[As it did with an earlier post, my mind immediately went to “moron overcoming”. Which, while decidedly not taking the high road, is unfortunately apt.]
My body and mind feel like it’s been a few years since I wrote two weeks ago about overcoming our current circumstances. Not gonna lie, there have been times during the last two weeks, where, despite my resolution to shine a light and avoid despair, I’ve been on the verge of hyperventilating. Simply seeing certain headlines as I log on to my computer, even without reading further, is overwhelming. And I’m sorry, but where are the grownups? Or the guardrails? How long can we keep saying “well, that could never happen” when so much that has already happened was previously unimaginable?
Which means it’s time to double down on the things I know I can do to resist despondency. I was gratified by the response to my last post: in addition to comments on the blog I also received a number of phone calls, texts, and emails. For me, this underscores the importance of community; of sharing our concerns and our resources and our ideas for actions (however small). The reality is dawning that the chaos is not finite and that our efforts to maintain our equilibrium need to be enduring. My small contribution to this community will be periodically sharing ways I’m finding to carry on without being in denial of what’s happening. Ways to deal with the duality of living through this shit show.
Here are a few things that have lowered my blood pressure or made me feel like I’m taking baby steps toward doing my part:
Adding inspiration. I’ve drastically reduced my doomscrolling (I realized I was really hope scrolling but had to admit that the doom just predominates, and I need to find a different way to zone out) and substituted reading things that make me think or make me laugh (often both). My two newest Substack additions are That’s Marvelous by Josh Gondleman and It’s Not Too Late by Jennifer Louden (a non-fiction writer I’ve loved for years). One thing I love about Substack is that authors recommend other authors. Which makes it easy to find your people.
I’ve also further curated my two remaining social media accounts. I’ve started over on BlueSky and am currently following only about 25 accounts (mostly authors and a few democracy warrior accounts).
On Instagram I’ve “not interested” any accounts that espouse doom and gloom in hopes of eventually seeing less of them. I’ve also added a few accounts that I thought were particularly helpful or hopeful.
Two I especially love:
austinkleon. An author/artist whose creative, positive messages caught my eye. He recently responded to a question about what one should write in a diary by saying that he asks himself what his favorite thing was about the day before. My morning journaling now includes my answer to that question (and I’ve been surprised at how often it’s an interaction with the CWP).
mariapopova. I’ve actually subscribed to her The Marginalian since it was called Brain Pickings long ago. On Instagram I fell in love all over again with her inspiring quotes and her gorgeous art and poetry from her almanacofbirds.org.
Revamping consumption. It’s a slow start, but I’m happy to report I spent a morning this weekend switching all of my supplements, cosmetics, toiletries and miscellaneous household products from Amazon to alternate sources (Walgreens for the big win). I’ve also been avoiding Publix (my walkable grocery store) in favor of a nearby farm stand that carries a small assortment of prepared foods, dried goods, and beverages, all without the price gouging. I will continue to re-source, and I’m forming a list of major retailers that don’t support the current regime of cruelty.
Getting outside. I’ve doubled my daily dog walks and have been doing all of my local errands on foot. I’ve also been taking advantage of the cooler weather and sitting outside more while my pal gets in a little sun worship.
Positive escapism. As much as possible, I’m making sure my pleasure reading and tv watching have no resemblance to our current predicament. No dystopian scenarios of pestilence and disaster. No tyranny or hatred. Give me a heart-pounding spy thriller or a ridiculous rom-com any time.
Noting what’s good. Last year I started keeping a “joy jar” for colorful scraps of paper on which I’ve jotted down something that made my heart sing; it could be a night with a friend, an amazing meal, or a fabulous day trip. (Reading those at the end of the year brought an incredible surge of gratitude as I remembered the huge number of blessings I’ve been showered with, and I know it will become an annual ceremony.) My morning journaling also includes a nod to the good things happening in my life. And now, lucky you, I’ve decided that I’m going to share some highlights here as well, because we need all the positivity we can get. This week’s favorites:
-I stumbled across Wrangling the Doubt Monster, by Amy L. Bernstein, a quick, fun but deep read that made me look at my doubt of my writing abilities in a whole new way. As something not to deny or erase, but to coexist with (the old dialectic again). I loved this quote:
“Do not fear the seeds of doubt, for they are but the tender shoots of your resolve.”
-At the spa where I’ve started having deep tissue massage to address the epic misalignment of my entire body following last year’s back fiasco, a mini piece of art that appeared to have my name on it called to me. It now sits on my desk and quite often accompanies me to other rooms; it makes a fabulous worry stone.
Let’s watch out for each other. Let's keep our chins up and our hearts soft.
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Thanks for reading. Please, please, please share your survival suggestions for these interesting times.
nice....
Sharing a poem that was shared this morning by our running group leader (full disclosure I have not run with the group for nearly two years, … new knee).
Hope this helps some cope.
Here’s a poem ”Love After Love” by Nobel Prize-winning poet and playwright Derek Walcott:
The time will come when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you…