Setting out

Walk: East Somerville

Sounds: Apple Music playlist “Untitled” (indie, multi genre)

Today I set out for a walk around my new(ish) neighborhood of East Somerville, Massachusetts. I had no particular aim in mind besides to shake off the post Christmas lethargy and to see something cool. I started by following the roads where late afternoon sunshine slanted in and lit up the tall faces of houses. I followed the flow downhill and around, stopping to poke at some neat fuzzy seed pods, then meandered back and up and around until I was home again.

I’ve been thinking about this blog and where it’s going for a while. I’ve had it for more than ten years. The foundation has long been sharing about what’s tough for me emotionally, and the points of light I’ve found to help me through dark and foggy times, with the idea that it might be of benefit for others who find themselves in relatable situations. As the years have passed, though, I’ve found my desires around sharing have shifted. Sometimes it’s because I don’t want to talk publicly about situations involving people whose privacy I respect. Other times I just don’t want to come across as a downer. And a lot of times it’s because I don’t feel like I have anything of particular value or interest to say.

Yet, I don’t really want to close this space, either. So for now I think I will just write about where I’m walking and what I’m listening to, and maybe some odd thoughts that cross my mind on my wanders, and share some pictures of what strikes my eye. And, well, we’ll set out in that direction and see where we end up.

The Path of Wanting

It is ok to want what you actually want. It’s ok to know what brings you joy, and want that. It’s ok to wait for it, hold out for it, make changes to support your having it. It’s really ok, and not just ok, it is how you are led to where you’re supposed to be.

Also, be easy with those things that aren’t what you want, because it’s not in their nature to be that way. If you’ve tried a few times and it’s just not happening, let it be. Honor the difference.

It’s ok if you love something and wish it would love you back in the specific way you want to be loved. It’s ok to recognize that that’s not going to happen. It’s ok to be sad about it, but try to hold the sadness lightly. You don’t want wishing for something to be other than it is to stop you from moving on toward something that will really nourish you in the deep places where you yearn to be fed.

It’s ok to want something that is rare. It’s ok to always be following that dream. Sometimes we’re given a longing for a kind of love that’s out of fashion, or requires special skills, or pushes the edges of what most people think of as love. It doesn’t mean you’re wrong to want it. It just means that getting peaceful with the presence of hunger might be part of your path. It’s ok. That’s a healing that helps everybody relax just a little bit more and lean into wanting what they really need, instead of what’s safe or what’s popular or what’s there.

In order to create it, we must first accept that we want it. And that’s ok.

Just pandemic stuff

Just pandemic stuff

I had a big crystallization today around how this pandemic situation has been affecting me, and I thought I would share it in case anybody else is experiencing this and might find it beneficial to know they’re not alone: I think the most traumatizing aspect for me has been this constantly being forced to make life or death choices that impact me, my vulnerable loved ones, and my community, while not having access to key information needed for making reasonable decisions. And I have observed that what makes this more bearable is the occasions when there’s another human with me, saying “Let’s decide together.” But most often, I’m trying to do it by myself.

I’ve been taught that when humans experience potentially traumatic events, one of the big indicators of whether or not their psyche/body will indeed experience it as trauma is whether or not there is anyone else there, being a reassuring presence and demonstrating not-aloneness. I can say that for me, times when I’ve felt not alone in the decision making process are the times that have felt  much more bearable, but those have been the exception – just circumstantially. As it has played out, I’m aware that my brain and nervous system and body have been in a trauma response. I’m aware I have a really reduced capacity, a reduced window of tolerance, and some parts of my brain are just shut down. So I ask your patience if you’ve asked me to take on some responsibility and I’ve frozen, or just said I couldn’t. My limited energy is going toward my job, and most days when I’m done with work, I’m fried.

On the other hand, it’s been an important time of learning to better show up for myself. Practicing compassion. Accepting my current limits and recognizing when the wall is close, even though I may wish it (I) were otherwise. Knowing that many may not understand why I’m acting like my inner state is freaking out all the time, and letting my own caring presence be enough. Bonding with myself; meeting myself with love. These are experiences I’m glad to have had, and they’re ones I’ll continue to value when all this is over.

