I am in a small town in Michigan, occupied Anishinaabe land, sorting through old photos and memories, with kinder eyes than the last time I thought about my young self. I’m feeling thankful for this existence I was given. Acutely aware of how short these years on earth are. To accept what has come and will come into my lifetime. Friendship, rejection, love, failure, clothing, shoes, cars, loss, opportunities, fear, furniture, flowers, conflict, healing, animals, beauty, pain. War and Peace. Ebbs and flows. Rupture and repair. Along with the difficult, the radiant.
I’m feeling the grief of proximity and the tension of readjustment. I’m observing the moments the dog we call Mother begrudgingly lets her guard down with the cats she is learning to reside with, trustfalls of playfulness and a reluctant devotion to coexisting. This anxious little creature finally giving way to each of us taking up our own space, no need to control anyone else. I am inspired by her ability of finding a way to live in this world she cannot refuse. I am encouraged by how each one of us enters the life of all of us. We all are here, each on our own path, to share the Earth. I think of David Whyte’s words in his poem everything is waiting for you, “put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the conversation”.
I am understanding that wisdom comes from humility and questioning, not from certainty, mistrust, or arrogance. What can I know? What can I accept? What must be endured? What must be suffered through? What can be challenged? What can be changed? What is my responsibility in our shared fate? How can I meet this day in a way that both lets me open my eyes and get out of bed tomorrow or the next day AND also can possibly be of service to a transformed future?
With the painful humility of receiving grace that looks like a few friends (namely, my former partner) moving much of my shit along for me after I left Oregon, I have accepted that I struggle with executive dysfunction which means I have to shamelessly reorient to: How do I spend my time? What part of the day am I most productive? What does work look like? What does play look like? How do I make space for who I am in this current moment? How do I make space for who I am becoming? How do I make space for who I hope to become? How do I prepare for encountering negativity each day, not to write everyone off, but to better my chances at patience, forgiveness, and understanding?
How do I attune to people’s feelings and not their thoughts? How do I do this and remain faithful to myself, rooted in my own autonomy? How do I hold myself and others in compassion? What practices help me remember the dignity and value inherent in every human including myself beyond the productivity-as-merit system that chooses only some and neglects to even consider others? How do I create more space and opportunity for people who have less access to space and opportunity?
This is mostly a journal entry as I attempt to recommit to my life again and again. I often feel I’m trying to temper withstanding the struggles I associate with staying alive into reframed moments of living in the celebration. I can’t help but feel like we are all living with PTSD in whatever stage of the pandemic this is and we are learning to walk again, beyond what we’ve been living through, in a world insistently begging us to remake it. I’m deducing that translates to finding balance WITHOUT THAT SECOND ARROW OF SHAMING MYSELF by
building up & practicing my time management skills to make time for things that I value and I need in support of my connection to being alive.
creating digital boundaries with the screens that make me a dopamine hit junkie, priming me for addictive patterning, depression, and anxiety. As of this morning, I have screen time alarms on my phone and its apps.
understanding my own limitations—thinking about what I can tolerate and accepting what makes me feel uncomfortable or stressed— so I can make necessary accommodations or communicate personal boundaries.
making use of the body and movement as a way to tend to, work out, and shift my feelings. (movement can be cleaning, dancing, cooking, stretching, walking, hiking, etc & music is a great jumpstarter.)
I am slow to transition. This last week was more of acclimating to time difference. Mae starts school Monday. We are getting wheels on the track here. With that said, I don’t have any more than this today. Thanks so much for reading. This issue of ALICE is dedicated to writer, doula, activist adrienne maree brown who constantly speaks into right relationship with change, creating flow, and reducing harm. If anyone is interested in reading through either Emergent Strategy or Pleasure Activism together, please let me know!