I woke up fresh this morning, ready to help everyone I come into contact with cultivate a sense of hope, first with my family, then with work. Fresh baked bread feels hopeful. A clean countertop, encouraging culinary exploration, now that’s hopeful. Mmmmm. Art supplies just waiting on the table. Maybe? Still not feeling it, I pushed into exercise. This’ll do it, I thought. I’ll be energized and optimistic in no time.
I sweated. It didn’t come. My chest tightened imagining the struggle to reopen safely vs. the struggle to survive separated from our lives. The fear of sending my beloveds back out into a world where they might have more danger vs. the joy of seeing them return to their regular programming. I wondered about making some sort of checklist. Feeling a sense of agency could help? Maybe? I sat down to write.
There are few things that cultivate more hopelessness and helplessness than pretending a moment isn’t what it is.
You are here. You are not responsible for carrying us anywhere else. There are few things that cultivate more hopelessness and helplessness than pretending a moment isn’t what it is. Be where you are. That is enough.