This new presidency is making many of us lefties with the big feelings literally sick. At least me and many of my friends are low-level nauseated much of the time, and if we're plugged into the news, several times a day this swells into deep, full-body disgust. With some heart-racing anxiety and fear, intermittent rage flashes, consistent outrage headaches, potent muscle exhaustion, and a hope/despair head-swirl in the mix. Even many of the less delicate of our ilk are constantly swaying a little bit. Research shows we’re not alone—a Southern Poverty Law study found Trump anxiety is spiking in schoolkids.
Of course today and in these coming weeks and months, we'll also experience beauty, pleasure, and joy from things that don't fill us with the panic and existential dread that's becoming so familiar in this semi-apocalyptic news flood. (As Starlee Kine tweeted the other day: "Jesus you miss one day's worth of news and you're Luke returning home to his aunt and uncle on Tatooine.")
In the days ahead, small children will be adorable and innocently wise. We'll have personal triumphs—raises, breakthroughs, growth. And of course there are the ocean, clouds, trees, forests, deserts, and cute baby animals. We'll remember, maybe, that wallabies exist. As do puppies. And baby goats. And their cashmere. People will eat mangos and chocolate croissants, make mind-blowing art, fall in love, remember god, be stroked by their beloved.
We still live in a world with puppies.
Hell, last week I just found out that I'm still cancer-free. And this morning I had a delicious vegan muffin (not an oxymoron!).
Also, as we have seen in full, pussy-hatted, international, lady-loving glory, people will gather in community and join forces, begin to gel the resistance in the movement of many of our lives. We will learn what standing up to bullies in mega-power really means.
And, yet. There's the internal, somatic rollercoaster caused by being looped into cray current events. Which, to recap, are 1) Tens of millions of people decided that hatred of women, Muslims, black people, the disabled, LGBTQ people, and more didn't matter. They voted for a lying, sociopathic narcissist. And 2) Who turns out to very likely be in the pocket of a virtual dictator. NBD. Who is going about taking apart our democracy one cabinet position and executive order at a time. Who is exploiting our dividedness and our already flawed, unjust system and beliefs for his own enrichment and ego. And 3) Is now lying even more bigly about fact-negative voter fraud; issuing orders regarding immigrants that would make our ancestors weep; doing his best to null the first amendment; and is stomping over our international relations and an entire religion, all while tweeting literally, scarily, regularly, verbatim from TV news. But you know this. And here we are.
We marched. Now we gather, we write, we call, we reach out to those most vulnerable. We shore up the resistance. We learn what resistance means.
We work on getting more Democratic women elected—especially more women of color. We chip away at the patriarchy outside and within in ways small and large. We support immigrants in our community. We support people of color as the emboldened racists emerge from those hidey-holes. We will make art from this. We will write and speak. And march some more.
And through this, we also need to stay centered, to rest, to breathe, to have fun and welcome softness and light. Because remember--kids and puppies aren't going anywhere.
How do we do this, exactly? As a long-time yoga practitioner and wellness journalist who has an admittedly delicate, trauma-seasoned nervous system (but is also from 1970s and 80s NYC, yo), I have some reminders:
- We meditate—daily, if possible. It's the best tool I know for staying calm within chaos—as Buddhist teacher Pema Chödrön writes, "You are the sky, everything else… it's just the weather." Be the sky in the storm. This free meditation app is great for timing your sessions.
- We tend to our bodies in part because we don't want toxic politics to live in our cells. We exhale POTUS, and we inhale peace.
- We monitor our moods. Our anxiety and worry serve no one unless they are hitched to action. Even then, action from calm determination is more powerful. Watch the caffeine, the sugar and do what calms you: exercise, getting into nature, seeing friends face-to-face, heart-to-heart.
- We find ways to serve in our communities. What's your skill or wisdom that you have to offer right now? What way of helping tugs on your attention? Who is suffering or might suffer near you? When my friend Dara was sick my friend Keith said: Do one thing a week for her. That gave me a game plan and made it much less overwhelming. What's one thing a week we can do to create peace, justice, and the rights of all, including those baby animals? We also have a planet to protect. No pressure. I've signed up for these daily action alerts to keep me focused and action-oriented.
