On Living with Heart in a Heartless Time

Over the past few weeks, as the din of unthinkable headlines becomes incessant, as we bear witness to functioning national systems being stripped and gutted and defenders being demonized, as the realization of short-term and long-term fallout takes shape and the question is asked again and again — why isn’t somebody doing something!? — I am beginning to understand the silence of “good Germans” in the early 1930s. When a tsunami has crashed over the nerve-center of the nation and everything you know is tumbling in the spin — when assaults on fundamental human decency are coming from all sides — where to find your feet, where to catch your breath?

The impulse to duck and cover, shutting down — “I can’t do anything about this, so I just won’t think about it” — may seem like the only sane answer. Shutting out the negative energy, focusing on work, family, taking care of shoring up supplies, doing home repairs, tuning out the news, closing the doors to your wounded, scarred, breaking heart.

But the truth is — whether we admit it or not — in our infinitely interconnected world, all our hearts are breaking. The collective scream of anguish from the first ones to suffer, never mind the material impact of their losses, hangs in our collective consciousness just as much as a toxic cloud from a chemical plant would hang in the air. Whether we remain conscious or choose the oblivion of distractions, or worse, harden our hearts in self-righteousness or would-be superiority, we cannot avoid it.

So the only question becomes – what to do about it? How to remain human and not be crushed by grief?

Toxic masculinity claims empathy and grief are weakness – or worse, sin (negating the Gospel verse “Jesus wept,” I suppose), but studies show that hardening the heart in ungrieved grief can injure the body and mind with anxiety and depression, illness and addiction, all the way to death… never mind impaired productivity. 

But how to access locked-up grief? Meditation, Mindfulness-Based Stress Relief, forest bathing, breathwork, yoga, art therapy, singing or drumming, and acupuncture or Reiki can all open doors to deeply held feelings.

It’s tempting to lock in on these healing practices, feeling we can’t be of use to the world till our own issues are resolved. Truth is, however, that we need meaningful work – a way to use our skills and knowledge to make a difference in something bigger than ourselves.

But when the world is changing moment by moment and all of the issues demand urgent action, what can you do?

The reflexive answers – stay informed, write to legislators, widen the bandwidth for good media sources – we all know this is critical. And it can be overwhelming: where to begin when it’s all desperately urgent? So, set limits. 

• To set a good tone for the day and be able to sleep at night, set boundaries for media consumption – X amount of time at X time of day. Set a wake-up buffer time before engaging with media; set a screen curfew to protect your sleep.
• Identify just one greater issue to focus on, and do it well. Then, from X time to X time each day, do the research and contact legislators and the media about that issue. When you’re finished, put it aside.
• Identify what you are able to do: if you don’t have the physical or psychological strength for a protest march, can you provide transportation, pet-sitting, bag lunches, or legal advocacy for the people who do march? Not everyone is able to engage in direct protest, but all forms of engagement matter.
• Find your people, and connect there. Starhawk explains how to do this HERE. 
• Get to know your neighbors (if safe): how can you come together in mutual support? Community gardens, skill sharing, a tool library? What skills do you have to share? What do you need from others?

Often, as I read the news and notice how the issues of almost a century ago seem to be replaying, I think of my parents and grandparents, and how they navigated these times when the world seemed to be splintering. As I begin each day, I light a candle at my ancestor altar and ask for their wisdom and guidance in staying grounded, doing what must be done. 

Memories of their stories arise: planting Victory gardens; foraging and seed-sharing; joining with neighbors to share skills and tools; creating social events over mundane tasks like quilting; singing together; pitching in to help with home repairs or community projects. How matter-of-fact they were about finding ingenious solutions in a time when human connection made up for material scarcity. 

Were those days perfect? Far from it. But I see the wisdom of those stories returning to be taught in these times. Maybe in the chaos of these days we can re-ground in what is essential, learn to appreciate what is local, and lift our heads from our ever-present screens to reconnect with one another in mutual support.