It’s all ok. I’m ok. And I’m not ok. But I will be.

P.S. I should probably add that this is not a request for advice. It’s just sharing an experience I’m having that wanted to be seen, for the purpose of having connection with others who might relate. 

Storm and Rest at Holiday Time

Hello. Nice to meet you. I’m one of those people for whom the holiday season is a challenging one every year. If you have known me for more than five seconds, you will now be saying, “Duh,” and you will probably be rolling your eyes. But I am going to take this moment to speak about why – not in any attempt to diminish others’ enjoyment – but just on the off chance that someone out there might feel these ways too, and appreciate knowing they’re not alone.

First of all, it’s cold. My body is all tense all the time and my skin feels crawly. And I’m prone to depression. I don’t know that it really gets worse in the winter per se; it’s just always lurking around like a ghost in the background, mostly staying out of the way, but not needing much encouragement to get up a really good haunting. 

And these holidays that are all about cheer and generosity and family fun? I can’t unknow the fact that Thanksgiving exists to whitewash genocide; that the true story of this country’s origins is one of mass murder and enslavement and rape and exploitation and resource extraction; that the wide scale refusal to acknowledge this history is a festering wound at the heart of the nation which erupts constantly in hate movements, and which enables the deceptive paradigm of individualism that’s leading directly to the destruction of habitable environments for humans. (I won’t even go into problems with Christmas right now, except to say: compulsory Christianity and exploitative capitalism.)

This knowledge is too much alive in me for me to be able to peacefully say, I will just focus on the positive things we are celebrating, and then the holidays will simply be about those good things, because I say so. I DO want to celebrate and revel in beauty, deliciousness, light, togetherness, giving, cheer, fun, and fellowship. Of course I do! But allowing only that side to have voice, not acknowledging the violence that underlies and made possible all of the “plenty” that those of unjustly privileged status in the U.S. can enjoy today – it HURTS. It feels like the pressing down and covering up of truth. It feels actively harmful.

And: I love my family and friends who embrace the happy holiday traditions. And I want, and also need, to feel connected to community during this season of cold and dark weather; I need to feel strong connecting bonds to people with whom I share genuine love and care, for mental health reasons and for just pure human soul reasons. Last winter was very hard for me, with a resurgence of depression and feelings of isolation and grief that left me just barely hanging on. This year I’ve made purposeful choices to put myself geographically near to those I consider family by birth and by choice. I am disinclined to now create a feeling of distance, of otherness, of conflict by criticizing the traditions they’re personally invested in when I need their body heat and heart fire to help me get through this time. 

And I want to just name here, in case it resonates for anyone else, that it’s hard, it’s tiring, it’s confusing to carry multiple truths like this, truths that seem to be at odds with one another. The need to resist and the need to acquiesce. The desire to access the joy, and the desire to kick over the table and demand justice. It feels like a thunderstorm, sometimes, in my brain and heart. I distrust my motives and my thoughts. I don’t know whether I should speak or be silent or say something else entirely. It’s mentally and emotionally exhausting, and that exhaustion shows up in the body, too. And sometimes I just want to stay in bed and hide for the whole fucking rest of the year.

But: you know, sometimes there’s grace. Sometimes the unexpected happens, and it helps. Sometimes a moment comes when it’s ok to name what bothers me about the holiday coverup, in an honest way, and people don’t get mad at me or think I hate fun. Sometimes the amplification of love that we generate by being together actually gets channeled into the work of healing. Sometimes the gratitude I feel for a particular hug, a particular chord, a particular color of light shining through the snowflakes, fills my heart and spills right out through the aching cracks and shows me what I can personally do to make something better. 

So this season, I’m making these commitments to myself: I’ll try to rest when I’m tired. I’ll try not to be too hard on myself for not knowing yet how to resolve this inner battle. And I’ll watch, I’ll watch for the moments of grace.