- We create. This is going to be a new era for art. Get that juju out of you and onto the page or the canvas or the stage.
- We avoid what shrinks call "catastophizing." Yes, it seems like all of our values and policies are being fed into a patriarchal, jingoist wood chipper, but things are perhaps more OK in this actual moment than your anxiety is letting you see. By staying anchored to our center, we cleave to the truth, which is that most of us have food, love, a home, a peaceful place to be. Let that truth and safety resonate so you may stably reach out to those for whom that is not true.
- We share our essence—because that is you at your most potent. Who are you? Tell us with words and actions. We need your authentic self activated now. As Howard Thurman said, "Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
- We counter fear with inspired action. Audre Lorde wrote, "When I dare to be powerful—to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid."
- We check out as needed. We watch stupid, funny shit, we forget a little. We enjoy our lives because they don't get to have them. In this context, our joy is defiance (and it sure as hell isn't present in the president). Rebecca Solnit writes: "Joy doesn't betray, but sustains activism. And when you face a politics that aspires to make you fearful, alienated, and isolated, joy is a fine act of insurrection.”
- We pray. Not because it necessarily changes outcomes, but because it changes us. It sets our vibe to a holier, higher, cleaner radio station. And so you know I'm a half Jew who prays to Mary and angels and divine love! So my feeling is whatever works for you, so long it is something you can lean into and trust that reminds you of the lovingest kind of love.
- We are kind. As the bumper sticker says, kinder than necessary. This smoothes some of the jagged edges of everyday life. If it helps, remember that quote from some now-ancient Greek man that everyone is fighting a hard battle.
- We are allies. Read the stuff about how to be an ally if you see someone harassed. Understand right now that immigrants especially are unsettled. Muslims too. Be brave, do not escalate, speak up.
- We stay hopeful. We don't muddle in the muck for too long. We continually bring ourselves out and into the light.
- We monitor our media consumption. We need you strong. And if your level of news consumption is disabling your energy, ramp it down.
- We stay informed. In healthy, conscious ways. We don't get distracted by that Twitter feed. We stay aware of what's really happening, at whatever interval is appropriate for your particular nervous system.
- We get off our devices and see people.
- We remember two things: bad guys and gals fall eventually. It will happen. And: he did not win the popular vote. By a lot.
- We not only make the negative calls to our representatives and companies and publications and celebrities. We celebrate and congratulate and thank those who do the right thing--who support the disenfranchised, who stand up for our rights, who refuse to be cowed or threatened, who demonstrate inclusivity. In fact, if that's all some of us do, that's enough.
- We stay inspired. By thought leaders publishing things that ring your bell. But also by beauty—poetry, art, music, whatever lifts your soul higher. And we support those makers of inspiration with our attention and our dollar bills.
- We donate what we can to organizations we believe in. We shop at companies that align with our values.
- We are aware of what gaslighting is and do our best not to get confused by it. It's a manipulation tactic used by abusers. As an empathetic, trusting person it can be very disorienting to hear and see something and then be informed that we did not see or hear that—and be called nuts for thinking we did. Stay on point with your breathing, your self-nurturing, your center. Shake off the static.
- When encountering those who voted for this, we listen. This is my hardest thing. We don't change minds and hearts by talking over others. We need to hear each other's stories. What got us to this place. And find something like common ground. We use active listening skills. We don't have to win points. We don't have to shore up arguments. We listen, truly, and ask questions. And learn.
- We celebrate. We dance, we sing, we laugh, we gather, we play-we magnify our joy. Because it's there, along with the kids and the puppies and the wallabies. And it will get us through. This is still your one, wild, precious life, as Mary Oliver calls it. Enjoy it.
- We study. We learn from history/herstory. We are not original. Versions of this have happened before. We learn from our ancestors. We see what's relevant for today.
- We rest. Because we need it.
- We love.
And we do our best. Because it's enough, somehow, truly.
Peace be with us all.