Image Description: A gray dumbo octopus.
I mean, look how cute they are. And most of them are so smalllll. And look at their little, silly ears.
Grace
It’s pretty rare for a Facebook post to have more shares than likes, but that’s what the stats currently tell me about a post I made. There were 63 likes, but there are 113 shares.
I follow the MisterRogersQuotes handle on Twitter, so my screens receive daily quotes from Fred Rogers. I’m glad for that. Occasionally, I’ll screenshot one on my phone and then share it to Facebook also. That’s what I did last week.
He says,
“Some days, doing ‘the best we can’ may still fall short of what we would like to be able to do, but life isn’t perfect — on any front — and doing what we can with what we have is the most we should expect of ourselves or anyone else.”
In an screenshotted image, this simple but very helpful quote spread fast on Facebook. And I realized, people are really longing for this kind of grace, hoping to stand in the presence of people who convey, “‘the best you can do’ is truly enough.” And, of course, we need to hear that we’re worth loving and are ourselves ‘enough’ even when ‘the best we can do’ falls short as well. This is true when circumstances inhibit us or when we fail. Our worth and acceptance need not be conditioned on ‘the best we can do.’ Worth and acceptance can be unconditional. This is grace.
It seems that a large and quick number of shares reveal that we need to hear this message again.
So I wonder, which ongoing stories in our lives need this posture from us?
Quarantine Learnings
Image Description: An open magazine, a laptop, and a smart phone on a wooden table.
I know there are deeper discoveries we might have have during this time. Eureka moments about life or epiphanies about our inner workings as people. But I’ll just say…
Even though I deeply miss human contact — I really do — I’ve learned that I really enjoy working from home.
I’m in an ideal work rhythm now, and I find myself getting into flow. This is good.
-I’m also fortunate to still be working.
-I’m also fortunate to work for organizations that are supportive of staying put and working remotely.
Not everyone has those options before them.
I don’t take it for granted.
I’m just learning that I like it very much.
Concern or Worry?
Image Description: A white question mark, written in chalk, on a blackboard.
These days, I find myself thinking about this often:
Concern and worry are not quite the same. They’re different experiences, I think.
When we’re concerned about something, we take it seriously. And this feels proactive: We think ahead. We consider consequences. We galvanize our strength, our inner resources, and our community resources.
But…
When we’re worried about something, we just spin around our own anxiety. It can feel like a whirlwind.
It’s not easy, and sometimes, not possible to just snap our fingers and exit worry. Anxiety is very physical, and when it takes hold, we’re really in it. This deserves compassion and never shame or criticism.
I wonder, if we can practice moving our worry energy into concern energy, might we inhabit a different stance? Then we can be in a different relationship with what we face or fear.
Mental Health Monday: Trauma-Healing
Image Description: A list from Souldipity Coaching. Gray background, black text. The text is written out below in the post.
I find myself saying this a lot, but it bears repeating: In the COVID-19 pandemic, we are living a time of collective trauma. In the midst of it, it may be helpful to hear this again and repeat it to ourselves; we need reminders to be gentle with ourselves and one another.
These things are true as well:
-It’s okay to be upset and in a place of need in our lives.
-It’s okay to feel confused and unsure of what to do about it.
-It’s okay (and good, even if it doesn’t feel easy) to seek help for trauma, pain, or difficulty.
For the sake of our own health, that of our family, and that of our community, I think this is a good time to learn more about trauma — not only because of this collective one we’re facing, but also, because some of us have been carrying and processing previous traumas for a good while now. Or we may feel stuck in physical trauma reactions without knowing that’s what’s happening inside our nervous systems. This is particularly true if we are cycling through these physical fight, flight, freeze, or fawn reactions, but are not quite aware of a single event or storyline to point to as their cause. (<— Helpful link there)
I really appreciated this image that I placed at the top of today’s post. It’s a list from Souldipity Coaching. I offer it as encouragement, particularly if we want to celebrate the ways we have already healed. It reads,
Signs you are healing from trauma
-You are aware of your triggers and patterns
-You are not as easily and intensely triggered
-Quicker return to your normal state after you’ve gone into fight/flight/freeze
-Your emotional intelligence has improved
-Feelings of powerlessness and helplessness change into confidence, worthiness and inner strength
-Selfsabotage, shame, and guilt are diminishing
-Feelings of being stuck turn into realisation that taking a step forward is possible
That’s encouraging, isn’t it? And if you read this and think, “I’m not there yet…” I still want to offer that encouragement. We’re always in process, and these things can become true for us:
–You can become aware of your triggers and patterns
–You can learn how to regulate your nervous system so it’s not so easily and intensely triggered
–You can have quicker return to your normal state after you’ve gone into fight/flight/freeze/fawn
–You can grow in your emotional intelligence
–You can change your powerlessness and helplessness into confidence, worthiness and inner strength
–You can diminish self sabotage, shame, and guilt
–You can shift your feelings of being stuck and realize that a step forward is possible
Therapy is crucial for healing trauma. If you can, please seek it out.
Community is crucial for healing trauma (it can’t stand in for a therapist, but it’s also just as important). If you can, please seek this out.
Our best inner resources are crucial for healing trauma, and we all have them. If you can, please activate them. And remember, you don’t have to do this all by yourself or by your own strength alone.
Opportunities to check in with each other are crucial during times of collective trauma. It’s good to check in personally with loved ones and invite others to check in with us. I hope you hear that intention in this post too. If you need someone to talk to, I will listen.
We All Need Beauty
Here are photos of flowers and flowering trees from my neighborhood walk this weekend.
Enjoy.
Gorgeous!
Sadisfaction!
Image Description: A person wearing a yellow and black glove is pulling weeds.
