Breathe and Push
/I hit another wall. It had all gotten to be too much. Again. The family schedule gymnastics to keep one child learning virtually, while caring for a high energy toddler while both trying to work. The news of another black man shot in the back, followed by violent unrest. The political conventions offering mind-boggingly sharp contrasts of what we see as our crises, and who is best prepared to address them. After feeling some relief at finding our way into this new weird school year, and hope about how we as a nation might move forward, I tanked.
The first sign of deterioration was that I was no longer present to myself or my loves. Rather, I was glued to my iPhone or laptop or both, reading articles, watching convention speeches and analysis, checking Facebook, going down rabbit hole after rabbit hole. I'd take a break to help Theo with an assignment or play a game with Luca, and then go right back to it.
I found myself feverishly posting on Facebook, and getting into no-win exchanges. I know good and well these online exchanges don't tend to lead to more understanding or connection, actually quite the opposite. But I wanted a place to put my rage, my grief, my fear, my longing for something more, something different than all this. And I do find some sense of solidarity with other kindred spirits. But the volume can just be too much.
Coming into the weekend, I knew I needed a huge reset. In my hallowed Saturday morning reflection time, I could finally let myself really feel all that I was trying to hold and process, discern what I needed both out of the weekend and out of the weeks and months ahead.
I took several helpful steps:
I did some Facebook hygiene, making sure I can see the posts of close friends and family, and quieting the voices of more distant relationships, especially those that tend to trigger me with disinformation and mean-spirited memes and such. As a friend wisely reminded me, we get to choose what we eat, and I do not have to consume toxic, crazy-making junk food.
I revisited my daily and weekly rhythms, designating specific times and ways to take in the news and be on Facebook, and making them off limits at other times. I set limits on my phone
I also rediscovered some "Political Discourse Guidelines" I had co-created in a Faith and Politics dinner last Summer. They included things like: "Be proactive, rather than reactive," and "Don't engage when there's no opening to genuine dialogue."
I started doing more healing things Saturday, laying off the distraction devices, spending more time with my boys and reading a soul-nourishing book. And then Sunday, after my Sunday school class, I felt a clear invitation to renew my Sabbath practice, to honor Sunday as a day of rest. So again, I set some very clear boundaries: No news, no Facebook, no political conversation or activity, no work, no shopping. The more difficult part for me was then giving permission to let myself truly rest and engage more life-giving activities.
Thankfully, I remembered (Thank you Holy Friend!) I had signed up for an online spiritual retreat on Wise Hope, and it just so happened that during Luca's nap, I got to sit in on a conversation between two of my favorite wise women, Anne Lamott and Valerie Kaur. Nourishing and inspiring, their words and loving presence lifted my spirit and filled my soul's cup. It was just what I needed. I came into this week with renewed hope and energy.
I am afraid that the intensity is only going to ramp up between now and November. This is no typical election. We are simultaneously experiencing multiple serious crises. The contrast between Presidential candidates cannot be more stark. There is so much fear and anxiety. So much grief and rage. So much hatred and violence. Even with the best of intentions and spiritual practices, it can be exceedingly difficult to stay open and engaged, to keep speaking and acting in the way of truth, love and nonviolence. I know I may cycle through this same pattern of overwhelm and exhaustion, then regrounding and refocusing.
One of my favorite spiritual metaphors has always been childbirth. Long before I experienced it myself as a mother, I loved the idea of something so painful and messy bringing something new to bear. Every Advent becomes an opportunity to reflect on what God is trying to birth into the world in and through us.
But the metaphor took on a whole new life for me when I encountered this prayer from activist and faith leader Valerie Kaur. In a prayer she wrote shortly after the 2016 election, then passionately delivered in a watch night service that year, she wondered aloud: "What if this darkness is not the darkness of the tomb, but the darkness of the womb? What if our America is not dead but a country still waiting to be born? What if the story of America is one long labor?"
She then reminds us of the wise words of the midwife or doula. "Breathe. Then, Push." You cannot do one without the other.
As the contractions of this election season bear down upon us, growing closer and closer together, feeling at times like they may rip our body politic apart, may we hold to the faith that our Creator is trying to birth something new among us. May we discern what is ours to do to in the Push for a more perfect union. And may we not forget to Breathe.
Breathing and pushing with you,
Kimberly