I first posted this on January 2, 2017, right after the presidential election. I'm putting it up again as a reminder of how important it is to take care of our mental well-being in troubled times.
Recently, I’ve noticed more articles on staying grounded in
joy and hope, even when surrounded by fear. Perhaps such articles have always
been part of the general social media discourse and I am only now becoming
sufficiently calm to notice them. But I rather think (hope!) this is a trend. In me, it certainly is. After the initial
rounds of fear and trepidation, the constant adrenaline wore off. I’m not
naturally a person who enjoys being fearful; from my experience training dogs,
I suspect it’s not an appealing state for most of us. Some, I suppose, enjoy the
“high” of confrontation, even violence, but I’m not among them. Harming others
and myself is not where I want to live my life.
I see also posts affirming commitment to action, often in
terms of “We Will Fight On!” and I’ve been resisting the urge to jump on that
bandwagon. (Also the “Organize the Resistance” brigade.) It all sounds so
necessary, a matter of putting my money where my mouth is. And is just as unrealistic
for me as remaining in that state of terrified fury.
As unhealthy.
I am not objecting to others following the paths to which they
are led. Resisting fascism and protecting the most vulnerable are inarguably
vital to our survival as individuals, communities, and a society. I am thrilled
that people have the drive and knowledge to organize such resistance. I will be
right there, cheering them on. But I won’t be in the forefront.
It’s taken me a long time, coming from a family of dyed-in-the-wool
organizers (labor unions, radical politics, war resistance, etc.) to come to
terms with not being one of them. Undoubtedly, seeing the cost to my family
played a role in my reluctance. I’ve marched in my share of civil rights and
anti-war demonstrations, written a gazillion letters, painted an equal number
of signs. But it’s not where my heart is. I’ve seen the joy in the eyes of
those for whom this is their passion, their “thing.” I want to hug them all and
say, “I’m so glad you’re out there, doing this for both of us.”
The fallacy is that making the world a better place is an
either/or proposition. Either I’m out
there, making headlines by facilitating events of vast numbers for the people’s
revolution (as an example), or I’m
sitting at home, knitting while Yosemite burns.
The fact is, any social movement happens on many levels.
There’s the outward, banner-headline, political level, one that often requires
organization on a national or international level. There is a community level,
supporting your neighbors, particularly those in need. Soup kitchens are just
as necessary as demonstrations outside the White House, although they serve
fewer people. Taking care of ourselves and our families is yet another.
Quiet, mindful actions that focus on compassion, justice,
and unity need not be limited to small numbers. In fact, outward activism must
be balanced by inner activism. We can all find where we are called to act along
that spectrum, and we can move back and forth (or in and out, whichever image
works best) with circumstances, experience, and energy levels. What a relief to
realize I don’t have to pick one thing or level of involvement!
So what speaks to me right now is remembering joy. The year
to come is almost certainly going to be full of occasions for grimness if not
despair, so I don’t want to start off that way. I want to full up my “savings
account of hope” as much as I can, cultivating those people, places, and things
that lift my spirits. I want to never, ever let go of believing we can survive
this, kindness and persistence will triumph, and no matter how dark it may seem
at the moment, love will win.
I refuse my consent to fascism. I also refuse my consent to
despair.
I affirm that I will cling tenaciously – relentlessly – to hope,
and I invite you to do so, too.
I'm so glad to hear that my thoughts are meaningful to others. We're all in this together!
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