As long as I live, I may never understand life. They say that variety is the spice of life, and perhaps it is the surprise that keeps our curiosity alive, and our wonder. I've talked before about the vagaries of life, how during a short span, one can experience such highs and lows of sensation and emotion that it staggers the imagination.
The last weeks, for me, have been a fog of depression. Like going about blindfolded, or half asleep. Unable to slow down, to identify or process, and yet unable to stop the influx of information, stress, and grief of the world. Incapable of focusing on anything except the uncomfy ache in the pit of your stomach, or the silent groan within your chest, that says everything is not okay, and there's no promise it ever will be.
I hope you haven't felt like this, but if you have, you'll know that despite the best efforts of those who love you, you are practically unreachable. Even those who listen to your pain and confusion, can only hold space for you, not pull you out. For me, in my walk with God, it is harder still. Because all my motivation to do hard things has been stolen, and everything feels hard. It's as if all the ordinary circumstances, words, and positions in life, have been flagged with trauma-triggers, and anything that doesn't sound like relief, sounds like hell.
If this is news to you, then all I can say is, be gentle with your fellow-humans. And if it's not, I'm sorry. I'm here. The real me is still winning. And believe it or not I am here to talk about relief. About what happens after, or in the middle, or between, that renews our great hope. How it can come upon you suddenly, and make you believe in the world again. And how sometimes, you find that the real you has come through strong and true.
Let me tell you about a few nights ago. I was sitting at my desk, where I am now, listening to classical film scores, wearing my blue-light lenses and typing on my laptop. I thought, Ah yes, this is the life I want. And then my head came up, as if to look around, to check my horizons. My brain had just said i love my life of its own accord. It was such a drastic jump, I was startled. Is this really happening? I took a deep breath, waiting for the dread.
But no, I felt lighter. There was still sadness and grief to be found in my mind and heart, but I no longer felt I was drowning. I had been handed back the reigns, as it were. When negative thoughts and emotions arose, I was able to notice and identify them, accept them and let them go. I hadn't felt this much control in a long time. We are often told by excellent coaches and counselors, that we have control over how we feel and respond; over our emotions, and how we let the world affect us. And often that is true; but not always. Not when you're in such survival mode that you're treading water, with weakening arms, just to keep the faith. ((When I still believe in the goodness of God feels razor sharp against your desperation, when everything in you is screaming that the evidence is gone. But you say it anyway.))
I even noticed that night, whenever I awoke in the night (which I do constantly these days), even my sub-conscious, half-asleep self peacefully put my thoughts to rest and slowly listed things I was grateful for until I fell asleep again. It's like, I was on the right channel, there was just interference.
I'm not sure how long this will last, or what brought me to this place exactly. But I know I'm going to enjoy it while it's here. I will use my freed mind and heart to thank God, to choose positivity, to settle into the beautiful life I have. To appreciate every moment, and stay in the now. To move slowly, as if through water, breathing deep. I will use the clarity of now to process what I've been kept from processing before. I will use my insights into life and mental health to promote further healing in myself and others.
To be awake again is a glorious thing.
And if ever you're wanting to know me better, but just can't figure me out... oh same, love, same.
This week I'm having to gird up my loins to be ready for another year of truly terrible as well as wonderful things. I knew of course, as any sane person would, that the page turn to the year 2021 wouldn't make all our problems go away, or even notably diminish. But I think my heart still wanted it to mean we all got time to draw breath. There is a desperate call from the weary (us) to finally exit fight-or-flight mode (preferably not pursued by a bear).
And to be immediately assailed by the enemy within and without has left me feeling fragile.
I wanted to be able to take a few moments in the Shire. To believe that not every day has to be war. That pitched battle could wait until I had finished my 2020 time capsule, or perhaps caught up on my sleep. Does that ever happen? Well, as the fellow says, Today is not that day.
And so I'm here. Allowing myself to feel, remembering to breathe.
I'm grieving, and I'm angry, at where the world is right now. But I love the way Sarah, from Pantsuit Politics, says it: that we just need to pay witness to what's going on. With the huge world issues and national traumas (from devastating coronavirus casualties to domestic terrorism in the capitol), the only thing I am called to do right now, is to bear witness to it. To seek the truth and understand what I can, to grieve the losses, to process the pain and anger, and to be faithful in what falls within my purview.
"Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it."
I've been thinking more and more about the effect that tumultuous historic events have on the lives of ordinary women and men. How one is required to acknowledge, to process, and to take a stance on the state of the world at large... but one is called to be even more present and more involved in the life at your feet and fingertips. The vastness of the world and the realness of its turmoil doesn't make daily actions or conscious presence less important, but rather more.