Self Love at the Portal

Earlier this week was my birthday, my 40th birthday, in fact. I spent it (and the days before and after it) mostly huddled on the couch with stomach cramps, interspersed with frequent runs to the bathroom. I got a delightful birthday present of intestinal flu. I would not say it was pleasant or fun. But I also would not say it wasn’t good. In fact, one moment in particular stood out to me, when I was wrapped in a blanket, trying many different positions to find the one that felt least uncomfortable for my belly, my cheek pressed against a couch cushion and my brain too foggy to really process complex sentences, and the thought floated through my head… I am happy right now.

Yes. It felt true. And I knew why I was feeling that way, too. It was because I could feel myself being loved by myself. Somehow I could feel all of these tiny little actions as coming from a loving place in myself, a place that loves me and wants to take care of me and wants me not to suffer any more than I have to. And while this is not a BRAND new sensation, it’s still not something I’m super accustomed to – the inner sense of wanting myself to thrive, of wanting myself to be happy, of believing that those things are ok and possible and worth going for.

Here are a few of the things that felt like love to me:

  • Making and drinking a cup of warm ginger lemon tea in my very favoritest rainbow mug.
  • Canceling exercise plans (multiple times) when I could clearly hear my body telling me that rest, not activity, was what it needed – and not beating myself up for not sticking to my schedule.
  • In fact, clearing my schedule of all but the most necessary commitments, which included rescheduling a piano lesson and postponing a social engagement and deciding to skip a class I’d been excited about pushing myself to attend – and feeling a big THANK YOU arising like an exhale from my inner being.
  • Moving my body gently and with tenderness. Allowing myself to just rest, in bed, on the couch, on the recliner, wherever felt the best, without needing to think, without needing to consume entertainment. Many times, as I wrapped my arms around a pillow (or ok who am I kidding, around a stuffed animal, of which I have several) I really felt myself being held in my own embrace, and I felt really, sincerely loved. 
  • When I was wanting spiritual nutrition, reading a book of poems by Kay Ulanday Barrett (a birthday present from my mom – thank you!!). They write about queerness, marginalization, disability, and also deliciousness and history and warmth and love, and their work is deeply nourishing, and it felt like love to give myself space and time to swim in the ocean of their words.
  • Noticing the things that felt like too much stimulation: the fan, the noise from outside, the sunlight, the movie I tried to watch. Turning them off, closing the window, moving to a quieter spot.

This self love has been a lot about permission, permission to let myself do the things that my inner wisdom said were best for healing, even when they conflicted with external standards of productivity. This self love also felt like a quality of being: so that when I lay down to rest, I could feel myself placing my body with care and respect, wishing to make it as comfortable as possible – as I would for someone I loved. 

Which kinda implies that maybe I am someone I love.

Turning 40 is a whole archetype and stuff. As it happened, this birthday celebration looked a lot (a LOT) different from how I imagined it might, back when I was turning 38 and 39, and not just because I hadn’t planned on having the flu. I had a lot of painful feelings come up about the changes of the past year. Heartbreak resurfaced with intensity, and tears came plentifully. (The phrase “ugly crying” is apropos here.) My brain had certain ideas about what was going to make my birthday meaningful (aka, a “plan”)… but my heart and my body both said, nope, what we’re gonna be doing is bringing up all the shit, and feeling how shitty it feels, and then releasing it. 

And it was ok. And even though I didn’t exactly ENJOY it (the emotional parts, in particular, were tinged at times with shame), it felt like a pretty fitting way to move through this decade-portal. Because it’s what I have to learn to do, on smaller and larger scales, all the time: feel pain. And let it go. And feel it again. And keep letting it go. 

And allowing that to just be what it is, allowing this to be the perfect birthday after all, also feels – like love.


Big things and small things

I look down at my hands, and see
I’m holding the wand of disappearance
I know I’ve wielded it
because everything seems to be gone
but I can’t quite remember

I did a weird thing this year. I broke up with my partner of 12 years. I’ve never done anything like that before. It was a big deal. It shook my life to the core. And I find myself in strange terrain – a place that, frankly, sometimes terrifies me with its emptiness.

