Beloved friends,
I've noticed a funny thing the last couple of weeks: I stopped feeling upset about the deluge of plundering and oppression raining down on the world right now. At first I was relieved; I thought that I was finding my footing, stabilizing. Springtime is a tremendous joy and I thought perhaps my efforts in healthful compartmentalization of the horrors and leaning into connection were bearing fruit. I began to notice that it wasn't just me, too – folks in all of the spaces I hold were seemed to be less distressed and the national situation was no longer being reported as an urgent crisis. Then, however, I realized that I'd stopped making calls and writing letters, stopped trying to fight, and without meaning to. That made me realize that something different was afoot, that this wasn't a positive change after all.
Adrienne Matei's piece on hypernormalization in The Guardian helped me see what was afoot. The headline reads, ""Systems are crumbling – but daily life continues. The dissonance is real: If everything feels broken but strangely normal, the Soviet-era concept of hypernormalization can help". It begins:
First articulated in 2005 by scholar Alexei Yurchak to describe the civilian experience in Soviet Russia, hypernormalization describes life in a society where two main things are happening.
The first is people seeing that governing systems and institutions are broken. And the second is that, for reasons including a lack of effective leadership and an inability to imagine how to disrupt the status quo, people carry on with their lives as normal despite systemic dysfunction – give or take a heavy load of fear, dread, denial and dissociation.
“What you are feeling is the disconnect between seeing that systems are failing, that things aren’t working … and yet the institutions and the people in power just are, like, ignoring it and pretending everything is going to go on the way that it has,” Harfoush says in her video.
This was so useful to understand. When I enquired of myself, I found myself holding thoughts like, "There is nothing I can do," and "The things I was doing didn't make any difference, so why distress myself about it?" I recognize this kind of thinking from the last time this man was president. These ideas can feel comforting because they take us off the hook. "There's nothing I can do! It wouldn't matter if I did more anyway! Might as well just turn away from the news and carry on, right?"
The thing is, I do not agree with these ideas! I recognize them as the voice of despair. Fortunately, I spent the winter working to educate and inspire myself out of that kind of despairing thinking by reading Hope in Dark with many of you. Thank you! I can see that I need a booster shot of the willingness to feel my horror so that I can continue to act in alignment with my values, which do not allow for sticking my head in the sand and waiting for the tidal wave of horror to crash on my shores when I can already see it drowning other people.
The line that struck me most deeply in this piece is:
“People don’t shut down because they don’t feel anything,” says Hickman. “They shut down because they feel too much.” Understanding this overwhelm is an important first step in resisting inaction – it helps us see fear as a trap.
I did several things just now: I ordered Rebecca Solnit's new book, "No Straight Road Takes You There: Essays for Uneven Terrain." I actually bought two: the paper book for me and the ebook for James. I warmly invite you to read it, too. Next I followed Jess Craven of the great Chop Wood, Carry Water activism newsletter on Resisbot so that I can use Resistbot to send her excellent letters to my representatives. Then I set an alarm for this evening so that I can get back on the horse of calling my representatives after business hours when voicemail makes that simpler. Finally, I shared all of this with some friends – that's you! – so that I can have company and accountability.
I refuse to sleepwalk through this time. I aim to stay wide awake. I hope you will, too, beloved friends. Thanks to Winnie
Resources
Inner Guidance
When I was preparing for my first surgery, a guided imagery practice by Belleruth Naparstek was deeply beloved by me. I found it free online recently to share with someone undergoing surgery – there is one for stress relief, too! Belleruth has an unusual voice which I rapidly came to associate with the wonderful calm her work helped me foster. I hope it might be useful for you, dear. If we are to turn toward the pain, we need tools to help us. The very mainstream Johns Hopkins notes that guided imagery has been proven in research to "manage anxiety, stress, and depression, help reduce pain, lower blood pressure, lessen nausea, and give you a better sense of control and well-being".
Curious Breathing
Slow breathing is another well-researched tool for soothing the body and mind. In my classes lately I've been encouraging slow, deep breathing with the name, "curious breathing". Folks often follow the more = better path in breathwork and, when asked to deepen the breath, lean into it until they feel urgency, which is counterproductive. Curious Breathing has been an effective and pleasing frame for helping people to stay present, gentle, and avoid excessive rigidity and over-control. How long could you really comfortably inhale? How long might you truly comfortably exhale?
Our Fine Feathered Friends
The charming very wee robins being fed in the top photo today are nesting above my neighbor and sister-on-the-mat Susea's back door. I found myself returning again and again to this image for tenderness and hope, and I hope it brings a little of these things to you. I've been working on improving my ability to recognize birds by their calls so that I can hear who I am sharing space with. I'm not at all good at it yet and still find it deeply rewarding. Novelist Amy Tan has fallen in love with birds, too, and her newest book, The Backyard Bird Chronicles, explores this. It's filled with sweet, lovely drawings that are her own work, and her usual wise way with observation and empathy. I haven't gotten my hands on a copy yet as I've been focusing my book budget on nonfiction, but it's a smash bestseller, #1 on the NY Times. Thanks to Lizzy
Children's Yoga in SF with Jessie Woletz
My friend Jessie is teaching this summer and I asked for details to share. She says:
I'm teaching public kids yoga classes Tuesdays (4pm & 5pm), at a beautiful preschool in the Mission District of SF called KMS, starting in June. I would love to see you and your kids there! 4-4:45pm is a Kids Only class (ages 4.5-11) that has spaces open, and 5-5:45 (ages 3-12 plus parents) has a waiting list (still helps to have sign-ups, & shows interest for future classes).
Sign-Up Here: https://www.kmsofsf.org/yoga
Thanks, Jessie! She's also exploring sites for possible after school classes in the fall. You can reach her at seaweedsway.yoga@gmail.com to discuss.
Resistance
Jamila Bradley's voice is new to me and this first piece of hers makes my heart sing. When she speaks about "movement work" here she is referring to the movement towards liberation for all people.
"I’ve been toying around with an idea—thinking about what it means to approach movement work not just from a place of resistance or critique, but from a place of reverence, ritual, and joy. What it means to orient toward life. Toward safety, healing, and spirit. Toward thriving, not just surviving."
Jamila goes on to share numerous examples of the role of spirit in revolutionary movements across the world; also, a clear critique of the lack of this in white leftist culture. I hope that you will consider giving her fine voice your attention and that it encourages you to both fight and dance toward revolution, darling. If you are white and up for some real talk, the comments are intense, thoughtful, and a good place to learn.
"Ritual is not a detour from material struggle. It is the technology we use to stay human in the face of systems that want to grind us down. It is how we metabolize grief and build courage. It is how we return to one another, again and again, across borders, across generations, across lifetimes."
Jamila Bradley
Feeding the teacher
If you'd like to consider being a paying subscriber to this newsletter, I'd be grateful for your support of my work here. You can also make a one-time donation of thanks here. If you are a reader of paper books, anything you buy on Bookshop pays me 10% if you enter the site via my Bookshop. Sharing my newsletter with a friend to spread my work is useful, too! Thank you for your support.