Handwritten letters.

I didn’t really know I was missing this. In fact, I viewed letter writing purely as a genre from the past. But during this pandemic, I’ve received a number of them, and they give me joy. One of my very best friends sends many people handwritten cards, and they are such a gift. She’s made this a personal practice. I love it.

This has helped me think about something within the letters too. It has me thinking about the beauty of slow connections. We need these.

When I say slow connections, I’m talking about more than the amount of time between sending and receiving mail, though that’s certainly a slow connection. (And getting slower all the time? Eeek?) I’m also talking about the types of life snapshots we might capture in handwritten letters – how letter writing depicts them in a slow and unique way, then uplifts their value as we share them with others.

As I mentioned, this person is one of my very closest friends. We talk over the phone about significant things that are happening in our lives. I send her photos and videos over texts. We connect about large things and immediate things. But when she writes me a handwritten card, I have the opportunity to learn what’s going on that particular day and that particular moment through written words.

For instance, the cats just jumped across the room in a funny way, though they were cuddly a few minutes before. The tea is really good this morning. Her husband just said a funny one-liner.

Slowness takes time to capture these, prioritizing the small things as meaningful. Slowness takes time to share these with a friend.

To enjoy them. To choose them. To write them down. To put them in the mail in the anticipation of a friend seeing them too.

We need slow connections.

– Renee Roederer