It’s an emptiness that I asked for, that I sought and fiercely claimed. And now that I have it, I’m – not quite sure what I’m doing here.

(And in the space, feelings arise.)

Trees at the side of a lake

I’ve been told (by Marc David and others) that when one is going through big life transitions – it’s ok to simplify; it might in fact be necessary to let go of a lot of activity. I’ve recalled this advice often as I attempt to navigate this time. Because just processing what’s happening, internally recalibrating to how every every every aspect of life is different now, that takes a lot of energy – energy I’m mostly not even conscious of spending. Then there’s feeling all the emotions: the intense swing dance of lightness and grief, grief and lightness, then swapping partners to do a turn with fear, with excitement, with frustration, with happiness, with anger, with depression, with freedom, with plain old sadness. There’s the struggle with self doubt: this too takes life force, meeting and battling and surrendering and falling and rising up again to face with compassion the old, old, OLD story that my motivations are not to be trusted, or that I’m simply a failure.

Oh, self criticism, self doubt, that bitter couple – and their bothersome neighbor, the Fear of Missing Out (aka, to some, FOMO). This is one of the big places where I always used to punish myself, the gasoline to the spark of jealousy I carried so insistently as a younger person. Fear that I would miss the rich experiences of human interaction that were the main point of life, either because of some unfairness that should be resented and fought against, or more often, because I was simply inadequate to the task of creating them: “Why do I have to be such a loser?”

I’ve worked on this a lot. And mostly I don’t get sucked into this sewer-drain in my day to day life. But you know what can trigger it (I’ve discovered)? Breaking up with someone and seeing them launch instantly into exciting and successful new creative and business projects. Visiting friends whose lives look (sometimes, from the outside) like constant international adventure and shiny metropolitan coolness.

And me being like – gosh – all I really want to do is look at trees. Touch them, sit under them, learn their names and anatomy, breathe oxygen directly as it’s exhaled from their leaves. Lie on the ground beneath them and nap between dirt and sun. Roll over and read a book, or (if I’m feeling really energetic) jot a verse.

Yep. That’s basically all I want to do right now.

And I relentlessly ask myself, is that enough? Can it possibly be enough? Surely everyone in my life will decide I’m an uninteresting nobody, and will move on with their big, important things, and I’ll be sitting alone crying in my twin bed.

Can it be enough? This time of seeking refuge in forests, and clearing old leaves from the garden, and writing tiny poems in pencil?

Maybe what I’m really asking is, can I do this and still be loved? Or maybe even clearer – can I be valued? Can I be a worthwhile addition other people’s lives?

Even if I’m not in three choirs and two boards and spending every evening going to classes and leading Dances of Universal Peace and attending retreats and volunteering with the homeless and rallying for politicians and… you know, all the stuff I normally do?

Because I can’t really, right now. And I hear one voice in one ear saying, throw yourself into service and growth! It’s the way to forget your selfish troubles and find real happiness!

But my body says No.

It says it so loudly and clearly that I cannot force it to say otherwise.

And funny thing: it said “No.” in that very same, resounding, irrefutable tone when I was asking, isn’t it (surely it’s) time for me to buckle down and work really hard, again, on trying to make this marriage a place where I can be happy?

My body said No. so strongly, I knew it was the truth. And I did what it told me. And I felt better.

So maybe I’m in a period of No.

And maybe I’ll lose friends, community, opportunities. Maybe I’ll fall like a stone in a giant lake, my little ripple vanishing in seconds as big important waves continue their unflappable business of going places. Maybe I’ll come out of this time and find I need to start all over, building a life from scratch, because I’ve alienated everyone with my vanishing act.

And maybe it will still be ok, even if all that happens. Maybe I’ll emerge from this night with some piece of self knowledge that can’t be gotten any other way. Or maybe I’ll just be rested. And hungry. And ready.

For whatever’s next.

Wooden bridge and autumn leaves

What Is Virtual Chant Circle ?!?!?

