March 2020 – Mindful Mama

for this I pray

One evening last week, at the end of the sixth day of family quarantine, I let myself go all the way in.

I followed the thread of fear all the way to the end. I let myself explore the worst case imaginable as opposed to damming all negative or scary thoughts. Gratefully, my husband held good space, not turning away from my trembling, my tears, nor the doomsday scenarios I played with, and the next day I awoke with less tension in my jaw, neck, and shoulders than I’d felt all week.

Moving emotions and physical tension wasn’t the only benefit of my purging tear-fest and exercise in imaginative exploration. Once I allowed myself to picture it all, I got really clear on my fears. I realized I am not as scared of physical illness and death by natural causes as I am my community feeling hungry, unsafe, and desperate. I am scared of civil unrest.

I am reminded that although this fear is new for me, it is ancient and prolific for so many in the world, both near and far. I have always stayed relatively aware of traumatic world news— civil wars, disease, famine and starvation, terrorism, gang violence, asylum-seekers jailed and separated from their families— but I can normally keep fear, concern, and empathy for those suffering at bay by creating excuses, distractions and imaginary distance between me and them. If I didn’t create these boundaries, how could I ever make it through a day?

But now these boundaries are gone, as this virus affects us all. And now that I know in my body a hint of the fear that so many across the globe feel day in and day out, some for endless generations, I pray I can’t un-know it, even when this pandemic is under control. I pray that every human experiencing this type of communal fear for the first time can also realize that it is the same physical sensation of fear that so many of our brothers and sisters experience on a daily basis, not knowing if they are safe or where they will get their next meal.

I pray we take this new knowing handed us by COVID-19 and work with it to change the way we live as a global society. I pray we change the way we consume, the way we vote and the way we practice diplomacy. I pray we begin to grow and spread the peace, generosity and resources that the world begs us to grow and spread. I pray we use our imaginations to create new ways of being in community that we’ve not yet experienced.

I pray we start now.

By not hoarding, by not believing we are exempt or above, by staying aware, by sharing our best practices, talents and resources, by practicing non-violent communication and amazing self-care—so that we can rescue ourselves when we need to and reach out a hand to those needing rescue.

We imagine, we practice, and we ripple.

For this I pray.

What is

My husband and babe #1 travelled to NYC for a basketball tournament that was graciously cancelled mid-game. Thank you NBA and NCAA for being the first leaders of our nation. For saying, we will stop the March madness and we will respond to what is. Thank you for setting a precedent for our president.

My people are back from this hot-zone, and now we are stuck at home together. We made this decision before the CDC advised it.

Some call it social distancing. Some call it physical distancing. I call it a dream come true.

How long has my soul begged for this kind of closeness with my family? The kind not required by a logistically complicated scheduled trip away from all of our duties and distractions, but rather a settling in, a sinking down, a surrender to our humanness. A call to close loops and finish discussions, to not escape to school or work mid-complicated sentence. To not try to fit in familial relationships among all the external obligations. And the world is asking us to do it.

I feel an ancient itch being scratched, an echoey yearning for tribe time, a longing for community collaboration and solidarity, as we relearn together how to work with the natural elements.

Yes, I feel fear. And panic has reached the surface of my body a time or two. But truthfully the undercurrent of fear has been here inside me for so many years. Fear for the earth, fear for the polar bears, fear for the people in poverty living near the sea. Fear for the glaciers and the grandkids, the forests and the furry ones. Fear for all the things we know and don’t address.

I can feel Mother Earth sighing in relief for the little break we’re giving her, and now I don’t feel quite so alone in my fear.

Now maybe we all look at the invisible elephant in the room. Now maybe we talk about the necessity of universal healthcare, of community gardens and converting our tidy blue-grass yards into life-giving earth. Maybe we address how every action we take as individuals ripples through the community, affecting all.

Maybe we embrace our interconnectedness as demonstrated by the constantly-updating live outbreak maps. Maybe we acknowledge as a culture the inevitable end we all face. Maybe with this acknowledgment we choose to live in more life-conscious ways.

I pray and I choose to believe that this virus can raise our consciousness and our health as a vibrant community. All of us have unique ways of contributing and growing, all of us have work to do at home— both inner work and work with our closest people. For all those who continue to do important and life-saving work out in the community: providing food and medicine, caring for the sick and assisting the compromised and the elderly, —thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

Heart ball and boundaries

I awoke Sunday morning to a Facebook scroll full of images of elegant couples captured from Saturday night’s big formal fundraiser, of which I was pleasantly unaware. This blissful ignorance made me quickly flashback to a not-so-blissful conversation with my sister three years ago, regarding said fundraiser.

Me: I am dreading Saturday night. So much about the event makes me pissy. The face painting, the stilts donning, the leaving the house barely dressed in the middle of winter. It’s not fair men get to be warm in their tuxes, while women freeze in their gowns. Then there are the 10-top tables, the booze and the massive amount of food waste. Who needs steak AND salmon? I’m sick to my stomach thinking about it. Why can’t we just send a check?

My sister: If you dread the event so much, why on earth are you going?

Me: Because saying no would lead to divorce.

My sister: If that is truly the case, Katie, you’ve got much bigger issues.

Time stopped, searing the scene into memory. My gut clenched and we ended the call. Her words hung over me all day. I did have undeniable issues if I could neither muster the strength to choose me, which would mean disappointing my spouse, nor call in the peace and acceptance I needed in order to attend with him lovingly and willingly.

I’d been beating myself up pretty badly, both about about my big group social anxiety -always exacerbated by the pressure of dressing up, doing hair and make-up and worrying about tripping in high heels- and my inability to go with the flow. I know my husband wanted me to be easy, but more than that, he wanted to feel supported. He believed that attendance at these events was part of his job, and me being at his side was important. So important that he’d neglected to ask me if I wanted to attend, despite his knowledge of the apprehension I felt at this type of event.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around what the big deal was for me, it was only a handful of hours. I couldn’t understand what the big deal was for him. I was happy to meet in a smaller group with any man, woman or couple he wanted me to meet or get to know better, but these giant events didn’t seem the place for relationship building.

I believe it was my sister’s reflection of my sorry situation combined with Trump’s recent inauguration and the solidarity I felt with all women for whom men in suits make decisions that finally gave me the strength to say,

Honey, I honor you and your work.

I happily offer emotional support

and my presence in small gatherings.

But for this event, to which you RSVP’d without consulting me,

I refuse to attend.

I am sorry. I know that stings.

I bless you going alone or inviting another in my place.

This voicing of my desire, my will and my boundaries (me choosing me) caused some painful ripples in our household. It was disorienting and confusing for us both, as it often is when one partner decides she’s going to change the dance steps.

But this past Sunday morning— waking up early after a full night’s rest with a clear head, a happy belly and a memories of family moments from the night before— was SO worth the growing pains endured three years ago. And to realize that the event wasn’t even on my radar made the Facebook scroll all the more sweet. I felt empathetic joy in my heart for all those happy ball-goers raising money for a good cause, and I felt personal joy in my heart for me for my husband, continuing our growth as sovereign individuals while celebrating the beautiful partnership of support we are becoming.