First and foremost, a giant and heartfelt thank you for the stream of messages and texts inquiring about our safety and the state of things in the mountains. I was in DC and my mom was in Raleigh, so we are safe. I don’t have information about the house at this point, but when so many are experiencing unimaginable losses, we can just be grateful that we are fine. What I do know is this: the faraway world is burning and the nearby world is drowning. There is so much to hold, and we need to feel all of it.
Honestly, I didn’t really have a sense of what was happening over the weekend. A hurricane? In the mountains? It did not register in my brain. I was headed to the airport on Friday morning when I received notification that my flight was cancelled, and I spent the next few hours booking and rebooking, focussed on my own little sphere of life. The weekend was swallowed at a conference with learning, inspiration, community, connection, and deep, fulfilling time with some of my favorite people from all over the world. It wasn’t until Sunday morning when I got back onto social media that the impact of what was happening began to hit me.
As I spent most of Monday trying to get back to Raleigh, I poured through videos and photos, messaging friends in the Western part of the state to see if they were safe. By the time I got home, I was vibrating with fear, grief, sadness, overwhelm. As much as I had so many things I wanted to share with you this month, none seem important, or even relevant in this moment.
But there are three things that do matter right now. The first is gratitude. If you are reading this, you have internet. You probably have power. Chances are good that you are safe, warm, and dry, with access to water, food, and gasoline. I absolutely get that we should be grateful for these things all the time, but nothing like true calamity at your doorstep to smack you awake to what you have. Hopefully it also brings into focus the devastation that is happening on the other side of the world that can be harder to connect to, and more difficult to access emotionally.
Which brings me to the next thing that matters. I urge you to feel this. Whether you are moved by the impact here at home or abroad, feel all of it. Cry, shout, shake, write, talk, rest, breathe. Please do not bypass whatever is rising in you. I believe that we find ourselves in this situation because at some point along the way, we stopped feeling. And when we stopped feeling, we stopped connecting. We bought into the lie of separation and forgot the truth of our oneness.
I think that the grief became too much, the loss too great, the devastation and injustice impossible to comprehend. And so we shut down. But it is in feeling that we connect to our humanity– which is the one humanity– the collective. When we feel, we cannot help but remember the interconnectedness of you and me and everyone else and this big, beautiful, weeping planet. Trust that you can hold it. Allow yourself to feel whatever needs to be felt. You don’t need to change it, fix it, control it, or make it go away. But can you just let it be there, holding it gently, for the precious gift it is to be alive? What lives underneath all of that emotion is Truth.
The last thing that matters is the imperative to do something. Make a donation. Purchase much needed supplies. In many ways we are relatively helpless to make a perceivable dent in the devastation across the planet. In contrast, we are very able to help someone a few miles or hours down the road. And there is no acceptable excuse not to do so. I’ve quoted Einstein so many times… we must give back in measure as we have received…
So now, I invite you to sit down in a quiet space, with a hand on your chest and a hand on your belly. Ask: what is present? What do I need to feel? With gentleness, patience and compassion, allow what is to arise. Feel that. And then take a deep breath and take action. This is the work.
All love,
xoj