I've been feeling the overwhelm lately. Sunday's terror attack in Orlando. Eco-anxiety. The small, mundane sadnesses that make up everyday life. There is intense suffering in the world and profound beauty. Vacillating between these dualities isn't an easy task for anyone of us to do.

In our interview with Grace Oedel of Dig In Farm, she shared that "I have times myself when I fully take in the sadness [...] and that can motivate me in a certain way. It's not the only truth. It's incredibly egotistical to claim to know what's coming when there is so much mystery and so much potential for change." I've been reflecting on her words a lot lately, on what it means to sink into the heart of the storm and create opportunities to heal, to nurture, to rewrite. 

We need to find ways to fortify our every day with a sense of power and love and purpose. Because in the face of so much tragedy in the world this week, treating ourselves and one another with tender compassion is a radical act. Going out and fighting fiercely for what we yearn for can mean mobilizing in the streets. It can mean organizing peaceful protests and political campaigns.

It can mean sharing a late-night loaf of bread with a friend in the light of the silver moon. 

It can mean curling onto the floor of the earth and watching the blue sky whirl. 

It can mean saying I am a little zen ice cream cookie sandwich and laughing at just how small of a speck of stardust you really are. 

Several months ago, I wrote about heart-healing work for The Shapes We Make, a holistic feminism site that I co-create with Lily Myers. Building a body of dynamic proof of what we can do to help heal fissures in the world empowers us to generate grief into good energy. And so I thought I would share a couple of ideas for gentle-loving acts of heart healing & earth healing & energy healing that we can bring into the world this very day. I hope you'll share with us at Loam your own ideas as well. We want to feel with you, love with you, work with you. 


It's okay to be heartbroken. Those moments of total collapse remind us we're nervy bodies alive with light and love. When you sit with the suffering—when you ugly cry, when you breathlessly vent—you can help to open up the channels for healing.


When I am feeling overwhelmed, I write down my dreams—for myself, for the world. And then I list one or two tangible steps that I can take to close the distance between floating hope and real action. And then I take those steps, no matter how hard, no matter how long, because there is a sense of joy and juiciness to be found in the fight.


It's easy when we are hurting to shut down. Porosity can be scary! Sharing the (silly) (splendid) love is a reliable remedy, however. You can love on the wild woods, on the feel of dirt on your bare toes. You can love on your friends, on those star-filled bodies who keep you alive and in thirst for the world. You can always choose love.




Kate WeinerComment