We’re all connected. We might seem like separate individual creatures – and, ok, on one level, we are – but on another level, we are all part of one beingness, one planetary entity, one shared consciousness. And there’s a strength and a power in this connection that has barely begun to be tapped into.

Virtual Chant Circle is an experiment in using song to feel into this connectedness that we share.

This certainly not an original concept; scientists and mystics alike have drawn on the physical properties of musical harmonics to describe the actual WAYS in which we are interconnected with all of existence. I just thought, Hey, let’s use the practice of singing and the medium of the internet to see if we can perceive ourselves as being connected, heart to heart, mind to mind, soul to soul, essence to essence.

So I started Friday Morning Virtual Chant Circle the day after Thanksgiving, 2018. The concept is super simple: I go on Facebook Live and share one easy to learn, uplifting song, and I encourage people to sing along from wherever and whenever they might be tuning in – and I also encourage folks, as they’re doing this practice, to imagine they’re connected to every other person who’s participating via a network of light.

The whole thing takes between 5 and 10 minutes, and people can join in “live” or do it whenever it’s convenient for them. But there are a lot of benefits that I’m at least hoping to tap into with this experiment:

  1. Like I mentioned, the original impulse was and is to offer an opportunity for people to experience their interconnectedness across distance and time.
  2. Since the chants are easy to sing and uplifting in message, this practice can give participants a nice little energy boost for their Friday – when a lot of us may be flagging!
  3. Why are chant circles almost always at night? Oh yeah, ’cause that’s when we’re off work. But not everyone is an evening person, and many who would enjoy chanting just aren’t that keen on going to evening activities on work or school nights. So this is my chant outreach to morning people 😉
  4. It’s also designed to be accessible and non-intimidating for people who do NOT see themselves ever going to a chant circle “IRL” – whether because of shyness around singing in public, or discomfort with the spiritual aspects of many chant circles, or simply lack of desire to invest hours in an activity they haven’t tried before and don’t know if they will like. This is a “toe in the water” type of practice.
  5. I’m a big believer in putting out into the world what we want more of in the world – and especially of using our media platforms to spread positive messages and help awaken the awareness of oneness. And the more people add their energy to such messages, the more impact they can have.

Because of the diversity of backgrounds among people joining in, I try to choose chants that are really easy to pick up quickly. In introducing them, I try to ground each one in a relatable context, such as seasonal changes, major events or holidays, or – especially – connecting to our own inner wisdom, our own inner spark of the divine. I encourage people to express themselves with harmonies, alternative melodies, drumming, moving, resting – whatever feels right and good in your body and heart.

Do these chants mention God? Yes. Sometimes. Different chants from different traditions use different names for the Divine. However, the primary purpose of the practice isn’t to worship any particular deity (though of course you can if you want to); it’s more about using phrases that have been held sacred by various groups throughout history to feel our connection to the Divine in ourselves and in each other. The rest, as they say, is icing.

Where do the chants come from? All over. I have spent many years studying multiple chant traditions and collecting melodies (and maybe composing a few of my own). I draw on bits and pieces of songs from womyn’s circles, Neo-Pagan circles, contemporary Christian praise songs, gospel hymns, kirtan, Buddhist mantra, Sufi zikr, Jewish songs, children’s songs, and songs from the Dances of Universal Peace… and whatever melodies cross my path that inspire me to share.

Want to join in? Yay!!!

The exact time varies as I’m sometimes traveling or have other schedule bumps (like not being a morning person myself, lol) but it’s usually about 8:30 am Mountain Time. If you want to join in “live live,” friend me or follow me on Facebook and you should get a notification when a live video is starting. (Warning, if you do this, you’ll see other posts about social justice sometimes, but I guess you know this if you read my blog.) Or, subscribe to my YouTube channel, and you’ll get an email when I add a new video, or you can just go there and find the Virtual Chant Circle playlist. (You’ll also see an archive of all the previous chant videos here!)

And if you do decide to join in, and if you like it, it’s lovely if you share the videos so that more people can join the circle and we can create an even bigger energetic impact!