It's one reason I keep coming back to books like A Gentleman in Moscow, The Lord of the Rings, Bess Crawford, and many others. (I'd love to hear yours)
“I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.
"So
do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that
is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the
time that is given us.”
I am glad to be re-beginning A Gentleman in Moscow, for my annual exploration of vivid imagery and dancing wit, poignant insights and historical grace-notes, and the vital, compelling characters that live, work, and speak within those pages.
Other listens that are helping me this week include Pantsuit Politics, as aforementioned: grace-filled political conversations, and how to live your values in daily life. It's been the support I needed, providing space to process, knowledgeable discourse, and wise analysis. The Daily: sound journalism, calm delivery, intelligent questions. Listening to those around you, if they tell you what's heavy on their hearts, and giving them space to be wherever they are right now.
Adriene's voice, and the rhythm of my own breath, as I settle into yoga once more. Setting intentions: I will show up with soul; I will remain vulnerable and make it a strength. As I stretch and feel and ground; gain stability, practice stillness, and let go of what does not serve me.
"Don't search for the answers, which could not be given you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer." -Rainer Maria Rilke
'Are you going to give in to the forces of darkness that say you are not welcome in this life, or can you trust the voice of the One who came not to condemn you but to set you free from fear? You have to choose life. At every moment you have to decide to trust the voice that says, "I love you. I knit you together in your mother's womb" Everything Jesus is saying to you can be summarized in the words "Know that you are welcome."' -Henry Nouwen
I'm not sorry that I didn't get the chance to post these three pictures last night. Because I also wanted to write a post about raw, real life. The ache of it sometimes. How life often doesn't feel picturesque, it doesn't come out even. How certain times of day, week, month, year.... just feel wrong. My humanity can feel so frail, and the balance between over-productivity and a drifting emptiness seems tenuous and suffocating.
I didn't want to just publish my daily post, with pictures of my lunch, yoga, and worship time, in a way that didn't acknowledge how desolate I felt yesterday. It is important to me to be clear about this. My day was every bit as peaceful, beautiful, and productive as these photographs suggest. And they are the snapshots I choose to hold onto. And yet my inner life, my heart, inside my locked room, I was desperately, achingly sad; tearful, purposeless; unable to see my way to finding joy, or living for God, or making a life. Beneath a looming lie that I will never feel satisfied or safe.
And this, my friends, is why I study and train; soak in story, truth, and beauty. So that, like the heroine in a great novel, I can take a long breath, look the villain in the eye and say levelly, 'I don't believe you.'
Anne Shirley wasn't so wrong when she spoke of the depths of despair. It isn't only dramatics that bring on such feelings over 'small matters' of misunderstanding, or loneliness, or being at odds with the world or yourself. She had seen real grief. And I think most of us who have faced it ourselves will agree that the depths do not always come during crisis. They resurface when we feel vulnerable again. Or when we are next rejected or rebuffed. Or when we are left to make an impossible decision, unaided.
"It's nicer to think dear, pretty thoughts and keep them in one's heart, like treasures. I don't like to have them laughed at or wondered over. And somehow I don't want to use big words any more. It's almost a pity, isn't it, now that I'm really growing big enough to say them if I did want to." -Anne
There are many reasons why we stop talking about the dearest things to our souls. The hardest days of our lives. The realest pain, or the most foundational joys and motivations. The biggest things: both glorious and terrible. But this is how real people feel and think, from their gut. With drive and emotion and story enough to shake the universe.
I love the quote in National Treasure "'People don't talk that way, you know' ... 'No. But they think that way.'". That concept has resonated with me ever since. It is how I see the world. Why would I limit myself to shallow topics, quench gut-honesty, avoid being deadly serious or riotously funny? The world is. Our minds are.
Its why we turn to music, and poetry. It's one reason I write. So that I needn't worry if I'm too much. If this is the moment or the person. I don't mean I don't weigh my words. I still value tact and timing. Speaking the Truest Things, isn't the same as talking Unfiltered. Every step of growth teaches me more of grace and balance; how love can cover over; how hope can eclipse. But I still want to talk about the Honest, real-life, gut-level stuff. From what motivates us, to what tears us down. The days in the trenches, and the moments that feel heavenly in the truest sense.
I want to be the eccentric old lady who has learned the art of saying exactly what she thinks without making anyone feel lesser.
And I want to be the young-ish woman now who knows how to say, life isn't all blogmas and sunshine. It doesn't make those two things any less important, or prominent here. And this post isn't for everyone. But if you're there with me, you know.