This week, I fixed the clogged sink and worked with a wonky furnace (a clogged condensate pump to be exact).
I call this sadisfaction: Sadness that something stops operating the way it should combined with deep satisfaction at having fixed it. Heck yes!
This week, I also clipped a whole bunch of weeds (those have been waiting for me for a long time) and I got my heart pumping with the exertion of a hand push lawn mower.
AND!
I reached a brand new threshold of adulthood.
Moving back in time more than a decade ago, let me first say that I remember the exact moment I felt like I was a full blown adult. No more stages of emerging adulthood, mind you, but full adulthood. It was the moment I went to buy a mattress. I remember going to a legitimate mattress store. And in a moment of arrival, I remember lying on a bunch of them to try them out. “I”m an adult!” I felt with glee.
Well, this week, I reached a whole new moment of adulthood.
“I am a mid-life adult!” I felt with glee.
Here is the milestone marker: I paid a young adult to do yard work I didn’t want to do.
(And thankfully, a young adult who loves yard work).
“Let me provide for you. To do yard work at my house. That I don’t want to do.” Every part of that feels like mid-life adulthood.
GET ON MY LAWN!
I have arrived.
In the sadisfaction, the chores, and the delegation of mid-life adulthood, I need to give a nod to Rachel Held Evans and say, I am WOMAN OF VALOR.* I am getting it done, and it deserves praise.
*I am linking above to Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber’s gorgeous and powerful eulogy for Rachel Held Evans. I listened to this recently, and her sermon brought me to tears. I recommend reading it, or even more, listening to it, if you can. She says, “As you will discover when you read A Year of Biblical Womanhood, the best translation of eshet chayil is not ‘woman of virtue’ but actually “woman of valor,” and as Rachel teaches us, the most faithful use of Proverbs 31 is not as an unattainable standard women must reach in order to be worthy of praise, but as an example of how much in women’s lives and work is already worthy of praise.”
What Is Your Resilience Story?
Image Description: A dandelion grows in one of many cracks in the mud.
What is your resilience story?
Have you thought about that recently? A story from your life, the life of your family, or your community? It might be helpful to bring such a story to mind – to recall those chapters and moments when we endured stress, challenge, trauma, and loss and made it through.
When we were empowered to keep going. . .
When we gained grit and resolve. . .
When we experienced renewed life, despite the pain we have known. . .
When we gained insight we cannot lose. . .
Resiliency is often totally unexpected, but it happens around us and through us. Certainly, none these forms of growth transform trauma into some kind of collective good. Far from it. But there are times when resiliency accompanies even our greatest pain and brings us through despite what we might have anticipated.
We are living in a time of collective stress and fear. As I talk with people, many are saying that they feel despair and dread. If that’s where we are, I encourage us to honor those feelings.
Alongside challenging feelings, some are facing tangible concerns and threats to their safety. We need to take these seriously and create protective strategies in our communities.
We will be even more empowered to do so if we can remember resiliency. What is your resilience story? Can you call it to mind?
In some ancient languages, the word ‘remember’ does not simply mean that we recall something from the past. It means that we make it present.
Mental health experts tell us that people tend to gain healing from stress, challenge, trauma, and loss when they can put their experiences into a personal narrative. Can we take some time today to tell our resilience stories to ourselves? Can we put their power into our bodies, minds, and spirits?
And one of the best strategies for gaining resiliency is to connect with good and trusted relationships of support and care. Have we told anyone our resilience story lately? There is great power in sharing such stories with one another.
We can consider doing that. And wherever we are and however we’re feeling, we can let these stories guide us.
When Voyager 1 Turned Around
[Voyager 1 pale blue dot. Image credit: NASA/JPL]
When we connect with a sense of Beyond — when we zoom out to see a larger field of view — we see ourselves in a different light. We encounter our finitude, our fragility, and our power.
In 1990, the space probe and explorer Voyager 1 was 13 years old and 3.7 billion miles away from the earth. On February 14 of that year, scientists commanded the probe to turn around and take a photo of the earth. That command resulted in this image. Astronomer Carl Sagan called it “the pale blue dot.”
He added poetic meaning and power when he added convicting words to this image. He said,
Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there–on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.
-Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, 1994.
Our finitude.
Our fragility.
Our power.
Worth It
I think you all probably know that if could choose a person to be my personal patron saint or even an additional Grandpa, I would likely choose Fred Rogers. I admire him so much – not only for his tremendous work, but for his way of being in the world.
A few years ago, I ran across a testimony that demonstrated how crucial and life-saving his work truly was. It involved a continual commitment to remind vulnerable people how special and valuable they were. He changed the lives of children, including children who were abused at home. This testimony said,
“. . . he seemed to look me in the eye when he said, ‘And I like you just for being you’. In that moment, it was like he was reaching across time and space to say these words to me when I needed them most. . . I was sure I deserved every last moment of abuse, every blow, every bad name. I was sure I earned it, sure I didn’t deserve better. I knew all of these things … until that moment. If this man, who I hadn’t even met, liked me just for being me, then I couldn’t be all bad. Then maybe someone could love me, even if it wasn’t my Mom.”
I believe we need a renewed commitment to uplift the intrinsic worth and value in human beings. We need this in the wake of hatred, poverty, racism, exclusion, violence, abuse, and more. . . These forces are intense and entrenched among us. They require us to speak truth to power, so I don’t mean to be reductionistic or say that a simple declaration of worth is all that it takes. But it’s never not about that.
It’s a life-giving, foundational truth, that —
despite the pain we know,
despite the pain we cause,
despite the harsh words we hear,
despite the harsh labels we believe,
despite the forces which declare some to be ‘less than,’
despite the despair which internalizes the same,
we are loved with a Love we cannot lose.
And that Love says that we are worth it.
Smuggling Grace 