Like so many of us, I have been deeply processing the results of the US election. I’ve needed time to be quiet, not feeling it necessary to add my voice to the overwhelming mix of analysis, discussion, finger-pointing, “love and light” platitudes, helpful advice, grief, and despair.
My instinct in times like these, as is typical for my highly sensitive, super-introvert wiring, is to hunker down, to go quiet, dark, and deep. To unplug or dismantle all of the structures that keep me connected to the external world. To go within, listen to no one but the trees, the snow, the birds, my animal companions, and to accept and release all expectations of my species being anything other than who we are, who we have always been; a complex, often confusing mix, capable of everything on the continuum of light and dark, good and evil, kindness and cruelty, awareness and unconsciousness.
I know this is a cycle – a necessary, but temporary, response to the overwhelm and fatigue, to my grief, to my fear of what this collective decision has unleashed for my country and our world. It’s not my response in the long term, though I always will be a person who needs more than the average amount of solitude and quiet. I know what I am here to give, to share, to teach, and I must share those skills and gifts with those who need them.
I too am human. I must not abandon my own kind.
The day after the election, we had a big winter storm. It felt completely well-timed. A layer of sleet and ice, then the beginning of what became 12 inches of snow over two days, made staying home and processing the gravity of what had happened not only possible but necessary.
After two days of storms, the snow stopped, the sun came out and I was able to go out and survey the scene. I could see that many of the trees in my yard were bent to the ground with the weight of the wet snow and ice.
As I connected with each of them, these trees who have become my dear friends, part of my interspecies family here on my land, I could see that many of them had bent, but once freed from the weight of the ice and snow, their branches were resilient and returned to their usual shape.
However, some of the weaker branches, and parts of entire trees, were not strong enough to withstand the load, and were breaking. They were more vulnerable, either because of age, or structure, or perhaps, simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
These trees in my yard gave me a great teaching. I thought about our human world, the parallels to this great, unusual, surprising early-season storm, and the responses of the trees to this event.
Trees have an awareness of time that is different than mine. Though their individual lives and life spans vary, they are connected with each other, and through this connection and their deep and complex spiritual awareness, they have a perspective of time, and of life and death, that is much broader, much vaster than my human perspective.
The teaching from the trees and their response to the storm was two-fold, and I thought immediately about our current human and planetary situation, and what we might learn from them.
- Cultivating resilience and strength is important. While we can’t avoid the storms, and sometimes the cataclysmic upheavals, we can cultivate the resilience and strength to weather them.
- The most vulnerable branches, or individuals, may not survive. And we need to care for them as best we can – nurturing them, freeing them from damage, repairing them when we can, and sometimes, honoring and mourning their passing.
For me, this is a reminder and a strengthening of my resolve, to respond in the ways I can, with the things I can do and can control, and to offer these to you, as well, as possibilities for response in this time.
Cultivating Resilience and Strength: Cultivating resilience and strength for me will always start with my spiritual practices. Meditation, Reiki, listening to the animals, the trees, the Earth. Asking for guidance, drawing strength from the earth, the sun, the stars, the mountains.
Focusing on the basics: exercise, sleep, hydration, nutrition. Doing what we need to do to take care of ourselves, and to build our resources, health, and strength for the times ahead.
Caring for the Most Vulnerable: I will do what I can to care for the most vulnerable, in my community, in our world, in the ways that I am able to, and in the ways that align with my gifts.
For me, this is two-fold: both in my local community and in my personal life, and also in my online community, of which you are all a part.
In the coming weeks, I will share with you some of the decisions that I’ve made, some of the ways that my work will be changing, and some of the ideas I have about how we might join together in this time of global upheaval to continue to create, heal, and love, even, and especially, in this time.
Until then, let’s all take some time to recover, regroup, rest, and then emerge with new energy to do what is in our hearts to do.
We are in this together.