To be an awake + aware human on planet earth means we sometimes feel despair.
Which is normal + okay.
I try to remember this when it happens to me.
I’m extremely lucky to be in good mental health, in possession of tools to help me cope, and in relationship with good humans who give me expressions of love + experiences of togetherness when I need them.
And I’m thankful I’ve pieced together a worldview that more or less keeps me sane, grounded, and connected to what matters, even when things get hard.
And still, there are days when I feel like I’m moving through a thick fog. When I feel heavy + lost. When bad news floods my capacity to process it in real time. When there seems to be no way this doesn’t all end in disaster. When I find myself asking: wait, what is the actual point of all of this again?
This happened today.
I woke up inside the fog.
So I took a deep breath and...
...remembered that despair is an entirely normal symptom of the times we live in + just part of being human. It’s not my favorite, but I also don’t need to panic every time it shows up.
...also remembered that it’s February, which isn’t the greatest month for me all around. (Despair happens in context.)
...spent some time with the ancestors because they get it. Talking to dead people who’ve lived on this planet (+ know how this goes) reliably makes me feel less alone.
...forced myself to get on the treadmill and then cried in the car on the way to work -- because it’s smart to keep the energy moving.
...told a story to a friend that made me laugh so hard that I cried some more.
...plugged into the goodness I could find -- my Spotify playlist, the cozy sweater I picked out today, the green tea that perked my energy by fractions.
...thought about why I’m here + what I’m doing + why it matters.
In my experience, despair usually doesn’t have a satisfying answer -- at least not one that makes it all better + resolves the issue.
Despair asks us to go deeper.
Into a subterranean space where it takes a moment for our vision to adjust, where -- if we stay there long enough -- we can start to see new things in the shadows.
And in that space, I see that, while real, despair isn’t ever the only thing in the room.
When I widen my gaze + deepen into the space, I begin to see other real things: flashes of freedom, moments of meaning, flickers of hope.
I begin to remember that there are things that exist in the world that matter to me.
I see the small openings where my agency shapes the trajectory.
I feel -- deep my bones -- that I’m not alone. Never was, never will be. (Neither are you)
And as long as we’re still here, power + freedom are alive inside of us.
As long as we’re still here, there are still things to try, create, and strive for.
As long as we’re still here, we might as well enjoy beauty, connection, and awe where we find them.
As long as we’re here, laughing, enjoying, playing, and singing are endeavors worthy of our time.
And maybe none of this fixes or solves much, but it matters.
And there’s something inside of that mattering we can carry with us -- an enduring power + big magic that lights the way forward.