When the Earth Shakes, What Still Matters?

I wrestled today about whether to continue sharing thoughts on fundraising… or whether to address the upheaval that is now shaking us – hard – like a once-in-a century earthquake.

I chose the latter, because I know there’s medicine here that we need.

With our legs like rubber and our hearts in our throats, we wonder “when will it stop?” and the hard, horrible truth is that nobody knows.

We just have to hang on as best we can. Hang on to our hearts, our values, our loved ones. And show up as we are each uniquely called.  

This passage from Molly Remer’s beautiful book, Return: The Sacred Art of Coming Home to Yourself, puts it better than I ever could. It feels like balm to my soul right now:  

I know it can feel hard to stay hopeful as communities burn and winds howl and tides rise and the world shakes, and, yet, the life practice is to return, to start where your feet are, to commit to holding on and showing up. We cannot save everything or do everything, and yet we are here, which means there is good to gather and good to be done. We are our own proof of the holy, the sacred alive within us right now. We have nothing to prove and nothing to earn.

And, so we pause, we open our eyes, we open our hearts, we open our hands. We offer what we can offer. We share what we can share. We create what we can create. We do what we can do. We remember that one of the most radical acts of all is to pay attention, to refuse to be hijacked by despair and disregard, but to reach out anyway, to persist in carefully and lovingly tending to our own part of the web.

This passage soothes the hair-on-fire part of me that’s running around in a panic and shouting, “How can you possibly work on ____ at a time like this?”

And of course you can fill in the blank with any of the work I’ve chosen in this world: shaping donor outreach, coaching leaders, taking my girls to school.

These pieces of my work are holy. They are ordinary. They are necessary.  

My daughter needs reassurance at drop-off. Young leaders in Richmond need funds for a new community center. And the ED I’m coaching needs to hear me say “I see you. You’re holding so much.”

There can be a sense that we MUST drop everything we’re doing RIGHT NOW and that we must all resist MORE or in the RIGHT WAYS. I understand why this feeling of pressure crops up. There is a lot at stake.

But I’ve found that this sense of pressure can be immobilizing.

What gets me into action instead? Warmth. Community. Kindness. A simple invitation.

Last week I received an invitation from a fellow coach to come to a “Democracy Hour” – an hour where folks could come together, settle into the now, and get into action by calling our representatives and making donations.

Tears streamed down my face as I left a voice message for my senator. It was such a relief to be in the company of people who care. To take action together and to have permission to do this work imperfectly.

I cannot know whether these actions enact real change in the world around me.

But what I do know is that this gathering renewed my sense of hope. Created a home for my grief. Resourced me in a way I can’t quite describe.

I feel inspired now to host a gathering of my own – not to make donations or calls – but simply to be together in this moment, acknowledging that it’s hard to be human right now.

Right now, the world needs us and we need each other. Because, as Thich Nhat Hanh shared:

This, my dear

is the greatest challenge

to being alive.

To witness injustice in the world

and not allow it to consume our light.

May we each lovingly tend to our light.