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| In Bloom Catherine Al-Meten Meyers |
Fear brought about by unforeseen circumstances or conditions. Fear that arises when our lives are turned upside down. This can happen when we get off track, but it can also occur when what is going on around us interferes or disrupt our lives. Illness, accidents, or deaths are some of the major events that cause our lives to shift dramatically. Conflicts of interest also play a key role in how we use our time and manage to balance our obligations, plans, or desires. Occasionally something occurs in the world itself that shakes things up in our lives. Depending on where we live, we may get caught up in natural disasters (earthquakes, floods, tsunamis, droughts, hurricanes, and the like). Political events can also shake us up. Think back on those moments when a life-changing event occurred that caught you by surprise.
When I do reflect on major events, I think of President Kennedy's assassination, the landing on the Moon, Robert Kennedy and Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King's assassinations, the invasion of Kuwait, and the tragedy of September 11. We live in a time of turmoil and tumult. Earlier in my life I would have said we were headed for peace, but time has shown that we humans are capable of maintaining an extended love affair with war, oppression, and all that they bring on. My own graduate work involved exploring the ongoing effects of trauma caused by war and oppression as it affects one generation after another. My focus at first was on refugees, immigrants, asylees, and those affected by war, terrorism, and violence. I went further on to unmask the intergenerational trauma that is passed on through the ongoing trauma experienced by the First Nations peoples throughout the United States. After years of listening to people talk about their experiences, I came to the conclusion that we are all a part of this ongoing narrative.
The reason I'm writing this essay today is because it is impossible not to recognize the heightened level of fear in our lives. Not only in our country, but also around the world. Not only in my life, but also in the lives of just about everyone I know. For those who seem unaffected, I can only imagine the level of numbing or detachment that has to be going on to ignore the very clear and present danger that faces us at this turning point in our history. And we writers are in a very precarious position. If you are a journalist or a part of the media, you understand the attack on not only our ability to write about what we observe and learn, but also about our right to express our ideas. In many cases, writers have been murdered, imprisoned, or censored for doing what they do--writing.
Growing up my Mother explained to me what the adage, "The pen is mightier than the sword" meant. In fact it was part of a debate that took place when I was in elementary school, and it fascinated me at the time, a time when I was quite naive and unaware of just how that debate would play out in my own life, and the lives of those of us who are living through this period of time. Words hold power, the power to shape our thinking, to reveal truths and lies, and to unmask or cover up what might otherwise be hidden. Language, and our ability to use it, can be an instrument of good, or one of evil. As the old Deuteronomist said (Deut. 30) "I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life so that you and your descendents may live."
No small feat to choose life especially when you feel threatened, oppressed, or fearful for your life and the lives of those you love. We have within our capacity though the power to discern what is life-giving and what is not. And we writers understand that even when we have been weighed down with fearful thoughts or oppressive demands and obligations, writing helps us find a way to the surface into the light and thus, into life. When conditions overwhelm or cause us to fall to the ground in pain, exhaustion, or when we feel beaten down and dismissed to the point where we wonder if we can hang on another day, we know from experience, we can survive what we might have thought impossible. We know this because we are here in this moment. We have come through the storms. We have woken up from the deep sleeps and trances of our own illusions or of the abuse and destruction that has caused our lives to be torn apart. We have done more than survive--we have persisted, gotten back on our feet, and moved forward despite all odds. Each of us has done this in our own way.
And I am betting, we've each done it despite being afraid. If we wait to try again until it's safe, we might never move again. Overcoming fear has nothing to do with being guaranteed that nothing will ever cause us to fear again. It has everything to do with facing the darkness, looking at what we fear, and taking action anyway. Facing our fears is one of the best writing practices as well as spiritual practices. Make a list of what you're afraid of, and then begin chipping away at that list. For example, if I'm afraid to try writing a short story, I might begin by writing out a simple outline of the story. Start with a piece of the whole, and "do it in littles." Next, spend some time with a character sketch of one of your fictional characters. Practice freeing up your imagination to explore your characters, settings, or maybe potential conversations and conflicts between two characters. And finally, simply start writing trusting that something will come out of putting words down Ray Bradbury suggested writing a short story a day for a year. His thought was that at least a few of them will be good. Not doing anything only invites lethargy and creates more fear. Doing one small thing a day that you fear is a good practice for all of us, writers included.
