For the past few years, the word “resistance” has been walking with me.
It first beckoned to me in Tricia Hersey’s powerful book, Rest as Resistance, a work which changed my perspective on the vital act of resting. As a creative person, I’ve long been uncomfortable with the cultural insistence that for something to be worth my time and attention, it has to generate an income. The greater the income generated, so goes the assumption, the greater the value of what I am doing.
Hersey’s book startled me into the awareness that I don’t have to earn my rest. Rest is how I care for myself, how I tend my creativity, and how I participate in resistance to the belief that value is tied to production or income (a tenet of capitalism).
The word “resistance” continued to surface both inwardly and outwardly. I feel it inwardly when facing vulnerability or change. It’s an instinctive reaction, a pushing against discomfort. I’ve learned to recognize this as an invitation to inner attention and work, an opportunity to choose my response. As I offer soft attention to the resistance, I slowly shift into being able to soften around that which I’m resisting. From this place of gentle care, I am then able to discern my own right action. Sometimes, the resistance is my inner wisdom letting me know the path ahead isn’t for me. Other times, I feel an invitation to lean into the vulnerability or change, and discover new growth. The point is that I am choosing my response, rather than automatically rejecting what is uncomfortable.
I notice resistance outwardly when I hear people speak up in defence of the marginalized, or write thought-provoking pieces that challenge the cultural status quo. I feel an inner urge to do my part to draw attention to what is harming and fragmenting us as a society. I also notice resistance when I read or hear statements which are contrary to principles I hold dear. I feel instantly ready to lash out with insults against the writer or speaker, wanting to proclaim loudly how very wrong and horrible they are.
This word has continued to be my companion as political and cultural currents attempt to engulf us. As chaos, fear and anger grow ever louder, I’ve continued to remind myself that responding in kind only causes those forces to intensify. This is the kind of resistance that tries to break down, and it is rarely effective.
There is a kind of resistance that is creative. It is the force that seeks to nourish, and encourage growth, in the face of that which would destroy. This is what cultivating joy and creativity and kindness are all about. This kind of resistance is where I want to “double down”.
Then last week, a video clip came to me in which an older wise woman talked about resistance in a way I hadn’t considered before. She pointed out that over the past decade, as well as the past hundred years, there has been a gradual shift toward inclusivity, compassion and empathy. There has been increasing attention to working together for the common good, caring for the most vulnerable among us, and caring for and repairing the earth who is sustaining us.
The forces of greed, narcissism and separation have gotten louder as resistance to this shift. They are not an unstoppable juggernaut. They are reaction to change that has been slowly, quietly gathering momentum.
My entire body softened as I listened. As Anne Lamott says, love always wins. I might not see the outcome I want in my life time, but I believe deeply that it will eventually emerge. This shifts my focus from that which I abhor to that which I want to see flourish. And that which I feed with my attention is that which will grow in me.
To be clear, the forces of love and inclusion and compassion are not all pretty colours and comfy blankets. Love demands my presence in the hardest places, even if there is nothing I can do other than bear witness to the heartache. In fact, that is when Love is doing its most difficult work. This is the power of presence, which is exactly what will erode the power of oppression.
Resistance is what happens when two opposing forces meet. It requires equal intensity on both sides. The louder the forces of oppression bellow, the more intentional I want to be about extending care, noticing beauty, and sharing joy. This is, for me, creative resistance. It’s not pushing against, but rather putting my energy into that which I want to see expand.
As activist and author, Valarie Kaur (Revolutionary Love Project), says so eloquently, the act of labouring for new birth requires both pushing and breathing. I must be as intentional about my rest as I am about my activity, and perhaps even more so. As I tend my soul with rest and play and connection, I grow my capacity to choose my responses rather than reacting to the latest stimulus. I will intentionally bear witness to the hard things in the world, and remember how to care for myself when it all feels like “too much”. I will experience clarity as to what my next right action is to be.
How does the word “resistance” feel in your body? What comes to mind when you think about “creative resistance”?
Leave a Reply