During this time of world pandemic and important protests about unrelenting racial injustice, my bandwidth is reduced. Since I’m doing so much internal work. I can only take in limited media. Likewise, I can only sustain creative output in focused ways. Facebook is where I’m sharing the most: words, images, insights. I understand why some of you avoid social media (for the very reasons I mention above). I want my website and blog to be a refuge for anyone who enters. So, I’m taking my content from FB and posting it here (in two parts). This is such a raw, tender, turbulent, uncertain, yet wakeful time in our world. Take very good care of your beautiful, brave, precious selves.
June 2
The first year I volunteered in prison, sitting in a circle with inmates, practicing mindfulness, I heard an emotional and important message. One of the group members, during his check-in, spoke through tears, “Yesterday, I talked to my mom. She’s worried about me. I’m getting out soon, but she thinks I’m safer in prison. She’s terrified I’ll be shot by a cop.” That’s when I realized I have no idea (not even close) what it’s like to be a black man in this country. I have no idea (not even close) what it’s like to be the mom of a black man, so worried he’ll be shot for walking down the street or driving in a car (or committing an unarmed crime).
This is the smallest snippet of what I don’t know, yet I feel in my heart. And it’s important for me to sit in this groundless, painful place, not to punish myself but to better understand. There’s nothing I can solve or fix. There are no magic words. I don’t want to be in denial or despair. So, I sit in meditation with a heavy yet open heart.
June 5
We can't control the world nor our life circumstances. We can't wave a magic wand and make everything okay. In fact, I wouldn't want to. As individuals and a country, we're grappling with uncomfortable yet vital issues. If we’re willing, we can sit in this discomfort (not distracting or blaming or judging), just sit. Sit with our own pain and the pain of others. Sit with an open, compassionate heart.
This morning, in my Zoom meditation class, I led a loving-kindness healing practice. Loving-kindness has a spacious intention with no expectation of outcome. We do this as a balm for our heart. And then our heart meets other hearts with more understanding, acceptance, and love.
May we all be free from fear.
May we be peaceful.
May we embody love and acceptance.
May we live with more ease and begin to heal.
June 7
When life is difficult, we often escape into our heads: How can I fix this? Who’s to blame? We judge each other and question motives. This happened during the MeToo movement. This happens now, during the protests against racial injustice. We’re deeply uncomfortable. During MeToo, people who hadn’t experienced sexual assault, and those who had, were in a place of discomfort: If that can happen to her, it can happen to me; if people find out what happened to me, they might not believe me or love me. And the propagators of sexual assault, if they were brave enough, met and faced the lifelong, damaging harm they caused.
Now we’re in a place of racial unrest. Black Americans have experienced daily, unrelenting, heartbreaking injustice at the hands of police, courts, businesses, and general culture (for hundreds of years). This makes us white people extremely uncomfortable. We want to escape into our minds: How can I fix this? How can I prove I’m not racist?
Resmaa Menakem invites us to FEEL. Feel how racial discomfort sits in our bodies. Feel how we tighten and tense. And he invites us to soothe ourselves rather than looking to others, especially black people, to make us feel better. His book, “My Grandmother’s Hands,” provides practices to engage with biases, fears, and traumas within our own bodies. It’s an amazing read.
Krista Tippett interviewed Resmaa just before the COVID-19 quarantine. His words speak truthfully and beautifully to what’s happening right now in our country. Click here to listen (or read the transcript).
