She’s not my favorite candidate for a Presidential race, but I do think that Marianne Williamson hit the ball out of the park with this beautiful quote from her book, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of ‘A Course in Miracles’:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
And here it is in a scene from Akeelah and the Bee:
This Week in Nature
Neato Curiosities: Learn about DMT
Happy Saturday!
Welcome to our first installation in what I’m calling the “Neato Curiosities” series. To begin, I’d like to recommend this episode of Science Vs. They discuss ayahuasca and DMT, the molecular compound within it. They spend even more time talking about the synthetically created form of DMT and how it is being used clinically in ways that greatly improve a person’s mental health and outlook on life.
If you have time and interest, have a listen! — Renee
The Best Cacophony
Every Thursday, I lead a support group over a conference call. I facilitate additional support groups as well, and those are hosted over Zoom. But this group of people likes to dial the phone and talk together all at once, so that’s how we keep it. They also playfully scold anyone who calls this a “group,” as I realize I just have above.
“Nope! Nope! We’re a family!”
They’ve decided embrace one another as chosen family. And though the framework of “chosen family” has been a part of my life for a long time — I’ve even writing a book on it; stay tuned!– they didn’t get this language from me. I never used it once with them. Still, it took form, and they have chosen that language and this way of interacting.
That vision showed up for me this week too. I dialed the number and signed in. And this is what I heard:
Happy Birthday toHappy youuuu! Birthday! to Happy! youuuuhappy to youuu to Birthdaytoouuuu Happyyyy dearrrrReneeee! toyouuuReneeeedayy! toyouuuuu!
As you’ll probably guess, I had a recent birthday, and they remembered. They sang together, all at once, and given the conference call medium, it was completely asynchronous. It was a lovely greeting.
The best cacophony.
—Renee Roederer
A Guiding Question
Right now, many people are choosing and acting upon New Year’s Resolutions — most often, daily habits that they want to build over time. As we know, some of these will stick, and some will fade away.
Personally, I don’t tend to choose New Year’s Resolutions, but I do greatly appreciate the collective reset that takes place as we cross into a new calendar year. It gives us a chance to reflect, remember, express gratitude, and cast hopes for ourselves and others.
So I wonder… apart from resolutions, what might it be like to choose a guiding question? A query that can allow us to move more into what we desire or hope for our lives? Questions allow us to live in particular directions. They shape not only what we’re asking, but what we then, begin to see. Questions are great space for reflection, playing and trying things out, and of course, action.
I’m curious what you might choose. Here’s mine:
How expansive can a sense of home be?
I ask this question in the direction of place. I ask it especially in the direction of people.
I am willing to be all-kinds-of-frugal this year in certain areas (living simply is a good thing in and of itself) in order to spend money to visit people I love. I want to be with my people, many of whom live all over the country. This isn’t a sense of vacationing; this is a sense of housing others and being housed. I want to host people in my home. And I have many lovely offers of people who would like to host me.
And in some of these places, I don’t only feel at home with the people I’m visiting. I also feel at home in place. Some of these cities also feel like my cities and my towns too. And I want to build that sense and that feeling. Truly,
How expansive can a sense of home be?
I’m going to play with that question all year.
So… what’s your guiding question?
—Renee Roederer
A Reminder for That Which Remains Unfinished
When seeds begin to germinate, they grow roots downward before they ever grow shoots upward.
And a tweet from @IAmAaronWill shares this wisdom:
If you ever feel like giving up, just remember the last thing to grow on a fruit tree is the fruit.
I hope that speaks in a particular direction for each one of you.
— Renee Roederer
Gen Z is Magic
I’ve known that Gen Z is magic for a long time. Before yesterday, I could have told you that Gen Z has wisdom, brilliance, playfulness, and a commitment to envision and enact a better world. I could have said any of that.
But as of yesterday afternoon, I learned that Gen Z is magic in ways that are comedically precise.
When I was a kid, my friends and I used to play the game, “Guess Who?” Maybe you’ll also remember it from your childhood or from when your own kids were young. You each have a board and you have to ask questions to discover which card — i.e. which person — the other player has.
We would ask things like, “Does your person have a mustache?” or “Is your person wearing a hat?”
Yesterday, I watched two of my most beloved Gen Z-ers play this game with questions like this:
“Does your person run a nonprofit?”
“Would your person get high at a natural history museum?”
“Is your person a member of the AARP?”
“Would you say your person isn’t in therapy right now, but is generally supportive of it?”
And they got the right answers again, and again, and again! How did they do that?
I’m telling you. They’re magic.
–Renee Roederer
Mental Health Monday: I Freed a Strawberry in the Park
Happy New Year!
I don’t love to begin a new year with a post about mice and my house, but… I’ve had some. Yes, some, i.e. more than one. I suppose it’s not uncommon for them to group together like that, though I had no idea about multiples until I put out a live trap and caught two at once.
I’ve become a Mouse Uber. Now I don’t want you to think my house is just utterly infested or something. It’s not. But over the last few weeks, I’ve put that live trap in the car and taken a couple of trips to release mice at the park.
Mice have personalities, just like we do. A few weeks ago, when I opened the trap for these two, one of them stayed inside for such a long time. This mouse was checking out the scene, getting a sense of the open air and looking about in order to observe the features of its future park home. But another mouse BOLTED as soon as I opened the trap, and it super startled me.
A few days ago, I had the live trap out again (just in case, you know). I checked in the morning. While closed, I looked inside the holes to find no mouse. “Oh, good,” I thought. Just to be sure, I shook the trap gently, in case a mouse might have been in the corner out of view.
And then I saw it. There was an outline of a mouse. Time to go to the park again.
There is no money in being a Mouse Uber, by the way. But there I was, talking gently to a mouse as I drove down the street. “How long are you in town?” (Just kidding, I didn’t ask that, but I did say a few comforting things to that mouse).
Once I arrived in my destination, I pulled out the trap and put it on the ground, and because of that previously-bolted mouse, I was really scared to open the lid. I kept doing it just a little at a time. Eek! Ack! At one point, I looked down and could see enough inside.
I saw a mouse, staring up at me. I remember seeing its eyes.
“Hi there, buddy.” Eventually, I opened the trap enough and backed away in fear.
And…
It was a strawberry.
Y’all, I took the bait to the park. I Ubered it down the street, talked to it gently, spent time flitting about in fear, and IT WAS A STRAWBERRY.
So funny. So sweet. (Also, literally).
We humans are pattern-seeking and pattern-making beings. Our brains do that for us. We often make meaning in this way, and we use this process to protect ourselves. Of course, this can create its own problems, too. We also often project patterns from previous experiences onto new situations and see our own fears. This is true when an outline of a strawberry looks like a mouse (I could have sworn it LOOKED up at me), or when we project our stress or trauma history onto new situations and people around us. We assume that people will feel, believe, or act in certain ways because of us. We expect situations to turn out in specific ways. We cast narratives, crafted inwardly but projected outwardly, toward circumstances that might not even be true.
We can be kind to ourselves about this (like a gentle Mouse Uber driver). Our brain is trying to protect us. But this pattern-making process can be limiting as well.
So we can pay attention, allow new narratives to form, and be open to experiences that expand us.
—Renee Roederer
Smuggling Grace 