I am sitting outside, on my deck, looking at the garden at my feet⎼ red begonias, lavender impatiens, white zinnias and other flowers. It’s early morning. Last night there was, finally, a good rain. And although the sky is relatively clear and the sun is out, the air is beautifully cool. There is a sense in the air, or in me, that all this is fast disappearing. That I need to dig down deep into this moment before it, and all these flowers, are gone.
Part of this feeling is because it is the last week of August and summer is nearing its end. After teaching for 30 years, and going to school for nearly 20, August often feels like it’s a slide into autumn, into school and work with winter to follow.
This is especially true this year. Due to the pandemic, I have so much more unscheduled time, and so much time is absorbed by news reports and worries about the future. When will the pandemic end? Will there be a second wave? What new atrocities will DT commit? Will we have a constitution after November? With the election in front of us, the end of summer is fraught with so much more anxiety. And if we’re not observant, it could vacuum up all our attention.
Living through DT and the coronavirus in the spring, summer and even the fall, when we can be outside much of the time, is one thing. Doing it in winter will be much more difficult.
And how do we or our children face going back to school? There are just too many unknowns. Too many dangers. And whatever is decided about how school will look at the end of August or in September, could all change quickly and dramatically, as it did last spring. School used to be a stable part of our culture. No more. Very little of what used to provide stability and clarity can do that now.
So, how do we find a sense of stability and clarity during the time of the pandemic, or when everything inside us cries for, or dreads, dramatic change? When we can’t wait any longer for an end to the pandemics of the coronavirus and racism. When we want justice, now. When we want leaders who will put the needs of the nation and we, the people, first. No half measures are acceptable. We want so much because things are so bad and so little is predictable.
We might want Medicare for All. But right now 25 million Americans are at risk of losing their health care coverage during a pandemic. And DT and the GOP are trying to undermine us even further by eliminating not only the health care protections offered by the ACA but Medicare and Medicaid. As of today, 173,000 people have died from COVID-19 and a good number of those deaths could have been prevented if the federal government had responded with honesty, compassion, and competence fueled by the latest scientific information. But instead, we were traumatized by malignant incompetence.
Even our right to vote is endangered now. DT appears to be aiming for one-man, one party rule. If he wins the election or is allowed to interfere in it, we won’t be fighting to create a real worker’s, green, or progressive party, as some of us desire. We might be fighting for our lives⎼ and we will be fighting to preserve any rights under the law. We need to stop the bleeding and deaths so we can live to create change. And there is only one candidate in the ring who stands a chance of doing that, with our help⎼ and that is Joe Biden.
We must be careful that in our anxiety or anger we don’t miss the real possibilities that are in front of us to actually create the future we need. So much is at stake.
Dramatic changes usually start with simple ones. When I was young and had just returned from the Peace Corps, I wanted to find a job that would be creative, help change the world, while paying for my food, lodging and other needs. I wanted the perfect job and couldn’t accept anything less. In my frenzied rush to the future, I missed the opportunities that presented themselves to actually take the initial steps on the path to that future.
It is the same in mindfulness practice. We might desire and expect dramatic insights or experiences or at least personal peace when we practice so we miss the feel of the wind on our face as we inhale, the sense of our shoulders relaxing as we exhale, or the sound of crickets outside letting us know we are safe and no danger is near.
Maybe we can find ways to work both on social-political issues and to find stability and clarity inside ourselves. By taking action, we show ourselves that we have the autonomy and strength to do so. We face our anxiety over the future by working now to create the future we need.
We might sign up as a poll official or watcher or send letters or make calls to get out the vote. Or we might call or picket Congress to demand the next Pandemic Relief Bill will include not only comprehensive relief for those who get sick or have lost their jobs but funding for the Postal Service so our votes, medicines and mail will be delivered. We demand the election is protected from Russian interference. And we must vote.
All these actions are relatively small. But collectively, they can have a huge effect. We have the numbers if we join together as we did in 2018.
By feeling our feet on the floor as we sit or how our body inhales⎼ or we stand up, close our eyes and raise our hands up parallel to the ground as we inhale, feeling the temperature of the air on the back of our hands as we do so. And then we press down, feeling the air pass under our palms as we exhale⎼ and suddenly we are right here in our lives. We are present. Alive. We feel good and powerful enough to take action. And the future we dread is replaced with a present we can handle.
**If you’d like to practice mindfulness, or take action, please click on any of the links provided.
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