february: forgiveness
Where would we be as societies, cultures, families, and business organizations if we could all tap into what our bodies need? That’s what I like to imagine most…and to me, that is forgiveness. Body work, massages, taking walks, and meditating are apologies to the body. They re-regulate our nervous systems that get shaken and traumatized just on our way to work (think about it on your next commute when someone cuts you off or yells at you on the train).
february: work
The work of imagination is to let it fucking RUN, baby! Run, run, and don’t stop. There are already enough restrictions, borders, and policing in this world; your dream life, your inner world should be the first place we practice abolishing those inherited and restrictive habits (arguably, generational curses). Such freedom, acceptance, and lawlessness can be terrifying since it’s often the opposite of what we’ve experienced. In fact, such a pure form of imagination often directly contradicts what we were told was “safe.”
february: notice
Before March 2020, we couldn’t have possibly imagined the absolute chaos, destruction, and suffering this pandemic would bring about. Two years later, we now have more memories, a different perspective of the world, a deeper understanding, and completely new avenues in which to imagine. The question is now–how do we integrate and understand those experiences so as to build a future that we not only need, but also desire?
february: intention
We’re at a critical point here. We have been for about 2 years. To be overworked and underpaid in such a time of collective grief keeps our heads down, able only to focus on what’s directly in front of us–bills, food, work, kids, etc. Now last month, this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Survival at this point in time is radical. And if that’s true, then hope and imagination must be utterly transcendental at this point.
january: forgiveness
Another part of this forgiveness is the freedom you give yourself to admit when it feels like you can no longer endure. You didn’t fail because the world got too heavy. Breaking down and tapping into all of the feelings of, “this is all a bit too much right now,” can be powerful, healing, and guide you toward the next best thing you can do for you and your future self.
january: work
We’ve all spent more mental energy tracking what activities we’ve done, who we’ve been in contact with, and if that tickle in our throats is just allergies or something more lethal. The anxiety of it all adds to the fatigue and sleep is no longer restful or restorative, but rather just a break from the Covid-calculations. This is the longest some of us have been inconvenienced by our bodies and the health care system. But disabled folks have been here before and there is wisdom, medicine, and righteous anger in their(/our) stories of survival.
january: notice
Everyone I know is at their wits end because there seems to be no logical thinking coming from authority figures who could actually help keep us safe from a still-deadly-or-at-least-debilitating virus. We’re masked, vaxxed, boosted, and distanced, so now what…?
january: intention
Endurance involves acceptance, commitment, and resolve from the very beginning until the absolute end. And in the case of the Covid-19 pandemic, it has meant masking, distancing, and staying away from large gatherings from March 2020 till now (and at this rate, well into the future).
december: forgiveness
I tend to feel uneasy during times of celebration and often begin to worry that all of this is too good to be true or that if I believe in the praise I’m getting then I’ll become egotistical and inherently bad–it’s pretty fucked up. Which is why I need forgiveness/ self-acceptance smack-dab in the middle of my celebrations.
december: work
For this month, maybe “experiment” or “play” would be better suggestions than “work,” since the formal ideas of labor and celebration seem to be perfect antonyms in our culture. But then again, why shy away from the reality of the feelings we’re facing during this time? Afterall, the whole point of this Year of Healing project is to welcome in the truths coming up for us.
december: notice
If that drink after work with friends leaves you emotionally and physically hungover, is it really celebrating anything at all or is it just repeating an easy pattern that solves a short-term problem, denying anything deeper? Maybe even start by defining what celebrations mean to you, because for some people it might include some shedding of energy or health. For me, it has to be replenishing. I cannot wake up the next morning exhausted and feel as if any celebration was actually accomplished.
december: intention
Getting through all the woes and grief of this pandemic is a cause for celebration in and of itself. But to really celebrate such a triumph, we cannot deny the less-than-festive reality of new variants and rising transmission rates. Is there a way to remain present in the universal truth while revelling in our personal joy? And what might that look like for you and yours? What intentions can you bring to the holidays this year and every celebration in between?
november: forgiveness
Without forgiveness, we might as well be wholly embalmed in our past understanding and ways of life, locked in a karmic coffin of “it’s always been this way.” But stepping up to the challenges of our day to accept the truth and the divinity of our own mortality is to live and die sustainably, for the greater good.
november: work
We are nothing without death. We must learn to coexist with its beautifully chaotic nature or we will continue to lose sight of purpose and hope. Get comfortable in your own skin to the point of no longer needing it.
november: notice
Death cannot have just one definition because the meaning of our existence can be defined in as many ways as it can be experienced; so is true of death. And other people’s lives can (and should) impact us and affect our view of life just as their passing has the potential to do so, as long as we open ourselves up to the grief they inspire.
november: intention
But the ultimate truth is that my relationship with death, like most any relationship, is rather complicated. It ebbs and flows the more I see of it and the greater contexts in which I can relate to it. Finding it in the snack aisle at the grocery store or feeling death as a kiss by a gust of wind. Sometimes it is sweet and other times haunting.
a note on november: death
We’ve been counting deaths for a year and a half. Everyday we have new and rising death-toll numbers. And we often see them as abstract, forgetting they are neighbors and family members. Real flesh and blood. It’s easy to outsource death as a statistic and keep it safely as such, rather than accepting that we are part of the sum. Our lives have been on the line for 18 months and having to navigate that reality can simply become too much.
october: forgiveness
Forgiveness dulls the sharp edge (which our culture teaches should be around emotional expression) thus allowing us to actually feel what needs to be felt in order to begin the healing process. You can’t cope with emotional turmoil that you keep hidden from yourself. And our society often markets “self-care” as a convenient hiding place for our emotions, rather than creating free and liberating pastures in which to explore true healing modalities through emotional awareness.
october: work
Many of us lost vital emotional outlets--disconnecting from each other for the greater good has been just as detrimental (personally) as it has been beneficial (communally). It wasn’t easy and it certainly isn’t getting any easier. We just might be getting used to it, a little better at hiding our deepest despairs from ourselves. This is a troubling reality, but it’s one reason why I decided this month’s theme should be “coping,” because it seems as if now we must cope with our coping mechanisms if that makes sense…
october: notice
It is much easier to divide our worldly existence between the times we suffer and the times we breathe easily, rather than accept a holistic view that work, politics, family, climate crisis, and all else co-exist with our moments of pleasure and ease.