Smuggling Grace

After finishing dinner, I crossed the street to get on the D.C. Metro, and as I walked along the crosswalk, the U.S. Capitol suddenly came into view. Since I’m not as familiar with the area, I didn’t expect that emergence, I smiled at the discovery and took a photograph.

But then, it suddenly in dawned on me that I was standing on a street corner on the very route that people took to march to the Capitol — that arrival that soon after, became an insurrection on January 6. It gave me pause. I was able to picture all of that in a new way, and it felt very real.

Last week, a friend sent one of my community groups a podcast recommendation. It’s the story of white supremacist race riot that took place in Wilmington, North Carolina in 1898, which then ended in a coup of the state government through rigged election. After that happened, these very legislators in North Carolina began to codify a series of laws that eventually came to be known as Jim Crow. The podcast is about how media was complicit in willingly distorting and then completely burying the story of what happened in Wilmington. People didn’t come to know about it again until recent years, because thankfully, Black writers left breadcrumbs of information for people to discover later.

Here’s the podcast episode:
Scene on Radio: The Forgetting

Additionally, I’ve been noticing something taking place on my Facebook feed. I’m finding that there are a lot of beautiful and cute images showing up from accounts I’ve never followed — some look real, some look AI generated. Typically, they’re nature images. What’s the harm in sharing images like these?

To give one example, there was a beautiful photo (maybe real, I don’t know) from a group that called something like, Michigan Beauty. It showed up on my feed. I had never followed it, but there it was. I loved the image and thought, “Oh, that’s a group I would actually join.” So I went to join, and there were membership questions, including, “Do you live in Michigan?” and “What is your zip code?”

And I thought… Maybe this is getting us primed for the election, because I live in a possible swing state. Where do you live, so later, we can show you, not nature photos, but other media and alternative facts? Not necessarily on the page of “Michigan Beauty” but so you can be targeted with ads and the like?

No, thank you.

I probably wouldn’t have had that thought in the slightest, if I wasn’t also aware that I had never followed this group, yet it had emerged on my feed. (Did a FB friend like it? Was it paid for, like an ad? Some other way? Why is it on my feed?)

I’m not a conspiracy theorist. But I’m a realist. And I’m also still realistically hopeful at what we can create together, while being diligent. I think we need to be hopeful, but diligent.

What are you noticing?

—Renee Roederer

I had the pleasure of spending the weekend with a precious six year old who is sweet, funny, cuddly, and so very playful. From the moment she wakes up to the moment she goes to bed, she is constantly engaging herself and others in pretend play. “Let’s play snake!” (with a jump rope). “Let’s play campsite!” (gets out the sleeping bag). And my favorite of the weekend, “Let’s play roommates with these paper dolls! This is the bed, this is the kitchen, and this is the bathroom. Pretend that every time you go into a room, I surprise you because I’m already there.” Each surprise scenario led to so many giggles.

This had me wondering — and I giggled myself about this — what if people my age had the exact same mindset and way of being in the world, but with this-age things?

Pretend you’re having a midlife crisis!

Act like you’re about to sign for a mortgage, but the previous owners back out of the deal!

Okay, you’re about to make dinner, but you realize you don’t have enough energy, so you just go to Chipotle.

Maybe that wouldn’t quite work. But her way of being is inviting. I think we could do with more imagination, possibility-thinking, and believing that things could turn out beautifully, even magically. We just have to be open to them, try them out, engage in the right kind of scenarios, and together, make them so.

—Renee Roederer

A couple weeks ago, we initiated a series on attachment styles. If you missed the introductory post, you can go there, and then you can learn more about the core wounds of each insecure attachment style.  From these, we can consider what our attachment styles are, as well as how these impact our internal feelings and relationships.

To recap a little, there are four primary attachment styles. There is the secure attachment style, and three insecure attachment styles — 1) anxious preoccupied, 2) fearful avoidant (also sometimes called disorganized or anxious-avoidant), and 3) dismissive avoidant. There is a great deal of psychological research around these, first championed by John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth, and a lot of interest in recent years.

Attachment styles develop very early in life, though we can work to heal these patterns. From these patterns, we often build narratives around the scaffolding of our own fears, and they can cause friction in our relationships.

Today, I’ll invite us to learn again from Thais Gibson, a therapist who has done tremendous work in these areas. These videos are about protest behaviors. What are these? They care coping mechanisms, triggers, and behaviors we take to the manage closeness and space in relationships, particularly during times of stress and conflict.

— Photos by Renee Roederer

I chose today’s direction because I had a chance to learn more about this star cluster at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum (one of my favorite places!) This video shares similar star stories across cultures. Beyond these two featured, additional cultures thought of the Pleiades as sisters in the sky.

This time last year, after the loss of two dear people, just five days apart, I encountered the poem, “Adrift,” by Mark Nepo. It’s a touching expression of what it feels like to live with feelings of grief and gratitude, both together. I’d love to share it today.

Adrift by Mark Nepo

Everything is beautiful and I am so sad.
This is how the heart makes a duet of
wonder and grief. The light spraying
through the lace of the fern is as delicate
as the fibers of memory forming their web
around the knot in my throat. The breeze
makes the birds move from branch to branch
as this ache makes me look for those I’ve lost
in the next room, in the next song, in the laugh
of the next stranger. In the very center, under
it all, what we have that no one can take
away and all that we’ve lost face each other.
It is there that I’m adrift, feeling punctured
by a holiness that exists inside everything.
I am so sad and everything is beautiful.

Is there a word, phrase, or image that stands out to you?

Eh, forget New Year’s Resolutions. This is a whole different month than that first one.

But let’s think again…

Is there something you want to learn about?

Is there something you want to explore in self-growth?

Is there something you want to try?

Is there something you want to let go of?

Is there a way to be kinder to yourself?

Is there a practice you want to pick up?

Is there a large goal that you might move forward in small increments — maybe 5, 10, or 15 minutes a day?

Today is a good day to start any of these. We just have to set an intention and commit (and be kind to ourselves if we miss a day here or there, or if these come and go).

—Renee Roederer

I was getting to know someone and was impressed with the breadth of her interests. I also noticed how much she lit up to talk about them. “You are a Renaissance person,” I said.

Then joyfully, she added, “Oh! And I go to Renaissance fairs!”

We laughed. Her delight was contagious.

I love how unique and particular we humans are. There are times when any one of us might want to hide that quirky interest, love, or hobby. But I’ve noticed that when people are willing to share these with joy, we appreciate their uniqueness and feel all the more comfortable to be who we are, too.

Don’t hide that fun hobby under a bushel basket. Please nerd out.

—Renee Roederer