I love this so much. My mother-in-law died last month, and the thing I've been most surprised about is how many people have come together to support my wife and me. Dropping off food, sending care packages, watching our dogs — community has been so bolstering. But I've also been surprised by how much strangers have helped and supported us. Some of them because it's their job, but more of them because we've come across them in situations (renting their AirBNB, arranging care for my wife's grandmother, etc.). It struck me recently that I knew that many of them didn't share my politics and yet, we were connecting and showing up and their kindness changed my experience. I certainly don't believe in entertaining folks who don't believe in the basic dignity of the marginalized, but I do believe that it's our connections and willingness to engage with other people in a positive way that will help us begin to repair the divided America we live in. I've been brainstorming how to engage more deeply with my community (I recently read about a family that does an "open door Thursday" where they serve snacks and people can come by to play games or hang out and just be with others and I'm wondering about doing something like that) and also how I can go beyond donating to causes in my area and start being in community with people. This post was a great reminder -- I'm saving it for later when I need the encouragement.
I love so much that in a time of sorrow and loss you and your wife have had so many people (both expected and unexpected) holding you all in the light. As I read this reflection, it helped crystallize a thought that's been rattling around in my mind lately-- that people are, in fact, so eager to connect but it's only in the very obvious moments (like when we encounter somebody who is grieving) that it feels safe and clear how to do so.
I thought about that too -- how can we normalize connection as a way of life as opposed to a strategy we only use in an emergency? I teach middle school and I see how powerful it is when kids feel like they belong to the community or connect to something at school whether it's friends, a sport, a teacher, etc. Adults need that too, and not as a one-and-done kindness. It's such a shift from the isolationism that seems to be a source of pride. I feel like you maybe linked this and I'm missing it about, but I love this piece: https://moneywithkatie.com/blog/we-live-in-a-society
I'm reminded of a moment early in my time at Earlham. I made some cynical, flip comment about voting to Phyllis Boanes, assuming that because of her socialist political leanings that she would eschew electoral politics and agree with me. She looked me dead in the eye and said, "People died so I could vote. I always vote." She wasn't saying that she expected the election outcome to be what she wanted and that's why she was voting. She was saying, essentially, I am part of a chain of action and I owe it to the people who came before me to honor them by taking that action they fought so hard for me to be able to take.
This was a humbling moment, but a necessary one for me. Not only because ever since I always vote, but also because I got very clear about what my obligation is to the people who came before me.
I do agree with the other commenter who named that it is Whiteness (and I would add Maleness) which teaches us we can expect to get what we want in our individual lifetime. I think the further away from those identities you are, the more you have to accept the reality of your own individual efficacy. And, honestly, I HATE IT. Having grown up with parents who were activists, carted to my first protest when I was in a brown corduroy Snuggly on my mom's chest, I want to believe that we're getting somewhere better than where we were when they began passing the torch to me. I'm TIRED, and disheartened about the world my own kids are aging into adulthood as a part of. But I'm trying to remember those early Quaker women I've mentioned here before, who were imprisoned and tortured simply for having the audacity to preach in public. Like Phyllis, I owe them. Not to complete their work, but to honor their struggle by carrying things forward whatever few steps I can manage. That's it. That's the entirety of what I can expect to accomplish. I wish it was more than that, but it's not and never has been more than that.
First off, what a gift to have Phyllis Boanes' name be added to this comment section (I think for the first time!). And this is very well put-- how else can I respond to the gratitude and heartbreak of knowing that people braver and wiser and more tenacious than me did as much of the work as they could in their limited time then, well, clenching my little baton tight and walking forward whatever steps I can take.
I think it helps to remember it's not all on me to fix it. And if I need to rest for a moment and nurse myself through some grief I'm not the only one needing to do that either. We have to keep each other very tender, loving, and faithful company in our work and our grief, our frustration and our exultation, however brief or temporary those exultations may be. All of it is shared, in the current moment and down through time. We stymie our own efficacy when we forget that.
