Imagine you are a student sitting in a classroom. Look around your classroom.
Who do you see?
Where is your desk?
Where does your teacher stand?
We know the typical scene well. Students are seated at desks in parallel rows facing the front of the room. The teacher stands at the front of the room. You take notes and might even muster the courage to ask a question.
This image is engrained within me at a great cost.
This image models a system of deference, obedience and passivity.
I’ve been sitting in the back of the class for a while, but something isn’t quite right. With sincere trepidation, I’m realizing no one is showing up with all the answers.
Gone are the days where someone is going to pop in and assume responsibility.
This opportunity is a grimy, imperfect gift (assembly required), but we can’t underestimate its worth.
It’s been more than 150 days since I first heard of the coronavirus. 150 days is just enough time for the freshness to wear off. It’s enough time to become insular. It’s enough time for the construction paper hearts on my front window to lose adhesion and begin peeling toward the floor.
Lotus, meet the mud.
Thinking back to History Class, I recall a series of movements that changed humanity—some even brought more equality and light to the world. They were led by people who were, in my mind, fundamentally remarkable.
It took me a minute to realize that those people who inspired change probably considered themselves average people. They were just average people without an alternative choice. They were just average people who couldn’t afford to hide anymore. Yes, they were brave, but their courage was born of necessity.
We have little context to see how our personal sacrifice will play out, but it’s not difficult to calculate the possible cost of waiting for someone else to fix our current predicament. Could this be the best time to lean into our values for their own sake?
We all have done the best we can with the tools we were given. Could that be the best reason to look toward the future, rather than ruminate on the past?
I’m asking: To honor those who have been denied a voice, what actions will I take? To honor those who have no choice, what will I choose? To honor those who face the darkness, how might I live my light?
Turning off “default” behaviors and reprogramming ingrained habits is the most exhausting thing imaginable. Some days the goal might just be to survive the day, and that’s more than ok! It’s good to survive the day. Maybe though, there’s a day you’re uplifted by someone’s kindness. Maybe there’s a day you break down so far that you contact a deep and abiding love and resilience you never knew was there.
What can I do with my good days? The days with energy and inspiration? What would it look like if I didn’t rush back to the comfort of default mode given the first chance?
We are in it together, but in a very real sense, we cannot see how this is all taking shape. We can’t put a logo on all the forces of good in action. We are much too close. In these moments, I take great comfort in the words:
“If the creative energies in the heart of the universe succeeded so brilliantly in the past, we have reason to hope that such creativity will inspire us and guide us into the future. My greatest hope would be that these life systems are so powerful, are themselves so resilient that we can take inspiration from the natural world and its fantastic, intriguing mystery and complexity. In this way, our own generativity can become woven into the vibrant communities that constitute the vast symphony of the universe.”
—Thomas Berry
“There’s violence, polarization, environmental degradation, and suffering all over the globe. Things seem like they’re spinning out of control. We can respond to this state of affairs with fear, aggression, and selfishness, or we can respond out of trust in our vast, open, basically good mind, which is timelessly aware, yet empty of imputed meanings. How we respond will determine the way the world will go. As citizens of our world, we can help things go in the direction of wisdom, caring, and compassion.”
—Pema Chodron
Mary Evelyn Tucker says that the universe only changes and moves forward “between great tensions, between dynamic opposing forces.” This moment beautifully illustrates the type of tension we need to really change.
So while I may have often fallen short of true bravery, I find courage born of necessity.
One very concrete thing to practice is noting thoughts of apathy and polarization. It seems really small, but it has led me to see where I typically shut down. Looking further at those moments, I’m realizing they are precisely enough to wake up and change. Noting my limiting thoughts has inspired me to alternatively choose to be of service, to have difficult conversations, to participate.
Here’s to another day of slugging through with all the awkward, imperfect grace that makes us human. I’m thankful to be on this journey with you all.
—Jessica Lien, Prairiewoods development coordinator