Have you all ever heard of Quantum Entanglement? It’s one of the weirdest discoveries of science — namely, that two particles can become inexplicably connected, to the point that even across great distances, what happens with one always impacts the other.
So why wouldn’t it also be true that we human beings are more connected than we assume?
Years ago, I took a viewing plunge that would last nearly a year. I added the first disc of Seinfeld season 1 to the Netflix queue, and then, I began to re-watch the entire series. I enjoyed revisiting the hilarious scenarios that made Seinfeld one of the most unique and popular sitcoms to date.
As I watched, I realized that a number of common phrases were launched on this “show about nothing.” Terms like double dipping, close talking, and re-gifting all had their fifteen minutes of fame on the show, and they stuck with us because they named social quirks that had not yet been so wonderfully defined.
And I marveled at the burst of technological changes that have emerged in the span of one generation. This is because so many of those changes are simply not in the show. . . The fact that Seinfeld could craft entire episodes around the use of answering machines and pay phones — and for that matter, feature the frequent use of Jerry’s enormous, cordless landline phone — spoke to how different life was a few decades ago.
Every bit of this was enjoyable, but most of all, I found myself reflecting upon the moments behind the scenes, particularly upon the creation of the sitcom itself and the relationships that made it possible. The Netflix discs all have interviews with the cast, directors, and writers throughout the series. As I watched these episodes, I also watched the creators find their stride in defining the identity and tone of the show, and I watched the friendships grow deeper.
At the beginning, it was intriguing to watch Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David practically fall into this opportunity, not knowing where it would take them. In a humorous way during one of the first interviews, Larry David talks about the very non-humorous emotional meltdown he had when he realized that the show they pitched would actually be aired. He would actually have to write thirteen episodes for the first season. He didn’t think he could do it. Little did he know that he was sitting on a creative project which would become much larger than himself. Within that larger framework, he would find his own writing voice.
As I watched these early interviews, I pondered how we human beings frequently desire to be a part of creating something larger. I could feel that pull upon myself too. We all want to belong to something bigger than anything we can create alone.
I especially enjoyed watching the finale of the series. I had not seen that final episode since the evening it actually aired, and it was was wonderful to revisit it. Along with the last episodes themselves, the final interviews were just as intriguing and meaningful as the ones at the beginning. One story in particular will stick with me for a long time.
The four primary cast members all had a ritual of gathering together backstage before the taping every episode. When they gathered together for that moment on the date of the last live taping, Jerry Seinfeld said something quite lovely. Jason Alexander said that Jerry was rarely sentimental, but on that date, with tears in his eyes, he created a wonderful moment as they stood backstage and held hands. Jerry said,
“I want to say something. For the rest of our lives, when anyone thinks of one of us, they will think of all four of us.”
I love those words. He added, “And I can’t think of three people I’d rather have that be true of.” He was right. When we think of any of them, we do think of all of them.
This ending brought me back to my initial reflections at the beginning of the series. We all want to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. Sometimes we stumble upon such an opportunity, only to add ourselves with our identities, dreams, and voices. Other times, we create such opportunities intentionally through the friendships that surround us.
Seinfeld certainly made cultural changes to our world. If we follow the example of its makers and allow ourselves to create alongside others, our personal worlds just might get bigger, too.
Jesus said,
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?”
and
“Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?”
and
“So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”
All of these statements come from the same passage in the Sermon on the Mount — Matthew 6:25-34.
Jesus talks about placing trust in the the spiritual value that there is ultimately enough, naming that we are seen, cared for, and loved.
Of course, we know that sometimes, people genuinely do not have what they need, and there are times when anxiety emerges from inside the body in ways that can be debilitating. These deserve our attention, compassion, and gentleness, alongside commitments to address the situations that cause them.
Yet also, in the midst of that, and in the midst of many tendencies to ruminate over that which we fear, whether large or small, I think this is genuinely the most practical of advice.
I don’t mean to say that it’s always easy to simply turn worry off, and there are crises that make that remarkably challenging. Maybe even impossible. But in some situations, it is genuinely so very practical to say, “I’m only going to focus on this day.” At least emotionally.
Looking at the larger picture, pondering the bigger pieces, and moving in the longer direction… yes.
But emotionally, focusing on the one day in front of us. Just this one.
“One day at a time,” folks wisely say.
This can be especially practical when large things feel as though they are looming —
deadlines,
medical care,
grief,
crisis,
conflict,
addiction,
moving, or
navigating new contexts.
This is a spiritual practice and orientation, definitely. But it’s also so darn practical.
Just today.
Just today.
Here’s the paradoxical thing about shame —
As a feeling, it is real.
As a reality, it is untrue.