So, to make a long story short, here’s the original announcement:

VIRTUAL CHANT CIRCLE!!! Friday mornings, Facebook Live, one simple and uplifting song that we can sing together from anywhere in the world. Sharing a song connects our hearts across the distances, strengthens our spirits for the work that each of us is here to do, and fills the spaces between us with light. We don’t even have to be chanting at the same time (though it’s fun when we’re there together and can “see” each other in the comments!). You can listen ANY time throughout the day and add the energy of your voice to what I visualize as a beautiful sparkling spiderweb made of light, reaching around the world. (And chanting feels so good, too…) Maybe you join in? 🙂

The Shooter I Could Have Been

The Shooter I Could Have Been

Here’s the thing that disturbs me about the whole conversation about whether students being “nicer” to outcasts would help prevent them from turning into shooters: The people taking that position are mostly ignoring the relevance of actual gun regulation, and the people calling it “victim blaming” are ignoring the traumatic impact of toxic school environments. This meme encapsulates it perfectly:

Fucked up, emotionally abusive social environments in schools (often compounding fucked up, emotionally abusive conditions at home) DO drive people to self harm and/or externalized violence, every day.

I can tell you that as a high school student, I experienced daily abuse that made me contemplate suicide frequently, because I didn’t know how I could bear going back to a school setting where I was constantly tormented, and I wasn’t aware of any other way out.

I was also full of rage, rage that came from feeling utterly powerless to stop the emotional abuse. Teachers and parents told me there was no problem happening and there was no help available, while other kids would be throwing stuff at me, loudly laughing about how ugly I was, and holding me up as a public example of someone no one would ever like.

So yeah, I acted out in pointless and ineffective ways. I once got in trouble with a teacher I respected greatly for whipping the middle finger at a random car going by. Yeah – it was dumb and seemingly unjustified, and I got thoroughly chewed out. But in retrospect, it’s so easy for me to see that I had literally no way (that I was aware of) to PRODUCTIVELY express my fury at being constantly targeted for verbal abuse, so I was trying to repress it all – which led to profound depression with suicidal thoughts, behavior problems and lashing out at uninvolved strangers, and eventually alcoholism, a self-destruction technique from which I eventually did almost succeed in dying.

It was only a few years ago that I realized that what I had experienced in school was definitionally trauma, and that it chemically impacted the development of my brain and my personality, not to mention my physical body, in ways that I am only now beginning to fully understand. Trauma SHUTS DOWN some of our rational abilities and puts us in a constant state of fight, flight or freeze – which is what I did throughout those years, pinballing between the three, feeling increasingly like a failure who didn’t deserve to live, yet also knowing deep down that what I was experiencing was not right. Long story short: the social climate in which I existed, and the constant presence of bullying, really did create in me an extremely toxic and dangerous mix of unacknowledged rage and powerful self hate.

I can so easily see myself in the profile of these kids who shoot up their schools and themselves. It’s not at all hard for me to imagine an alternative past in which I became one of them. What prevented me from becoming a shooter myself? My family didn’t have guns. My family had mental illness and addiction, so I did that instead. (Also, I was a girl. And girls are more often trained to keep shit inside and act nice, while boys are given more leeway to take their anger out on others. So more girls turn to self harm, while more boys become shooters.)

I think the evidence is clear that gun regulation would indeed prevent many people from dying in shootings, in much the same way that sensible regulation of motor vehicles prevents many unnecessary deaths in car accidents. And I also think that smart gun regulation is more than a Band-Aid – but less than a cure.

I didn’t get help until long after high school – after COLLEGE, even, when I finally moved away from the economically devastated rural area where I grew up, and finally had access to decent mental health services, where the providers didn’t tell me to just grow up and get over it, there’s nothing wrong with my life (like the therapist I sought out in my hometown when intensifying feelings of unworthiness to exist threatened to drive me over the real edge). (And some people wonder why I don’t come back.)

