How Dare You?

A note on what's not helping me and what is

“Nobody is doing this right” (except me)

I wish to God I had some answers to give right now. Some words of solace. Little pellets of wisdom that help can lower cortisol levels.

But this morning as my dog snores on her bed next to my writing chair and the sun has yet to rise, all I can think of is what I know isn’t helping us. And that is: being shitty to each other for our reactions to what is happening right now.

Not Helping

I’ve caught myself in this recently. Presuming to know the exact right amount of attention to pay, the exact right amount of fear to feel and outrage to express. And the real joy of happening to know this magical exact right amount is that I can then stand in judgement of those who are freaking out MORE than me (just get off the internet and stop reading the hot-takes!), AND those who are freaking out less (why don’t you CARE about (_____) ?! filling the blank).

I know why I do this. Because it’s an easy thing to default to when I feel powerless. I just don’t think it’s helpful.

You get to feel what you are feeling right now. It’s going to be more than some people and less than others. (Also it is ok to find joy in the world right now).

I’m just trying to ask what is helping. (And by helping I don’t mean “feels good for a minute”)

Is being shitty about others whose reactions differ than mine helping? No.

Is spending MORE time reading stuff online helping? Not for me.

Is spending less time online helping? For me, yes.

(I myself subscribed to Axios so I know the headlines - and Axios Denver so I know my local news….then I try and stop and just be present to my life.)

Is rehearsing my fears helping? Nope.

Are long walks outside helping? Absolutely, yes.

Is asking my neighbor who is a housing lawyer (who helps people not get evicted) about what is happening in Denver right now so that I know my neighborhood better helping? I think so.

Is being angry at people I love who voted differently than I did helping? Not really.

Is singing with the women in the prison helping? I think so, yes.

Is gathering with people and break bread together helping? Without a doubt.

Is reading posts about how I’m not freaking out enough or I am stupid for freaking out too much helping? Not even a little bit.

Mole Rats. They are helping.

The other day I was on an airplane scrolling through the shows available to watch when I came across the first episode David Attenborough’s latest series, Mammals which featured our nocturnal fellows. And watching the stunning film (for those of a certain age - the cinematography is a far cry from Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom!!) of the Damaraland Mole Rat which lives underground in the Kalahari Desert, I thought -that mole rat is going about its busy life not giving a rat’s ass about US politics. And it was weirdly comforting.

(I nearly didn’t post this for fear of being accused of NOT CARING ENOUGH about how what is happening now might very well bring the extinction of mole rats. Exhausting.)

And music too.

Speaking of singing with the women inside the prison, we have a great new pastoral intern, Se7ven and after our latest singing, she sent me a link to this song, which made me cry this morning. It’s worth listening to the whole thing, including the prayer at the end.

May God guide us to know when to work, when to fight, when to rest, when to feast, and when to just go ahead and order Crumbl cookies (that was us last night).

In it with you.

All my love, Nadia

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