It’s late springtime in New York City, and these Lenape lands are blooming. From birdsong to blossoms, Easter to Eid, and Nowruz to Navami, this season has been synonymous with the sacred for a long time. It is ribboned with ritual, (re)birth, and recalibration. At the same time, we have witnessed a striking contrast from the spring equinox to a total solar eclipse, followed by unexpected earthquakes in New York. We are still experiencing violence at mass scale in many places, from Palestine, Sudan, Congo, Haiti, Ukraine to the United States, here in the empire of democracy. The volatility of this time is visible and visceral.
I have been thinking about all of you, all of us, humans on the planet at this time. Some of us are helping, building, creating, healing, organizing, fighting for what we believe is right and just. Some of us are inspired, activated, motivated, passionate, and even joyful. Some of us are overwhelmed, grieving, ill, depressed, despairing, or supporting others who are. Some of us are freezing, avoiding, escaping, numb, angry, or exhausted. Wherever you are and however you feel, it makes sense. I witness a lot of people struggling to accept how they feel — whether they feel grief or joy — or struggling to feel at all. But there is a very good reason, embedded in your lived experiences, for how you are feeling and responding at any given moment. I hope you can begin to get curious about what that reason is, while being compassionate with yourself.
I say that because I too have been riding these waves of overwhelm, sadness, and despair. I too have felt myself sink, wondering if I would drown. I’m not sure if it was the angle of the sunlight that day, or the warmth of a hug tight enough to hold my hurting heart, but one day I found myself ashore. This is not the first time, and I imagine it won’t be the last. When I felt the shift within me from despair to hope, it happened unexpectedly, for no particular reason or action, just a synchronicity of events. None of us are static, we are all seasonal. Your season could shift from hellish to hopeful in a heartbeat. Let it.
Check-in with yourself:
How do I feel?
What do I want more of?
What do I need, to move in that direction?
Who can I ask for support?
At the root of our despair are our impossible dreams. I’ve been embracing my secret wishes and wildest dreams, as a lens that reveals what actually brings me the hope, joy, life. This will include naming all the heartache and hopelessness, to grieve & rage fully. This too, for me, is taking hopeful action — to be brave and say what we want, and to take even the tiniest step or roll towards it. To get stuck, fall down, ask for a hand to help one back up, to try again. It simply means to not give up feeling and hoping and trying.
UPDATES
Movement Magic — In December 2023 I got to pilot a workshop that blends music, yoga, stillness, movement and dancing towards transformation. If you’re in the NYC area, stay tuned for more!
Mentoring — I’m thrilled to be serving as a mentor again for the fourth cohort of Coaching for Healing, Justice and Liberation. I love mentoring, and it teaches me so much.
Coaching — I’m now taking on new coaching clients. If you or someone you know would like to explore working with me, you can book a 30-minute discovery call here.
GEMS OF WISDOM, JOY, AND HEALING
A poem sung — Refaat Alareer’s now famous poem If I Must Die has been transformed into this haunting song by singer, Farah Siraj. I was introduced to this version by Grassroots International (GRI) via their funder solidarity learning space.
Another poem, because it’s that kind of season — On Living, by Nazim Hikmet.
More music — And finally, here is the Transmuting Grief to Joy playlist that accompanied the movement magic workshop. Moving your body can move your emotions, of course, and moving your heart can also shift your mind.