About 4 years ago, I embarked on a 3 week silent retreat. No phone, no music, no books, no tv, no distractions of any kind, and no contact with the outside world (aside from one hour a day with the therapist facilitating the experience).
While it was one of the most transformational experiences of my life, it was also brutally painful and devastatingly lonely.
Since many of us are facing unprecedented amounts of alone time and isolation, I thought I would share a few things I learned from my experience:
1️⃣ Developing a routine, of some kind, is essential to establishing some semblance of normalcy. This could be as simple as eating meals at the same time every day or as stringent as time blocking your day.
2️⃣ Connecting with nature is both stabilizing and soothing. This can be accomplished through a short walk each day, a morning meditation while looking out the window, having coffee on your front porch, etc.
3️⃣ Screens do not fill a void, they merely distract you from it. Take some time away from your phone and computer to be in your body and fully experience your emotions. Movement is really helpful. Walk around your home, consciously alter your posture, stretch, punch the air, etc.
4️⃣ There is no way out but through. Whatever obsessive thoughts or tumultuous emotions this pandemic has inspired will be there until you move through them. Wondering how? Write down all of your truths — no matter how raw or ugly they might feel — and get them outside your body.
5️⃣ If you are not in a position to seek outside input or virtual companionship, recall your fondest memories. Write them down. Draw — even if you don’t feel like you’re good at it.
Make lists of your favorite things, the best attributes of yourself, the people you love, the hobbies you long to get back to. This practice will create a thread connecting the “you” in this moment to the “you” that has previously existed and will exist again.
6️⃣ Sing. Cry. Pray. Let yourself feel all that you can bear — and then some — and then sleep.
7️⃣ Drink lots of water. Make several cups of tea.
8️⃣ Write letters you those you love, whisper forgiveness to those you have wronged (even if you cannot actually tell them), discover who you are when not confined by what you do or how you interact with the world.
9️⃣ Listen to the birds. Marvel at the simplicity of their day-after-day rhythms. Notice how they somehow still rise with the sun, despite all that overwhelms our human sensibilities.
🔟 And since this isn’t a silent retreat in which you are completely cut off from human interaction, pick up the phone. Call a friend. FaceTime a loved one. Remind yourself of the beauty of being connected, even in such a time as this.
The coronavirus may have closed down restaurants, overwhelmed hospitals, emptied the streets, and disrupted our routines. But it hasn’t stripped us of our humanity.
You can still laugh ‘til you cry, share virtual drinks with friends, listen to your favorite music, grieve life’s deep loss, celebrate milestones, and even fall in love.
We will get through this together, even though we might be apart physically. The only way out is through.
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When you grow up in a religious culture that convinces its members that everyone who believes and lives differently than them has been deceived and doesn’t know the Truth, it’s easy to see how half the country has been brainwashed to believe cold, hard facts are “fake news.”
Tr*mp’s America didn’t develop overnight.
His followers were primed by the evangelical church, which teaches that the world is against them and that it’s the sworn duty of its members to never waver in their certainty, even when they can’t explain their beliefs.
Blind faith that lacks critical thinking and biblical/historical scholarship has led to blind trust in untrustworthy leaders —
Leaders who claim to work in their best interest of their followers while brainwashing their followers to believe everyone else is against them.
I moved from the suburbs of Chicago to a small town in Tennessee the summer before 8th grade. When I opened my U.S. History textbook, I noticed something weird. My TN textbook detailed the Civil War in complete contrast to my IL textbook. It sounded like a totally separate event.
It was the first time I ever heard the Civil War referred to as “The War of Northern Agression.”
It was the first time I ever heard the phrase “The South will rise again.”
It was the first time someone had ever called me a “Yankee” and meant it as an insult.
Back then, I thought to myself,
“What did they mean, ‘the South will rise again?’ Rise to WHAT? Slavery?? What could the southern states possibly be holding a grudge about and why is there so much animosity around this war that clearly made America better?”
To extinguish the plague of racism in the United States, white folks first need to address the whitewashed version of Christianity upon which the US was founded that (1) underlies our broken system of justice & (2) signals our complicity in acts of violence against black bodies.
Whitewashed Christianity is what enables white folks to go unchecked in their ignorance, as they echo phrases like “I don’t see color” with a false sense of moral superiority, while carrying on with their casual, everyday racism fueled by their “color blindness.”
But that’s just it - racism is never casual. It’s just not always overt. It doesn’t always look like murder in broad daylight or men masquerading in bed sheets to terrorize their neighbors.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my body’s resistance to what is happening all around us right now.
My innate fight/flight/freeze response to this global trauma. The startling jolt each morning of our present reality.
My body’s desire to escape and find safety.
How that jolt throughout my heart, my mind, and my body—while still fiercely present—dulls a bit each day.
How the initial grief at empty streets, citywide closures, and extreme social distancing measures is morphing into something else:
Numb acceptance.
I can tell my subconscious mind has grown to accept this eerie reality as “normal” because when I see photos of groups of people, my whole body tenses up.
I wonder what it will be like when we can all be close to each other again. Will we hesitate to gather in groups?
My wife and I moved to Chicago last week. We’ve been self quarantining for the past two days. Today, we slipped out briefly to pick up our dining room table and walk our dog. We stayed as far away from other people as possible.
We are isolating and practicing social distancing, not because we are afraid of getting sick, but because we recognize the severity of this situation for immunocompromised individuals and our society at large.
The social + economic ramifications of this unmitigated health crisis are already devastating. As IL closes all restaurants and bars tomorrow, small business owners and service employees will be drastically impacted, even as we collectively strive to slow the spread of the virus.