"Take a deep breath" is not the best advice when the house is on fire
Maybe dousing it should be job one
I begin with apologies for the slightly inflammatory (ha) headline. Hey, if it bleeds it leads, right?
Of course you should take deep breaths. Of course, if it fills your tank, you should meditate. Of course you should engage in every kind of self-care that is available and personally helpful. And affordable.
What I have recently come to understand, however, is that the frequently-exhorted concept of self-care will not dig us out of dire situations beyond our control. We need it more and more because our world is taking care of us less and less.
Action is required. Not a cold compress.
Then a couple of days ago, I read the brilliant work above by Kirsten Powers (four months late, but there it is). Evaluation of the political, institutional and economic situation in the United States I leave entirely to her; it is not my country and she is the expert.
Those comments chimed with me, though. I watch U.S. politics quite closely, with a mixture of terror, trepidation and faint, fading hope.
But her points about burnout — in a world that seems to be increasingly going mad — brought something of an epiphany over here. I am not alone. Others are having trouble breathing too.
“Self-care,” she argues, “is late-stage capitalism’s solution to the problem it created.”
I should insert here that I am not anti-capitalism. But she is right about late-stage capitalism, in which the religion of the almighty dollar has contributed to the obliteration of the potential of living well for far too many people. Just read the piece.
Cementing her point was a quote she included from another brilliant soul, which in itself is perfect but can also be applied macrocosmically.
“You can’t meditate your way out of a 40-hour-workweek with no childcare,” said Pooja Lakshmin MD. Boom.
No. You can’t. And / but, this is not just happening in the United States.
Breathing deeply, the cheapest form of self-care (four in, pause, four out, repeat), is lovely but it’s not going to fix poverty. Or lousy health care. Or climate change. (Indeed, beware of what you’re breathing in.) Or prevent dictatorships in the making. Or topple those now existing. Or end wars.
It may help you cope with all that, assuming you are somewhere relatively safe; and if you’re that sort of person, good on you. I mean it. I wish I was. Coping is crucial, but it won’t fix anything. So please, stop telling me to calm down. I can’t, for one thing; and also, I am quite sure I shouldn’t.
And this is where my brain goes wildly off in all directions. Why am I writing this post? What am I advocating for? Where does one even start?
***
Over drinks on Friday, with a particular group of friends that usually chats about kids and the latest play and the art exhibit at the local gallery and our other friends, the rapidly-shifting conversation rolled out more like this.
Donald Trump / Benjamin Netanyahu / the Gaza Strip / bloody awful Putin / how some in our circle had shifted from (relatively gentle) conservatism to social democratism because the world is a mess / right-wing politics are moving into our country / what the hell is going on?
More than several people have told me they feel a sense of doom, and it’s permeating their lives, their moods, their sleepless nights.
Can you breathe through that?
Allegory, ish: I was prescribed an opiod, name of Tramadol (which I mentally renamed Traumadol), for a particularly severe arthritis flare. It would fix the pain and put me to sleep, I was told — that second bit added because insomnia is a big issue with pain.
I was extremely hesitant to try it, and it took me two weeks to get around to it. Finally, I capitulated and swallowed the damn pill.
I did not sleep — at all. I did not experience pain relief. What I did experience was agitation, nausea, paranoia, and intense exhaustion . . . among maybe eight other very enjoyable side effects.
Can you breathe throught that? Chemically-induced misery bordering on madness? Not to mention wanting to puke for five hours?
I tried. I really did. But it was impossible. This is not working.
My point? I would prefer to solve or at least alleviate the problem than either bomb it into oblivion (which didn’t work anyway) or ignore it.
***
There are millions of people around the globe who, I guarantee, are not breathing deeply at all.
How can you breathe when you know another drone strike is coming . . . and you don’t know when? How can you breathe when your entire city has been flattened and your family is literally starving? How can you breathe when you see children injured beyond recognition or dead? How can you breathe when a dearly loved family member is being held hostage? How can you breathe when a mudslide is hurtling toward your home?
How can you breathe when the world is on fire?
Are the flames headed your way?
***
So I am, actively, considering what action may look like.
Your mileage may vary.
Vote. For the love of God, vote. If indeed you are allowed to. But truly know what you are voting for . . . or against. (See point 4.)
Give. If you can. To the charity of your choice, local or otherwise; to those trying to feed people in war zones; to doctors trying to save lives.
Write. While Powers may be moving away from the United States, actively pursuing her own peace, she will still contribute to sane awareness. Be a Powers. Use good and illuminating words.
Read. Everything. But particularly independent media; you know, the kind that actually engages in real journalism. It’s still out there, even if it has been drastically reduced by the impact of preaching to the perverted and the online giants.
Object. If it’s wrong, say so.
Love. Your family, your community, your country, your Earth. Actions emerging from love will always, ah, trump those emerging from hate.
It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got right now.
As a close and far more succinct friend who helped me with this said, we’re sleepwalking through a lost world. I should have just said that. Thank you, Eileen.
As another dear and helpful friend said: Be a voice for those without one, get involved, or we will be the victims of our own choices. Thank you, Wendy Bayne.
Now that I’ve delivered this rambling and depressing screed, may I add:
Breathe . . . whenever possible. But let’s put out the fire too.
Joanne you brought me to tears with this post becasue every single word was the truth.
After we spoke yesterday I remembered a line from a movie "Your silence is implied consent."
Do not be silent. Do not let some else assume your silence is approval of their actions.