I feel strangely relieved to be out of the country teaching a writing workshop this election day, as I was during the shocking outcome of the 2016 election. But although I’m in Malta, not California, I am thinking about and praying for the soul of my country every single day of my absence. I am also feeling all the feels in a way that reminds me of a Buddha statue I saw in Thailand during my Sacred Medicine pilgrimages. The statue had many faces, and the faces had a variety of expressions- sad, angry, scared, joyful, disappointed. My parts processing partner Emma and I wound up calling it the “IFS Buddha,” because it expressed so many parts in one Buddha body.
That’s a bit how I feel right now- sad, scared, anxious, angry, disappointed, hopeful, grateful, relieved- all at once.
Let me see if I can give voice to a few of these parts. I am feeling an extreme amount of election anxiety, the likes of which surpasses even my 2020 election anxiety. This election, I feel legit scared that, no matter who wins the election, there could be violence at home, that innocent people could get hurt, that war could break out, that insurrection could happen- again. I feel frightened that detention camps could pop up, that politicians could get assassinated, that democide could begin.
I know I could feel the way I did in 2020- profound relief. I also know I could feel the terror I felt on my daughter’s birthday- January 6- when I saw the media coverage of Proud Boys and other American civilians in riot gear storming the Capitol.
I still listen to my Kamala Harris For President playlist (which you’re welcome to enjoy with me here) almost every day- because it elicits hope in me. It also elicits the fear of hopes being dashed, of being let down by my country again, like I felt in 2016. I feel anger and rage every morning when I wake up in a Maltese time zone to read the awful things that MAGA Republicans did the day before. Sometimes I even get a surprising dash of excitement- because, well, chaos sure as hell isn’t boring, even if parts of me would much rather be bored in peace than overstimulated by chaotic change and uncertainty. Then I feel exhaustion when my activist parts think, “Are we really still protesting this shit?” And that makes me so sad. So sad that there’s still so much divisiveness, so much hatred, so much injustice, so much oppression.
And then when I scale back and go less meta, I can feel happy again. Joy. Love. Gratitude for how privileged I am to be safe when so many are not. Gratitude that I live in a country that has not had war on our own soil since Pearl Harbor- and, sort of, 9/11. Gratitude that I wasn’t born BIPOC or queer or a Dreamer in a country that is often hostile to people who were, but also survivor’s guilt that I did nothing to earn those random privileges.
Like me, you may have many parts with a lot of feelings emerge in the upcoming days.
My invitation is to allow them all to be here. As Rumi says in his poem The Guest House:
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
If you want more help feeling all the feels and getting to know your parts, please join me and Jeff Rediger for a weekend of life review in YOUR IMPACT & YOUR LEGACY. We’ll be guiding folks through an exploration of your emotions, your priorities, how life has gone so far, and what you might wish to change as we venture into 2025. With much uncertainty in our midst, we take comfort in coming together- with our own parts and with each other- to focus on what we DO have control over, so we can more gently navigate what is out of our control.
The early bird discount for YOUR IMPACT & YOUR LEGACY ends Sunday, November 10th at midnight, so sign up soon.
Until then, I’m here biting my nails and hoping all my catastrophizing parts turn out to be wrong and that my hopeful parts are rewarded for their optimism.
Wish you all as much Self as you can muster in the days to come, especially the trauma survivors among you who can get very dysregulated in times of uncertainty.
Remember, breathe…and push, just like labor. We can do hard things.
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