How’s your heart?
Yes, I know that’s a big question that’s hard to answer, especially since we’re reaching out to each other through the ethers, unable to look each other in the eyes in person.
As I write, though, I imagine that we’re sitting side by side, me with my coffee, you with your favorite warm beverage, sharing what’s on our hearts.
For me, the news this week has hit particularly hard. Somehow, for the last month or so, I’ve felt strangely joyful in the midst of it all, probably from some combination of dancing and yoga and progesterone and good times with my kid.
And yet, since hearing about the bombings in Iran, I’ve felt a bit stabbed in the solar plexus. My heart aches from reading news yesterday about the massive cuts in funding for species protection and climate mitigation and then the repeal of the “roadless rule,” which blocked logging and road construction on 58 million acres of national forest land since 2001. And the tears come when I think about over 59,000 immigrants separated from their loved ones and detained—the highest number ever recorded.
There is so much that is scary and sad in these times.
Meanwhile, as my son enters his senior year, the economy grows even more precarious, and I try to do my best to face the realities of prolonged collapse, I’ve been thinking a lot about what life is calling me to do now. I have many ideas, some of which I’ll likely share with you soon.
But today, as we sit beside each other in our imagination, I want to share with you two questions that are guiding me and offering me solace in the hope they might support you, too.
What do you know? And, what do you not know?
As you may well know, for years, the number one thing that clients have come to me seeking has been clarity, and I’ve dedicated nearly a decade to cultivating a body of work to help my clients find the clarity they long for.
And yet, as I face the dire state of our world, my inner Voice of Doubt has popped up in the last couple of days, asking, with some derision, What do you know about clarity? How can you possibly help people get clear about what to do now?
As I’ve noticed the pang of vulnerability and done my best to turn toward it with warmth, I’ve chuckled inwardly at the next thought that’s arisen:
Okay, you don’t know a lot, so what do you know?
We can ask this very same question with a tone of judgment—What do you know? Or with genuine curiosity and openness—What do you know? Try playing with the different tones and notice the difference.
Over the years, when clients feel stuck and uncertain, I’ve come to rely on the two seemingly simple questions—What do you know? And what don’t you know?
I’ve stopped equating clarity with certainty or with a sense of being convinced that I have the right steps or perfect path or the best way to go. And to see clarity as a sense of deep-bellied, matter-of-fact yup or nope or maybe, though I need more information.
Clarity is not about seeing the future; it is about choosing our response to the present challenge. It’s about connecting deep down with the part of ourselves that knows what to do, even when we don’t know what to do, and taking our next step. It’s about allowing ourselves to be guided by questions rather than grasping for answers we do not and cannot have.
And so, when the scared parts of me clamor that the world is ending and I don’t know what to do, and I should somehow know what to do because I trade in clarity, I’ve lovingly laughed a bit at how preponderous it is that I’d think I should have the answers and how habitual it’s become to return to this question.
Then, I’ve turned toward the scared parts and said—
Yes, this is incredibly scary. And it is incredibly sad. Of course, you don’t know what to do. Of course, you don’t know what to do.
And yet, what do you know?
Here are a few things I know:
- If I am called to live each day as if it were my last, then I’m doing it: loving my kid, dancing a lot, being in deep conversation with people I admire, showing up for my community.
- I know that I want my life to be a stand for the better world I am convinced is possible. I know I will not see it in my lifetime. But I also know that I am called to be a good ancestor for all the babies yet to come. And that even if humanity ceases to be, my life will have been a stand for what I love. That matters. And it feels so much better than capitulation.
- I know that all of the death and destruction is really, really, really sad. And really, really, really scary. And that tears are important, even if I’m still learning to let them come.
- I know that I do not know what is going to happen next. That I do not have answers or solutions, even though I really want them.
- I don’t know where we came from or where we will go after we die. But I know that in this lifetime, we have love, and we have hate. Therefore, I know I choose love.
In these times of madness and confusion, acknowledging what I do and do not know somehow settles me a bit. I sigh. My shoulders relax. My next step often becomes clearer.
I invite you to try it. It helps to write it out to get the jumble of thoughts out of my head, so I encourage you to get a journal and write your thoughts.
What do you know? What do you not know?
And if you’d like to share what arises with me, I welcome you to send me an email.