So when I see commentators scoffing at the idea that students in a school have some responsibility for “creating” a shooter by ostracizing and bullying them until they snap – well, I call BS on that. We really ARE all part of one ecosystem, and our actions do have impacts on those around us. Sorry (not sorry) to tell you, but when kids emotionally abuse a target outcast day after day and year after year, and when teachers turn a blind eye, it DOES have an impact on that kid’s psychology and mental state, and if they experience it as trauma – which is not a choice they can make – it will cause their brain to actually turn off the long-term reasoning faculties and focus on survival in the moment. Which, I can say from personal experience, can easily start to feel like a no-win situation in which escape is not possible, but revenge just might be.

And I can also see how one of those kids could hope that the excruciating pain of being could possibly be alleviated, just for a moment, by inflicting harm on someone else. Even if the someone who ends up getting harmed is a random bystander (like the driver of the car at whom I flipped the bird – he had nothing to do with anything, but he was there in a moment when I snapped and couldn’t hold back my rage and distress, emotions for which I had no safe outlet).

But –

When someone patronizingly tells kids who are organizing walkouts to stay put, and to just be NICER to each other, and shootings won’t happen? God, so infuriating.

One, just because the social environment is a factor, doesn’t make it the only factor. Who seriously believes that there is one single, straightforward solution to the national crisis of children massacring other children in schools? Regulation is proven to help – and is needed (not least as a declaration of national values, that we really do prioritize our children’s lives over money, which is sadly not very clear right now).

Two, with what skills??? Bullies are often THEMSELVES victims of trauma and emotional abuse who ALSO don’t have the coping skills they need to stop themselves from causing harm, or to even be aware that they’re doing it. Leaving overt bullying aside, the harmful impact of the ostracism that happens as a supposedly “natural” byproduct of teen jockeying for social status is pretty much invisible to the people who are creating it by simply going about the “business as usual” of the game of popularity. Kids are not conscious that they are causing harm, that they are traumatizing each other in ways that can have lifelong consequences, or even result in tragedy.

And if some of them suddenly “got woke,” as it were, to the toxicity of this game, and tried to befriend someone who had been targeted for years – would they have any tools or understanding of how to actually build trust where it had been destroyed? Would they have the commitment to keep working on building trust, even if it took months? Even if the person they were trying to befriend acted out angrily and antisocially due to the pain they were carrying inside? Even if the person didn’t seem “fun” or didn’t have any of the same interests or came from a restrictive home environment and wasn’t allowed to hang out?

(These are all characteristics of ME as a teen, by the way. And I could list other barriers to friending the young me – like my being queer, and not remotely fashionable, and cripplingly shy, and if you hung out with me, people would pick on you too.)

In my view, so many of our national problems stem from a refusal to accept the interdependence of human existence. Mental health happens in a context. In addition to regulating the tools of destruction, it’s imperative that we address the environment in which the desire to murder one’s peers takes root. That’s a lot more damn complicated than just telling kids to be NICE to the outcast. A real change here would need intensive support from adults, consciousness raising for kids, and a recognition that different people need different things in order to feel safe.

Do we, as a society, really care about the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual wellbeing of all? Do we prioritize it?

Of course not. Our economy is built, to a very large degree, on perpetuating violence and sickness and self loathing.

And we wonder why children are slaughtering each other.



Kobayashi Maru and Me

Remember the old Star Trek movie, The Wrath of Khan? It opened with the starship being attacked – and quickly overpowered. Just as it seemed all hands were about to perish, the lights came on, and it turned out we’d been witnessing a test, the same one faced by every would-be Starfleet captain. It was called the Kobayashi Maru, and it placed the candidate in an impossible, unwinnable situation. The point was to see how they would act when faced with the end of the line, the failure to save their ship and their crew.


A few days ago, I was at an event that referenced the work of Michelle Alexander, author of The New Jim Crow, and I was reminded about one of the points she so abundantly demonstrated: that racism is fundamentally interwoven into the social and economic structures of our society, and that structural racism is incredibly resilient: as one expression, such as segregation, is dismantled, another iteration is already being consciously developed, is already waiting in the wings, ready to be deployed in the service of protecting the profits of the elite.

