Wow. Life is Really A Lot right now, isn’t it?
Complete emotional overwhelm feels just one more press conference or news story away. Yet, as someone dedicated to showing up for life and for the people around me, curling up under a blanket and staying there for the next number of years isn’t an option.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the oft-quoted words from Dr. Martin Luther King, “Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that.”
What is hate, actually? I believe it is devaluing the other, refusing to see the other’s humanity and suffering.
How often do I not acknowledge my own suffering? Frequently, if I’ll be honest. When I’m tired, but push myself to do “just one more thing” before I rest. When I push myself to accomplish and achieve, even when my heart just wants quiet and comfort. When I inwardly berate myself for what I didn’t do, or what I did “wrong”, or how I should be different from what I just am in this moment. The painful truth is that when I succumb to this way of treating myself, it always, always spills out onto those around me. I no longer have the capacity to be compassionate toward their humanity, their very normal and natural stumbles, their ways of being that unsettle me.
If I want to be the love in the world that I want to see, to paraphrase Mahatma Ghandi, it starts with being love to myself.
That is really hard.
Patriarchy has, over the course of generations, trained us to believe our value is how we can make others’ lives easier, in always putting our attention outside ourselves. Capitalism has convinced us our value is in what we produce that can be exchanged for money.
Self-compassion, then, is deeply subversive. It turns my attention to “what do I need for care in this moment?” Most often, what is needed first is simply acknowledging that I am (today, anyway) tired, overwhelmed, sad, and scared. This acknowledgement is not an attempt to “fix” or change what I feel. That rarely works, anyway.
My tender, inner self needs to be heard … by me.
The next step is then to pay attention to the “need” I’m feeling in my heart and nervous system. Do I need to step away from the news for a day or two? Do I need to take an hour to do something enjoyable, like read a novel or watch a favourite show? Do I need to buy myself some fresh flowers to add beauty to my workspace? Do I need to ask a loved one for a hug, or a friend for a few minutes of conversation?
These actions feel so small in the face of huge currents of trauma and chaos swirling around us. However, they are anything but small. They require our conscious commitment to our inner experience, which is takes effort. These small bits of attention are seeds of love we plant in our own hearts. They are nourishment for our souls, and they multiply into presence and acts of care into the world beyond us.
This is why it is also important to cultivate what I call “rhythms of care”. Nourishment comes from regularly giving attention to my heart and my needs rather than only doing so when I’m completely depleted. My personal rhythm of care includes my daily soul-practices, as well as seeking out laughter, intentionally noticing beauty, and ensuring I have regular physical exercise. Once a week, I have a “TV date” with a loved one who lives in a different time zone, when we simultaneously watch a TV show we both enjoy and share observations by text.
Brene Brown talks about having “a strong back, a soft front and a wild heart”. She says, “For me, that strong back is grounded confidence and boundaries. The soft front is staying vulnerable and curious. The mark of a wild heart is living out these paradoxes in our lives and not giving into the either/or BS that reduces us. It’s showing up in our vulnerability and our courage, and, above all else, being both fierce and kind.”
The strong back is what enables us to not break under the load of turmoil and heartbreak, and our hearts only stay wild and soft when we care for them deeply, tenderly and consistently. Each act of care we give ourselves has a ripple effect into the outer world. It’s being the love we want to see.
What does your heart need in this moment? What pops into your thoughts immediately in response to that question? Even if what comes first to mind isn’t doable in the moment, is there some smaller version of it that is possible? How can you incorporate that small attention to yourself into a regular rhythm of care?
Leave a Reply