"How we are with ourselves and each other is an opportunity to build the world we want to build right now. It is a time for us all to show up: our shared freedom depends on it."
-- Jardana Peacock
She says, “Breathe,” and I don’t want to. She preaches presence, and I flee.
“Experience this.”
No.
“What is life if you don’t experience yours?”
...I’ll try.
I mimic her form. I root my toes together beneath my torso and plant my palms shoulder-width apart. I point my knees toward the front corners of my mat and feel my body’s weight. Blood rushes to my head. Her present voice glides from my computer, pervading my studio home. “Give it a try. That’s all you can ask of yourself. Today, do the only thing in your power to do: experience. Don’t decide. Breathe.”
“Breathe,” her steadiness holds my mind firm as my feet plead for release. My concentration nearly consumes my body, and I fall. “Pull your navel in and up. Don’t forget to breathe,” she says.
I return. Okay, whole-body experience. Try. “Breathe,” she says. I try a second time. I fall. I concede and focus on my breath:
In…
Out…
In…
Out…
I rock back and forth. In, and out. Back. Forth. In. Out. One foot up, in. Two feet up, out.
And I fly. In. And I fall, Out.
But I feel.
This morning, as my eyes scanned the New York Times morning briefing, my stomach flipped upside-down. What difficult information to choose to consume, but I know I can’t contribute unless I’m informed. I kept reading. Opening up Word, I trembled. Who am I to speak on this? We are all in this together, and yet we will each process the next two weeks, six months, and two years differently, responding as individuals to this global crisis and our own personal circumstances.
The U.N. admits this is the gravest challenge since World War II. “I’m just waiting for it all to be over,” one of my friends said this week. Problem is, we have no idea when “over” will be. What are we supposed to do in the meantime?
Some of us are scrambling. Without warning, in addition to your already-full day of housework, food work, writing work, and church work, you’re now a teacher of four small humans who can’t leave your already-too-small living quarters. Or perhaps you were provided three days to move your elementary school class’s lesson plans into virtual formats. And no matter who you are, you’re discovering Marco Polo, Zoom, Houseparty, and Google Hangouts, mastering the new account creation process, and discovering the power of the mute button.
Some of us are adapting. You’ve learned the work-from-home best practices, and have an established routine, a tolerable spouse, a stocked pantry, and a steady groove. You’ve even learned how to move application windows between two modems in your newly crafted home office. Ace.
Some of us are not working (any longer). You’ve suddenly got time! Time to sleep in, time to camp, hike, cook, clean. Time to binge on Parks and Rec and call the fam. You feel a little disconnected from the world's frantic-talk because this global pause is, frankly, refreshing.
Some of us are hiding. There’s too much happening too fast. There are too many unknowns, too many emotions, too many conflicting opinions. The economic crash will … you can’t finish that thought. You just want normal again but you don’t even know what that means anymore. You long for a haircut and a coffee shop afternoon. Resigned, you eat some chocolate and take a long nap. Will this degree even matter when all this is over? Why do these students need to know about limits anyway? People are dying; surely, that's more important. You have no idea how to feel, how to think, or how to contribute.
The reality is, we've all been in each of these places before,
but today, while some of us are waning, adjusting, relaxing, or hibernating,
all of us are waiting.
I was six-years-old when mom told me a friend would arrive at my doorstep in five minutes. Five. Whole. Minutes. I sat my tush down on the top step of the stairs, glued my eyes to that ticking hand, and waited. And waited. It was agonizing.
I didn’t know it then, but there are better ways to wait. My sitting and staring approach, though valid, caused unnecessary suffering. My idleness hurt more than it helped.
While some of us waning, adjusting, relaxing, or hibernating, all of us are waiting.
As we continue this harrowing season, I invite us to consider three approaches to waiting that can guard against unintentional misery-making and replace it with centered forward-movement.
See today.
While attempting the yogic crow pose described above is not an adequate proxy for the hardships ensuing due to COVID-19, it helps to practice challenges and discomfort in small ways so we can tackle bigger difficulties, too. Learning to breathe and experience during hard yoga poses teaches me how to stay mindful and present during difficult conversations, unexpected stresses, and yes, global pandemics.
What helps you check-in and get present? Do you need to add some breaks to your work day? Get outside? Make some tea? Have a good long cry? Play the ukulele? While today is uncomfortable for all us, we only ever have now. Don’t miss it. Experience it. Our world will undoubtedly benefit from each and every one of us choosing to engage today.
Think back.
For me, this is intuitive. For others, it isn’t. Nonetheless, we can all benefit from reflection. The question, “What is going on?” is best answered in context.
Have you taken some time to reflect on March 2020? It was a month for the history books. What’s the story of March 2020 in your life? What happened? What changed? Name it, and name it well.
Imagine forward.
Here’s where I get stuck; imagining the future is hard for me. To some of you, it’s so instinctive that seems crazy. Regardless of how easy or difficult it is, using our imaginations in this way can serve all of us as we organize, prepare, and mobilize ourselves towards the world we want to build -- for ourselves, our communities, our states, our nation, and our world.
In such uncertainty, thinking forward seems a bit daunting, I suspect. But as we breathe and say ‘yes’ to today, look back and take stock of what’s happened, we’re equipped to let our collective creative juices mix and stir as we embrace the future as well.
Notice none of these three action steps involve physically doing anything. Just because this mindful orientation is unseen and under the surface, don’t disregard its impact. Knowing what happened, what’s going on today, and what we’re longing for is the only way we’ll be equipped to respond when the world is ripe for what’s next.
Knowing what happened, what’s going on today, and what we’re longing for is the only way we’ll be equipped to respond when the world is ripe for what’s next.
Richard Rohr, in his book of daily meditations, writes the following about “The Naked Now”:
“Contemplation is an exercise in keeping your head and mind spaces open long enough for the mind to see other hidden material. It is content with the naked now and waits for futures given by God and grace.”
For some lessons I’ve learned about cultivating practices of whole being wellness, check out my Refinding Well series I wrote during the third week of March, 2020.
Love is working in our waiting. May we rest a while, here in this in-between place.