As for community, I've mentioned here about my daily love practice-- texting and messaging thirteen of my nearest and dearest every morning to tell them I love them. For such a simple thing, it has really been a game changer for me. This morning I also removed all media apps except for Substack from my phone. I'm still on FB but I'll have to work harder to get to it, which affords me less opportunity to kid myself that what are largely parasocial relationships substitute for real community and a feeling of connection. I'm also doing it to reclaim my ability to focus. Not only is that important for doing the creative work that I'm driven to do, but it's also important for my intimate relationships, which require a depth of attention that is sometimes hard for me to sustain in the face of endless scrolling.
Your questions remind me so much of what animated my book Do It Anyway. Maybe we’re destined to just keep asking those questions over and over for the rest of our lives? Love connecting with you love this intention.
If that's the case, there are probably worse questions to spend your life returning to, don't you think? Also, what feels different or similar about the political/social movement when you wrote Do It Anyway and now, Court?
Also, friends, if you're looking for a book that is timely to this moment, I'd recommend Do It Anyway by Courtney E. Martin. It's listed as backordered on bookshop.org but that was the case a few months ago when I ordered mine and it still arrived fairly quickly https://bookshop.org/a/100834/9780807000472
Thank you for this. I have a daily gratitude practice, and a lot of connection, but DEEPENING connection everyday is an action I can also take. And reflecting on it every day is also key. You just deepened my connection to you and at least one other person.
Beautifully said, as always. It also makes me think a lot about how I have realized in the last few years that I can't do everything nor should I. That trying to is my white idea that I am put on this earth to fix things. Showing up as I do for what I feel drawn to is how I remind myself, the work will not be finished in my lifetime but I will do the work. Thank you as always for being a light for that.
I love that you named that-- something I didn't put explicitly in writing but that you absolutely picked up as an undercurrent is that there will always be a part of me, it seems, whose first instinct when I'm sad or mad or overwhelmed is to flip the familiar savior switch.
I love this so much. My mother-in-law died last month, and the thing I've been most surprised about is how many people have come together to support my wife and me. Dropping off food, sending care packages, watching our dogs — community has been so bolstering. But I've also been surprised by how much strangers have helped and supported us. Some of them because it's their job, but more of them because we've come across them in situations (renting their AirBNB, arranging care for my wife's grandmother, etc.). It struck me recently that I knew that many of them didn't share my politics and yet, we were connecting and showing up and their kindness changed my experience. I certainly don't believe in entertaining folks who don't believe in the basic dignity of the marginalized, but I do believe that it's our connections and willingness to engage with other people in a positive way that will help us begin to repair the divided America we live in. I've been brainstorming how to engage more deeply with my community (I recently read about a family that does an "open door Thursday" where they serve snacks and people can come by to play games or hang out and just be with others and I'm wondering about doing something like that) and also how I can go beyond donating to causes in my area and start being in community with people. This post was a great reminder -- I'm saving it for later when I need the encouragement.
I love so much that in a time of sorrow and loss you and your wife have had so many people (both expected and unexpected) holding you all in the light. As I read this reflection, it helped crystallize a thought that's been rattling around in my mind lately-- that people are, in fact, so eager to connect but it's only in the very obvious moments (like when we encounter somebody who is grieving) that it feels safe and clear how to do so.
I thought about that too -- how can we normalize connection as a way of life as opposed to a strategy we only use in an emergency? I teach middle school and I see how powerful it is when kids feel like they belong to the community or connect to something at school whether it's friends, a sport, a teacher, etc. Adults need that too, and not as a one-and-done kindness. It's such a shift from the isolationism that seems to be a source of pride. I feel like you maybe linked this and I'm missing it about, but I love this piece: https://moneywithkatie.com/blog/we-live-in-a-society
Totally agree, and thanks for sharing that piece-- I hadn't read it!
I'm reminded of a moment early in my time at Earlham. I made some cynical, flip comment about voting to Phyllis Boanes, assuming that because of her socialist political leanings that she would eschew electoral politics and agree with me. She looked me dead in the eye and said, "People died so I could vote. I always vote." She wasn't saying that she expected the election outcome to be what she wanted and that's why she was voting. She was saying, essentially, I am part of a chain of action and I owe it to the people who came before me to honor them by taking that action they fought so hard for me to be able to take.