And so, when the waves crash and everyone you know is grieving....
These I have loved:
a ship in full sail
a new-old blue teapot
yogic "ocean breath"
avocado-spinach "quesadillas"
Frankencense, Lavender, Bergamot
Books as gifts
a new version of an old favorite song
Jane Eyre, Jo March, Anna Moray, Lizzie, Anne
writing
trees
deep hip stretches (ywa ftw)
fur and fleece, in wintertime
caring for my cashmere sweaters on laundry day
Daisy Dalrymple
wireless earbuds
honey cake
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| My nod to the colors of 2021 |
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| Happiness is... |
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a dab of scrabble
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"You ever see a pretty dress, a well organized notebook, a peculiar balcony or read one line of poetry and get the overwhelming urge to reinvent yourself?"
Christmas is one of the few things that I anticipate with all my heart and yet am not sorry when it's over. I think it's the new year. The possibilities ahead. The blank slate that never ceases to fill me with wonder and courage and hope. I get excited for the return of routine... with a spice of newness. My music choices have been refreshed by my detour through Christmas music. I've an inspiring new list of books to read, and am ready to reread some old favorites.
'know your own happiness. want for nothing but patience ~ or give it a more fascinating name: call it hope' - Austen
This year, as I contemplate which resolutions to set as my aim, I tried to take several things into account. Firstly, no guilt-trips. No agonizing pressure. This list should be inspiring, not discouraging. I've also tried to approach the issue from several angles.
One angle might simply be things its high time I got to: make an appointment with a new chiropractor, replace my electric toothbrush, clean my makeup brushes, find a butcher.
Another line of thought might be experiences or accomplishments: canoe on the St. Croix, plan a trip to Europe, relearn Liebestraum on the piano, finish 'Stamped' by Ibram X. Kendi, complete another 1,000 piece puzzle, learn to cook pho
And yet another route, a sort of 'resolution by area' is to choose an intention to directly appose one of my particular struggles. Not only to fix by minute habit the overarching aches of life, but also to bring some bright thing--some definite action--to mind when the shadows appear.
For instance, in answer to depression, I propose to prioritize my writing. It is a passion of mine, and one too easily sidelined. It fills me with purpose, things to do, and feeling like Jo again. In other words, very much myself.
In answer to my anxiety, I will aim to meditate.
I struggle with fatigue: I will work on a bedtime routine that I can fully enjoy and endorse.
Motivation is such a fickle thing. I've booked Intentionality Meetings with myself, monthly, to plan the one ahead.
I feel crowded, so I will sell and give away that which I am no longer using.
Scrolling on the internet seems like something we're all trying to get away from, a little unsuccessfully. It is often difficult to find the healthiest lines, as our phones have become our access to maps, music, books, and news, as well as social media. I've just discovered app time-limits and app downtime, which I find incredibly helpful. And I hope will foster more awareness, more setting aside of the phone to be present.
In a similar line comes the restlessness, often a by-product of, or at least a withdrawal symptom from denying the internet, or sugar (our Januarys may begin a bit grumpy). And in answer, we of course have analog pass-times, a category we probably thought unnecessary a few years ago, and now has to be so strictly stated. This deserves its own blogpost and will probably get it: things we could be doing instead of staring at a screen: yes, even if you don't have enough friends, or close-by family, or money, or even energy. I will return to this subject...
For the times when I do indeed want to kick back in front of some solid entertainment, and yet want to avoid the inane drivel of most television, I want to come up with a list of excellent movies to spend my time on.
For overall health and well-being, to combat stiffness and digestive ills and cravings, my best plan of action is to change it up. In January for instance, I will be doing 30 days of Yoga with Adriene (as I've done annually for the past seven years or so) and cutting out refined sugar entirely. In February perhaps I'll do a squat challenge and eat more greens.
'who says i can't be free from all of the things that i used to be' - John Mayer
And there are always a few that try to defy grouping. Perhaps they could be fitted here or there, but mostly I just think they'll make me happy: visit bookstores, watch cooking shows, have an ongoing gratitude list for all of 2021.
"Waste time this year. Go for long rambling walks. Write poems. Try a new recipe just because. Pray. Paint. Knit something. Read that big old book. Write on your novel. Our world is obsessed with productivity, but "unproductive" hours are the most soul-shaping parts of our lives." -Joy Clarkson
I won't say that swinging into 2021 with any grace doesn't take some grit. But you know what? I'm ready to meet it head on, and toe to toe. I will not let my wit be dimmed by grief, or my intelligence dulled by monotony. I will practice presence and poise this year. I will show up with soul.