There has never been a life chapter, a day, or even a moment when we were not worth love and belonging.
Depression and anxiety are variable, meaning that symptoms may grow and lessen on given days, and in the case of anxiety, symptoms may fluctuate between nervous excitability and detached numbness.
I really appreciate these slides below because I think they name these realities well. These slides come from The Depression Project at @RealDepressionProject.
Today, I’d like to share this video from Dr. Nicole LePera, who goes by The Holistic Psychologist on social media.
She asks, “Do you have trauma brain?” Here are some signs she mentions:
1) Obsessive desire to be chosen by others without any awareness about how you and your body feel about the connection
2) Chronic social anxiety
3) Need for consistent distraction
4) Ego states of self-judgment and comparison
5) Lack of trust that leads to procrastination, self-sabotage, and shame cycles
If you notice any connections or resonance with these, be kind to yourself, know you’re not alone, and know that you can find help for these.
Captions are available when viewing from YouTube.
Any Place
and
Any Moment
can be
the Space
and
the Time
of
Revelation
and
Awareness.
Any single place and any single moment can open us to understanding and connection.
I’ve been learning a bit from Thomas Merton lately. Merton (1915-1968) was a Monastic Christian who lived in Kentucky. I love a particular both/and in his personal faith: He was a mystic, yet not at all removed from the world. He delved into some of the largest challenges and traumas that humanity has faced. He was a practical theologian and a humanitarian, grounded deeply in a sense of mystical communion with God and other people.
These two aspects of Merton’s faith really came together when he was simply standing at an intersection. He was standing on the corner of 4th and Walnut (now Muhammad Ali Blvd.) in Louisville, Kentucky. As he watched people walk by, he was suddenly overcome with a deep sense of connection. He said he was, “suddenly overcome with the realization that I loved all these people. . .” as they “walked around shining like the sun.”
It changed his whole life.
He probably wasn’t expecting that when he was out running some errands. But any place and any moment can introduce us to a revelation of understanding and connection. Any place and any moment.
When in Louisville a few years ago, I went to this corner. It’s really fitting because there’s still a great deal of foot traffic. There is a placard that commemorates this place and moment, and right behind it, is 4th Street Live — two city blocks typically blocked off for foot traffic with restaurants, and often, live music.
I snapped a photo of this place. I also stood there and remembered people I know as well. It was a meaningful experience.
And it was a good reminder.
Any Place
and
Any Moment
can open us for
Understanding
and
Connection.
Any single one at all.
We can choose peace over productivity.
In fact, there may be a number of situations and contexts where we need to hear such freedom.
We really can choose peace over productivity.
We have constructed our culture in such a way to value productivity above much else — including our own wellbeing and the wellbeing of our neighbors.
When we are hurting, or when something in the news cycle hits close to home, how often do internalized messages bubble up to the surface, conveying. . . ?
“Come on. Get on with it.”
“This isn’t as bad as what ________ experienced. Why can’t I get anything done?”
“I don’t have time to think about this. I have so much to do.”
“Look competent.”
“Get it together.”
These are self-critical messages in contexts where our productivity and our constructed image are viewed more highly than our true selves and our need for wholeness.
Well, guess what matters more?
You — the real you — and your wholeness.
We can choose peace over productivity.
So what space do you need today?
Trauma is a physical injury.
Alongside 8 high school students named in the news reports, many more were injured at Oxford. Thinking of everyone — first and foremost Oxford students, teachers, administrators, and parents — but also everyone, everywhere, grappling with this pain.
–Renee Roederer
I drove to my friend’s place. On the way there, I found myself looking forward to seeing her.
And…
I took a moment to recognize how sad and heavy I felt… just about the general state of things in our nation and in our world. I was really feeling it for the few hours that preceded that drive to her apartment.
When I arrived, I was glad to see her. She also cares deeply about the larger questions swirling about us these days. During our time together, I watched and listened as she delighted in the enjoyment of simple things: the coffee shop she drank today, the dress I was wearing a few days ago, her cat, and more.
Another person stopped by to drop off a treat. “I brought lemon cake!” she said as she came through the door.
“Oh my gawd!!!”
My friend exclaimed with such genuine delight. It filled me in a way I needed.
It makes complete sense to grieve and feel heavy about collective pain, confusion, and hardship. We’ll keep feeling these, at times, in waves. Some people are in very close proximity to these, and I know that feelings don’t always just switch on and off.
And in the midst of this, challenging as it is, right alongside it, I like to uplift the gift of simple joys too. There are so many tiny, wonderful experiences of daily living. My friend brought that home to me today.
So after saying goodbye to her and walking out her door, I packed up my car with chairs and immediately went to get my own coffee.
And every part of this shifted my day.
Smuggling Grace 