In some species of birds, hatchlings grow an egg tooth, connected to their beak. This temporary tool helps them crack through their egg sac and then through the shell itself. Not long after, the tooth dries up and falls off. It’s equal parts weird and useful.
Sometimes, it takes a temporary tool to break open something lasting—an opportunity, a burst of adrenaline, or a flash of intuition. It’s a reminder that even fleeting things can serve an important purpose.
David Scott Smith is one of my favorite essayists. For twenty-five years, every Monday morning, he’s sent out weekly essays, starting in the 90s with a growing personal listserv, and in more recent years, on his website. These essays are called Monday Moanin’. He’s also the author of Hope This Finds You: Letters from a Friend, which includes some personal favorites among these essays. He is wise, deep, and a humorist. Some essays are reflective, while others make me laugh aloud. Some blend both experiences. I’d encourage you to check out his writing.
Many years ago, in one of his Monday Moanin’ essays, he described parenting as “building the plane while it’s taking off.” I think that’s a fitting image that likely resonates with most people. He also shared that if we listen deeply and pay attention, our children will teach us how to parent them. Of course, there are basic tasks we must take care of—changing diapers, feeding them, bathing them, and providing them with an education. But each child is different; they each need unique forms of encouragement and guidance from us. If we pay attention, they will shape the experience as much as we do.
But this idea doesn’t only apply to parenting. Perhaps less dramatically, aren’t most relationships an opportunity to “build the plane while it’s taking off”? And in the same way, if we listen deeply and pay attention, our friends, family, neighbors, and even so-called strangers will teach us how to care for them. In the midst of this, there are values and commitments we’ll want to uphold consistently. But each person is different; they need unique forms of encouragement and care from us, and we from them. If we pay attention, our loved ones will shape the experience as much as we do.
Also, for fun, I also asked ChatGPT to create three images of “building the plane while it’s taking off,” each one more ridiculous than the last. They didn’t disappoint.
For many years, I sang in a large choir. During warm-ups, if we sounded a bit out of sync, our choir director would say, “Listen more than you sing.” We were invited to pay attention to our neighbors and the collective whole, allowing that awareness to guide how we sang and how we added that whole.
I think that is a good metaphor for many things.
Receive intentionally so you have enough energy to give. Learn what is needed so you can add yourself in a focused way. Be present with the collective so you are in touch with yourself.
Anas Baba films a video of himself in Gaza. Anas Baba/NPR
This piece really moved me. It’s about Anas Baba, a reporter on the ground in Gaza who has witnessed loss and trauma on a massive scale for more than a year, and what it was like to return home during the cease-fire. You can listen or read here.
And now, in ways that are devastating, the cease-fire is over with a massive losses of life and injuries in Gaza over the last 48 hours.
I see friends of all backgrounds, Jews and Muslims, and people with connections to Palestine and Israel, crying out in pain for the bombings currently underway. All week long, I have heard people, who may not be in agreement about all things, advocate strongly for the release of Mahmoud Khalil, wanting to see the rights of students, protestors, and all minoritized groups in the U.S — Arabs, Jews, and all of us, protected.
My heart is with all people in this region and all hearts that are broken here.
Small, white pieces of paper with text that reads, “Responsibility,” “Duty,” “Accountability,” “Liability,” and other words that are not fully in view. Public domain image.
Two phrases popped into my mind. I hadn’t thought about them in a long time, but years ago, I read them in a book and found this to be a helpful framing.
When we think about responsibility, it’s helpful to remember that there is a difference between being responsible for and responsible toward.
Very often, we feel responsible for that which isn’t ours and that which we didn’t cause. We take on other people’s emotional states. We believe it is our responsibility to “fix” others. We believe that if someone is in a difficult mood, it must be our fault. We take responsibility for that which isn’t ours.
We are not responsible for these, but we are responsible for our own actions and emotions. And of course, we also can respond other’s needs with care.
As we think about responding, I think a better framing involves being responsible toward. We have a responsibility to live our values and be our best selves. We send these toward interpersonal needs and collective needs. We will also fail at this. But we can come back to these values continually.
There are many things in the world that need our care and attention. In these, we need collective action too. We are responsible toward them. We didn’t always cause them (caveat, that we’re sometimes complicit collectively) but if we are to live our values and seek to be our best selves in community, we will need to act.
In some types of instances, I hope that we will feel freed from being responsible for, and in others, I hope that we will feel empowered to be responsible toward.
I did things this winter. Actually, I was wildly productive. I saw friends too, and I think one could even say that, relatively, I had a life. But it was winter. And I was busy. And an authoritarian became President.
Taking all of this together, jokingly—but probably not so jokingly?—I recently told a good friend that I think my most present companion this winter was my Mental Load. Every day, I found myself checking off so many mental boxes. The beginning of the year is often my busiest work season (great things underway!) I was working on home repairs, too. And I found that one of my best ways to cope with Trumpism, at least initially, was to have solid, unchanging structure.
So every day, Mental Load and I were hanging out and doing everything together. Now, I’m ready for something different.
Recently, I arrived at one of our local parks to join a group of strangers for a Wonder Walk. Yes, that title sounds immensely cheesy, but in actuality, it was lovely. I turned on Strava because it’s been so long since I’ve been able to record a walk outside, but we didn’t even walk that far in terms of mileage. We walked slowly, and our outdoor docent stopped often to invite us to listen to birds, notice a beaver dam, and become aware of various “harbingers of spring.”
We were slow-moving. It was wonderful.
It was the opposite of “I must check off every mental box to keep it all moving forward.” We just allowed ourselves to be present in the moment. There was a blue sky and a lot of birdsong. I loved it.
So if you and Mental Load need to split off and each do your own thing for a few days, a weekend, or even a half hour, I recommend making sure you get your own time.
Smuggling Grace 