It's so, so heavy out there. How are you?
I mean, really: How ARE you?
My heart hurts, and I know many of yours do, too.
I've been giving myself some time to rest - my chronic pain coupled with the world and the detritus of life has forced me to slow down. Today, my neighbor and I walked to the Co-Op and then we sat in the sun on the porch and talked and I was wearing a T-shirt and I let myself enjoy that. I didn't feel guilty that I wasn't working on this newsletter or grading papers or whatever.
Sometimes you just need to let the sunshine in. I sang this at my husband this morning after I read the news and he endured it with good humor. I am listening to it on repeat and dancing in my chair and trying not to cry as I write this.
* sometimes * our pain is our power.
And I have finally FINALLY come to a place where I know that love is at the center of that power.
Whenever people said that, I felt like it was trite and insincere. But after years of inner work and sitting in silence and plant medicine and good relationships (and unhealthy ones), I finally understood that at the bottom of EVERYTHING I do is a deep well of love for all of us. And it's expressed in my writing and my activism and my holy fury.
Knowing that I was going to write this for all of you is what got me out of bed today. I treasure this space. I treasure your emails. I am grateful for the chance to exchange words.
I know not everyone is like me, who is certain she has figured out how to save the world at 7:00 am and outlines the plan for her husband while he's trying to get dressed for work. (Sorry, Zach!). The Zen Master listens patiently and then he puts on his shoes and goes to teach teens, many of whom are migrants that people like the governor of Texas think don't deserve the education Zach gives them. I have feelings about this.
But we need to let the sunshine in. And we need to LET the sun SHINE. How to balance light and dark? I'll be getting into that in my next newsletter.
Spiritual bypassing is a big, old NO.
But playing the above song and just jamming is medicine. Find a space in the sun and sing and cry and roll around and pet your cat and tell Putin where to stick it and hold all the dead of Ukraine in your heart and then, then....
Write.
This is what you have to contribute.
This is how you help other people let the sunshine in.
Whether it's an email to someone you appreciate (one of my students sent me one recently and it really meant a lot to me), or a letter you will never send but need to write, or a haiku, or a blog post, or an opera, or a novel or a message in the sand.
Maybe all you have in you is a phrase and a black Sharpie. Write it everywhere, write it on your hand, your mirror (it comes off, don't worry!). Bathroom stalls. Whatever.
Just. Write.
Here is an extended version of the chorus so you can just have it be a mantra in the background.
One more book for your TBR (this link is a great excerpt, so if you don't have time to read, you'll get the gist) - it has given me so much hope in recent days.
I'll end this with an on-brand Heather-Is-A-Buddhist final thought:
I've been thinking about death a lot lately. Particularly my own. It's a good practice in my tradition - it opens you up.
But it's hard. It's hard to know that someday - maybe soon, maybe not so soon - you won't be here anymore.
And thinking about that, it fires me the hell up. It makes me want to rage against the dying of the light, leave it all on the stage, and leave this world a little better than how I entered it.
It takes a while to get there. And there are days, like yesterday, when it feels like living in this world right now is like trudging through treacle.
All feelings welcome.
Just don't forget to let the sunshine in.
With much love,