The experts were saying, We need to be constantly vigilant, constantly on our guard, because as we’re slicing off the head that’s actively biting us, this hydra has many more ravenous mouths that could very well be devouring our resources while we’re not watching.

And I was feeling despair. The thoughts going through my head: What’s the point of burning up all our energy and grinding ourselves down to useless little stubs to get this one law passed, when they’ve already regrouped for the next fight before they’ve even lost this one? Is the whole thing a setup? Are they keeping us distracted, battling for something they’ve already moved on from – while they just consolidate their power and wealth more and more tightly?

And if that’s the case, how can I go on?


Something hopeful I took with me from grad school: Hegemony is never complete. It can’t be. It’s impossible for any ruling class to COMPLETELY control the discourse, the helping institutions, relationships, our thoughts, heck, even the military. These phenomena are too complex, too slippery. Yes, they can exert a lot of damn control, but it will never be perfect. There will always, must always, inherently be gaps.

And in those gaps exists the possibility of revolution.


The next day, I heard this story, an African folk tale about animals getting the heck out of Dodge as a grass fire roared across the savannah. An elephant was distracted in its charge toward the safety of a marsh by something tiny and buzzing. It raced past the elephant – then it reappeared, going back the way it had come. Then it passed the elephant again, and again zoomed back toward the fire.

The elephant put up its trunk to stop the creature, which turned out to be a hummingbird, carrying water in its beak, a drop at a time, to pour onto the fire. The elephant asked why the hummingbird bothered. The hummingbird said, I want to save my home. And this is what I have to give. So I must give it…

When we decide whether to act or not based on whether we think we can possibly affect the outcome, the person telling this story suggested, we’re likely to stop acting entirely.

So we can’t allow ourselves to think this way. When confronted with disaster, with injustice, with huge suffering, we must give what is in our capacity to give, and try – as a spiritual practice – to let go of the need to know that if we keep efforting, we’ll get the outcome we want.

Because sometimes the calling is just to alleviate the crushing weight of sorrow for one person, for just a while, even if we’re still doomed.

And sometimes, our attachment to one imagined outcome is preventing something much better from being born.


I wondered then if we weren’t living some cosmic Kobayashi Maru. If our guides aren’t up there watching with serious faces, trying to see the mettle of our character as we struggle and give up and get re-inspired and struggle some more, even as each victory is absorbed almost soundlessly into the ocean of history, and the greedy and powerful remain untouched.

I wondered if that was enough of a point. If it could be enough to make me willing to keep living.

But then I remembered that Captain Kirk (well, Admiral in that movie) had forced a different outcome. As a cadet, he beat the Kobayashi Maru and saved his pretend ship from destruction by hacking the test, reprogramming the simulation to make it possible for the lives of the crew to be saved.


There’s always a hack.

There’s always a gap of possibility.

Actually there are MANY possibilities.

Just because we don’t know what they are yet, doesn’t mean they’re not there.

I think I need to have faith that a better world, a just world, really is possible. But I don’t need to know what it looks like exactly, or know that what I’m doing is going to help us get there in a linear fashion.

I think we need to keep trying everything. Every creative intervention we can think of. Even if we’re not convinced it will make a difference to the power structure currently hobbling our human spirits.

I suspect that whatever finally pushes us over the edge will be a surprise.

And it’s only by trying all the things, and keeping trying in the face of seeming failure, that we’ll ensure the door is propped open when the answer is ready to come in.

Self Care for the Creative Heart

You know that feeling when you’re all bright-eyed about some project you’ve been working on, but somebody’s careless comment suddenly makes you feel not so confident? Well, maybe that’s just me. But I was having a rough time navigating various rejections (and, let’s be honest, perceived rejections) a few weeks back, and it got me thinking about self care for the minor day to day heartbreaks that sometimes come along with the creative life. It occurred to me that someone else out there may deal with this from time to time, so I wrote this piece, Ten Cures for a Creative Person’s Vulnerability Hangover, which, to my delight and honor, was published in The Daily Positive, and I thought I would share it with you, too… just in case you ever have a need for such tips.