From bread-baking to meaning-making
Hello you parade passing by.
I feel like there is a little bit of a shift in the air. And it feels good. Maybe a little hopeful. But different. There are definitely lots of ways to feel grateful and experience joy right now. Moving into warmer spring weather is a tonic for the soul. But so are some new daily rhythms that have emerged (for me: twice-daily meditations, regular family check ins, listening to podcasts on the elliptical, etc... what are yours?), as well as some unexpected surprises that pop in to shake up those (sometimes plodding) daily rhythms (for me: getting an email from an old friend after many
years, looking down at your phone after call and curiously finding 63 new messages on your three-person group text thread, getting embroidered hand towels in the mail from your fabulous mother, etc... what are some of yours?)
That said, while we all continue down the rabbit hole of physical distancing, for me, it is slowly becoming "not enough" to keep hammering away at merely feeling grateful and appreciating the simple pleasures of daily living (although don't get me wrong-- these are definitely important for staying sane). As the quarantine continues-- and as the immediate danger seems to be subsiding as we flatten the curve in Canada (hooray!)-- I have been thinking this week about what truly feels nourishing right now. Because in true wannabe-hipster form, while making my own bread seems to be scratching a small bit of that itch, I am also yearning to find a deeper relationship with this moment by seeking more meaning instead of just seeking the fleeting happiness of a warm loaf of bread.
I know, I know. MEANING! Bah!
Who has the time!?
I know how this sounds sometimes-- I can feel the heaviness of contemplating "MEANING" versus the fun lightness of living with "joy". Especially when there is so much fear and pain around us. And especially when there are so many things to do, to sit with, to think about, to manage. Most people are not sitting home watching "Tiger King" and in fact are busier in a lot of ways than they were before the pandemic kicked off. So I get that investing time to reflect can be a luxury for some people. But hear me out.
Part of what I appreciated about the NYT article above-- and the case for seeking meaning over happiness more broadly-- is how we humans actually find meaning in these moments: through balancing the joy and the sadness, as opposed to forcing happiness and wallowing in the dissonance of pretending that the sadness and tragedy around us doesn't exist. Indeed, "when researchers and clinicians look at who copes well in crisis and even grows through it, it’s not those who focus on pursuing happiness to feel better; it’s those who cultivate an attitude of tragic optimism... or the ability to maintain hope and find meaning in life despite its inescapable pain, loss and suffering." So it is not necessarily doing more. It is just doing things a bit differently.
While I have long been known as a bit of a "Pollyanna" (particularly according to my long-suffering, glass-half-
empty-yet-charming father), my relationship with optimism has changed over the years. More recently, while I still look for the glimmers of light eventually, I have learned a lot about the value and beauty of sitting with the stress, despair, pain or fear of a given moment, and resting in that space knowing that "this too shall pass", both the good or bad. "Life is, as Buddhists say, 10,000 joys and 10,000 sorrows. As much as we might wish, none of us can avoid suffering. That’s why it’s important to learn to suffer well."
For me, to suffer well in this moment is not to seek solace (much), but to live with both pain and hope. The reality is that the impossible has already happened, and "one of our main tasks now – especially those of us who are not sick, are not frontline workers, and are not dealing with other economic or housing difficulties – is to understand this moment, what it might require of us, and what it might make possible." As Solnit goes on to say (and I cannot capture more eloquently), "ordinary life before the pandemic was already a catastrophe of desperation and exclusion for too many human beings, an environmental and climate catastrophe, an obscenity of inequality. It is too soon to know what will emerge from this emergency, but not too soon to start looking for chances to help decide it. It is, I believe, what many of us are preparing to do."
So in my very small way, this is part of what I am trying to figure our how to do as I attempt to try to find meaning. Beyond participating in the Gaia Project with thousands of others (as we discussed a couple of weeks ago), I am also trying to watch, listen and pay more attention to how the rampant inequalities of the "before times" are being noticed, monitored, discussed, perpetuated or remedied right now. Whether it is political moves towards a Universal Basic Income in Canada, the evolving global advocacy space and the potential of local activism (PS: here is a cool toolkit if you are interested in starting something yourself), analyzing the impact of racial inequalities during the pandemic, demanding a better gender lens on the reporting for the tragic shooting in Nova Scotia, or tracking the impact on human rights due to COVID19-- there are a lot of important conversations happening around some of the most broken parts of the past, and momentum building for how we might improve things for the future.
PS: Another very simple, concrete way I have been exploring ways to find meaning in this moment is connecting to random strangers around the world through Quarantine Chat, to learn about how others outside of my bubble are coping, what they are experiencing, hoping for, thinking about. For those interested in trying it out (highly recommended!), you download the app (linked in the article), sign up for the Quarantine Chat discussion therein, and then wait for your first call... I get an average of one call a day (usually around dinner time but it varies), which you can choose to pick up or not. If you decide to go ahead with the call, you are given a suggested discussion question, and then are connected with another person in the system who has also answered their phone. And then off you go. I have really loved the experience.
We are all figuring out what this moment might mean to each of us in small and big ways (and finding our moments of happiness and joy amid the suffering we embrace). But as Bjork (!) put it rather beautifully: “After tragedies, one has to invent a new world, knit it or embroider, make it up. It’s not gonna be given to you because you deserve it; it doesn’t work that way. You have to imagine something that doesn’t exist and dig a cave into the future and demand space. It’s a territorial hope affair. At the time, that digging is utopian, but in the future, it will become your reality.”
So thank you for being you, in whatever ways you are able to show up today. Maybe it is baking bread. Maybe it is starting a movement. Maybe it is sharing your hopes and fears with a stranger on the phone. Maybe it is staking some territory for hope. Maybe something in between. All is welcome. You are doing great!
But wait! Perhaps all of this talk of pandemic meaningfulness is feeling a bit too intense on a sunny Sunday morning? Then please feel free to contemplate what's happening off of the third rock from the sun by checking out this awesome Nautilus edition dedicated to aliens.
Still too much realness? Then in the spirit of giving you a moment of joy, please check out this short video of a beautifully clumsy dog (wait until the end for the gold). I have watched it approximately 7 trillion times.
From one meaning-seeking person to another, I am glad that we can hope for the future together. I hope you enjoyed this dispatch, and have a joy-and-sorrow-filled week!
Until next Sunday,
The Earnest Platypus