How this figures into my need to look at fear today, is related to how debilitating it has been to be caught up in the tension, chaos, and frankly unbelievably tragic events of the last month or so. Feeling such compassion and empathy for so many people targeted by the massive changes being made, and feeling personally threatened by those changes, it has been more and more difficult to get focused and to write. And as events unfold, my determination to have a positive impact through my writing, has been a reminder of the work that remains to be completed. Work on how we have coped with ongoing trauma, wars, stress, and identity destruction. Work that focuses on how we have been affected, how we have survived and continued on despite ongoing oppression. How do we understand and heed the call for intergenerational healing in light of current events? How do we break apart the illusions of what should be and face what is, so that we can meet the need for healing and reconciliation?
The questions and events that are occurring on a massive, widespread scale, are too much for any one person to comprehend and digest thoroughly. It's beyond our capacity to cope. As a trauma therapist said to me years ago during another war, "We're trying to deal with an impossible situation as best we can. What is required is a day by day, moment by moment attempt to remain mindfully present to something that we can handle." His suggestions at the time seemed frivolous to me, but his advice was what helped sustain me, and still does. When life is overwhelming, we lose focus. The best way to cope with that is to intentionally to take some very basic, tactile, concrete steps.
Yesterday, I was in a state of feeling overwhelmed and sliding into despair. I sat before my keyboard and held onto my pen and notebook, and started writing about what I was feeling...not for public consumption but so I could get my feelings and thoughts out. That's what writers do. Writers need to do other things, because otherwise writing becomes stale or blocked, or routine. On a day that had every type of weather going on except extreme heat, I picked a break in the clouds to head out for a walk. Walking along the river is healing, and given my compassion for and connection with the Water Protectors who are under attack, I felt the river was where I needed to be. The only person on the walk, I first met a beautiful blue heron who was standing in the shallows along the bank. Heron flew down the river perhaps searching for a fishing spot, I don't know. Heron disappeared.
Walking on I looked down at the rocks and saw something curled up. Looking closer I could see the arrow-shaped head of a beautiful, tiny black and gold snake. Snake was basking in the sunlight, and reminded me that we too can cling out from the darkness where our souls get trapped. We need the light. We need the Sun. We need the movement from one place to another, from one moment to the next. We need these things because we need to feel the continuity of life...to experience the ongoing, life-affirming, life-giving experience of being alive. Snake symbolized for me, that continuity, that knowledge that life goes on and we must use our one precious life to help heal. Heal ourselves and help be a healing link for others. We need to find meaning in our work. And then I recall with the promise of life, the words that first struck me from Victor Frankl. We must each keep looking for something of meaning, some light, some reason to find the beauty of life, even in our darkest hours.
And these are by no means the darkest hours, as rough as they seem. However, in our darkest hours, we humans have been tested. We individuals have learned how to rise up and carry on. We have been given great gifts, and we must use them. When we falter or fall, when we are without light or energy, we must find that divine spark within us, the one thought or desire or dream or hope that helps us light up the day or the night. Writing is for me and other writers, one of the ways we remain connected to our life force. Find whatever it is that you find threatening, that makes you feel afraid or hopeless or angry, and find another small action to take to get yourself moving again. Move from that which dulls your thinking or overwhelms you with a sense of frustration, and do something simple that can be done. And then another.
One person I like listening to, is the ancient philosopher and statesman, Marcus Aurelius. His counsel on fear is beautiful:
'If you are distressed by anything external,
the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it;
and this you have the power to revoke at any moment.'
My Daughter gave me a small, framed poster years ago, at a time I was struggling to handle a multitude of obligations and fulfill my dream of being a writer. I will share that with you today because if anyone knew about overcoming obstacles, it had to have been Eleanor Roosevelt. "A woman is like a teabag. You never know how strong it is until its in hot water."
She also said, "Do something every day that scares you." And it doesn't have to be a major thing. Just begin facing some of the little fears that stop you in your tracks. Inch your way toward something that you think you cannot do, one little step at a time. And never underestimate the power of making an attempt even when you most feel like pulling the covers up over your head sometimes. Get your rest, take good care of yourself, and keep on keeping on. You can do it. We all can do it. And we must. We're here to live this life, to choose life, in each and every moment.
As I reflect on fear today, I remember that our fears arise because we feel something of great value to us is in danger. Our fears point us in the direction of that which gives us life. What are we afraid of, and how can we use that fear to find our way into the Light?