This was a humbling moment, but a necessary one for me. Not only because ever since I always vote, but also because I got very clear about what my obligation is to the people who came before me.
I do agree with the other commenter who named that it is Whiteness (and I would add Maleness) which teaches us we can expect to get what we want in our individual lifetime. I think the further away from those identities you are, the more you have to accept the reality of your own individual efficacy. And, honestly, I HATE IT. Having grown up with parents who were activists, carted to my first protest when I was in a brown corduroy Snuggly on my mom's chest, I want to believe that we're getting somewhere better than where we were when they began passing the torch to me. I'm TIRED, and disheartened about the world my own kids are aging into adulthood as a part of. But I'm trying to remember those early Quaker women I've mentioned here before, who were imprisoned and tortured simply for having the audacity to preach in public. Like Phyllis, I owe them. Not to complete their work, but to honor their struggle by carrying things forward whatever few steps I can manage. That's it. That's the entirety of what I can expect to accomplish. I wish it was more than that, but it's not and never has been more than that.
First off, what a gift to have Phyllis Boanes' name be added to this comment section (I think for the first time!). And this is very well put-- how else can I respond to the gratitude and heartbreak of knowing that people braver and wiser and more tenacious than me did as much of the work as they could in their limited time then, well, clenching my little baton tight and walking forward whatever steps I can take.
I think it helps to remember it's not all on me to fix it. And if I need to rest for a moment and nurse myself through some grief I'm not the only one needing to do that either. We have to keep each other very tender, loving, and faithful company in our work and our grief, our frustration and our exultation, however brief or temporary those exultations may be. All of it is shared, in the current moment and down through time. We stymie our own efficacy when we forget that.
As for community, I've mentioned here about my daily love practice-- texting and messaging thirteen of my nearest and dearest every morning to tell them I love them. For such a simple thing, it has really been a game changer for me. This morning I also removed all media apps except for Substack from my phone. I'm still on FB but I'll have to work harder to get to it, which affords me less opportunity to kid myself that what are largely parasocial relationships substitute for real community and a feeling of connection. I'm also doing it to reclaim my ability to focus. Not only is that important for doing the creative work that I'm driven to do, but it's also important for my intimate relationships, which require a depth of attention that is sometimes hard for me to sustain in the face of endless scrolling.
For folks interested in doing some connection deepening but who aren't quite sure where to start, Asha has a lovely idea here!
Your questions remind me so much of what animated my book Do It Anyway. Maybe we’re destined to just keep asking those questions over and over for the rest of our lives? Love connecting with you love this intention.
If that's the case, there are probably worse questions to spend your life returning to, don't you think? Also, what feels different or similar about the political/social movement when you wrote Do It Anyway and now, Court?
Also, friends, if you're looking for a book that is timely to this moment, I'd recommend Do It Anyway by Courtney E. Martin. It's listed as backordered on bookshop.org but that was the case a few months ago when I ordered mine and it still arrived fairly quickly https://bookshop.org/a/100834/9780807000472
excited to hear Courtney's answer to this!
Thank you for this. I have a daily gratitude practice, and a lot of connection, but DEEPENING connection everyday is an action I can also take. And reflecting on it every day is also key. You just deepened my connection to you and at least one other person.
What a gift to have deepened ours and other's connections, Milree. So glad you wrote.
Beautifully said, as always. It also makes me think a lot about how I have realized in the last few years that I can't do everything nor should I. That trying to is my white idea that I am put on this earth to fix things. Showing up as I do for what I feel drawn to is how I remind myself, the work will not be finished in my lifetime but I will do the work. Thank you as always for being a light for that.
I love that you named that-- something I didn't put explicitly in writing but that you absolutely picked up as an undercurrent is that there will always be a part of me, it seems, whose first instinct when I'm sad or mad or overwhelmed is to flip the familiar savior switch.