Smuggling Grace

One of my best mentors wrote a song that has this line:

“… give your living to life.”

I don’t yet know how that will unfold, but I’m going to choose that as a theme to reflect upon this month.

–Renee Roederer

One unfortunate thing about the human brain is that it is easier for it to get stuck in negative thought patterns rather than positive ones. This isn’t only anecdotal, by the way; lots of research exists around this. We can hack the brain’s plasticity to think more positively, but when our thoughts are looping toward anxiety or sadness, this takes work. (I also want to say that anxiety and sadness are valid feelings, and we don’t need a toxic positivity that tries to suppress them.)

But sometimes, we’re looping. And sometimes, we’re projecting fear into all kinds of future storylines. It would be wild to be able to know how much time we’ve spent over the course of our lives imagining fearful, future outcomes that never materialize. And what percentage of our time are we living in this state?

It’s natural, and it’s human.

The good news is that we can impact it, and steer it in helpful, calming, meaningful directions.

Here’s a question for all of us today: What story do you know in your own lives of everything working out? Perhaps even unexpectedly?

Maybe we could bring that not only to our minds, but to our bodies. If we ponder it long enough, it can change the hormones that are running through our bodies. What would it be like to move through this situation or that situation, and it works out? Or at the very least, what if it’s not filled with all the worse case scenarios? It’s not going to be all of them.

My big disclaimer in all of this, of course, is that painful feelings need to be felt too — especially in grief or trauma. Existential fears are valid also.

But even with them, maybe we can live more in the present moment, accompanying them with care, rather than letting our minds perpetually wander into an everything-goes-wrong future.

What storyline do you need to bring to mind and body?

–Renee Roederer

“Remember when we could barely see anyone?”

That’s what I said while I had dinner with loved ones last night. We are still in a time of taking some precautions when it comes to Covid — and we should — but much more is possible.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it’s like to have a home away from home. And when we think about it, we probably have some homes away from home — places where we feel at ease, familiar, at rest, and cared for in other people’s houses. This week, I’m in one of those places, and it feels great to be here.

I also want my house to provide this kind of experience for others. I want my place to be a home away from home, where people feel at ease, familiar, at rest, and cared for.

Last week, after more than a month of work, contractors finished a renovation to part of my house. I’m so eager to use that space, and I hope that people feel the way I did it that dinner. ❤️

I share this Instagram post from @drdevonprice this morning because I think it may be helpful to remember this. It reads,

You are not obligated to issue grand proclamations about incredibly complex issues you know relatively little about. You are also not obligated to flood your nervous system with upsetting imagery and information for hours — that is not the same thing as informing yourself.

With love and fierce advocacy, let’s honor and uphold trans kids. And their affirming parents.

-Renee Roederer

At the end of 2021, one of the support groups at the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan shared a lovely moment together. One of the group members chose a song for each person, sharing one by one that this song encapsulates a wonderful part of who they are uniquely.

Yesterday, when we introduced our new staff member to this group, they shared about their lives and one by one, they said, “This is my song,” — each naming the song chosen for them.

We internalize the best things people share about us. (So we should share them).

–Renee Roederer

The image above is a tweet from @AlexBanayan, and I really love it. It reads,

“When I interviewed Maya Angelou, she told me to write this sentence on my notepad and to never forget it.
‘Every storm runs out of rain.’
i still think of that line to this day.”

As I reflect on this, I think it can mean a number of things:

— Some storms aren’t worth our energy.
— Sometimes, we’ve fought too long in a direction that’s not worth it. Just walk away.

But I think my favorite is this:

— Sometimes, with time, the clouds clear. The pain is clearer too, or healed or healing. And love, or possibility, or expansiveness, or growth is what remains.

What does it mean to you?

–Renee Roederer

I hope that you’ll set an alarm today for 2:22pm.

Because it will be 2/22/22 at 2:22pm. AND the day of the week is Twosday.

–Renee Roederer

Whether you have trauma in your childhood or have pains and griefs in adulthood, I think this video from Anna Runkle gives good advice, so I’d love to share it today. When you feel stuck emotionally or situationally, how do you move through it?

She shares that we need to imagine a better future and begin telling ourselves a more life-giving story.

I hope this helps.

–Renee Roederer

I woke up happy, hopeful, and uplifted, and I was grateful. On Saturday, I shared here about my sudden, unexpected back pain. But already by Sunday, it was gone, and I was feeling both lighter and delighted.

This caused me to reflect: Sometimes, we need to make space for our pain and feel our way through it, whether it is physical, emotional, or both. Though that is challenging, it may need our attention and our intention to tend to it. It many cases, it won’t persist in the same way forever. It may also clear us out for something different. I think about one of my favorite poems,

The Guesthouse

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

— Jellaludin Rumi,
translation by Coleman Barks

Whatever you’re feeling, may you be cleared out for some new delight.

–Renee Roederer