A Ha'penny Will Do

I saw a new video on Facebook today from one of my favorite charities. It was hard to watch, and as I watched it, my cursor paused and hovered over the share button. Would this be too much for my friends to see? It’s about global cybersex trafficking affecting children, and the production team said it was one of the hardest stories they’ve told yet. The holidays have started, and we just went through a rough political upheaval in the U.S. I think people are exhausted by difficult things in social media land right now.  (dot, dot, dot)

Screw it. Of course I’ll share the video. And I’ll even comment about how hard it was to watch and how #givingtuesday is tomorrow and that people should consider donating to end cybersex trafficking. And here's why: I don’t think that justice-minded people are that much different than other people. They have the same feelings as everyone else. But what I do think is different is their unwavering commitment to take action and pay attention to hard things.

My friends working to heal the world tell me they, too, feel that overwhelming sense of helplessness, hopelessness when confronted with injustice and hardship. But they don’t stay there. WE don’t stay there. We shouldn’t and we can’t stay there. But we do travel through that dark valley of despair, just like everyone else. I believe we should have spirits and hearts strong enough to shift our focus from our work inbox and grocery shopping lists to global justice and poverty issues and back again. We should strive to feel the hurts of others and also tend to our own lives.

For the record, I don’t think it’s particularly fun, being a highly sensitive person. We notice everything, especially the odd, unhealthy, ugly and wrong things. But at this moment, I find myself celebrating my high sensitivity. It does add to my life in this one very important respect: it’s hard for me to feel callused to important issues where people’s lives and well-being are at stake. My sensitivity makes it impossible to ignore hunger, rape, racism, sexism, violence and disaster. And maybe it's even a gift I can share with others, to call them to attend to the needs of others every now and then.

So here’s to a little bitterness amongst the sweet, the pinch of sadness amidst the holidays. Cherish with me the ancient tradition of philanthropy, because “if you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do; if you haven’t got a ha’penny, then God bless you.”  Be hardy and believe in the power of even the ha'penny.

#givingtuesday

Wandering

See that gal in the photo? I wish that was me.

I've been struggling with taking the next step in personal and professional life for some months now. While examining my life trajectory in detail is a regular occurrence for me, there are several aspects of this cycle of contemplation that make things much harder than in the past. Primarily, I don't have a clear gut feeling about what the most important aspect of my next move needs to be. That's a really weird sensation for me.

I'm a highly cerebral and intuitive person most times with tools and intellect to navigate complex moments. However, right now I find I lack the right questions to ask myself so that my path can become clear. Imagine a storybook bridge and a troll asking challenge questions, and then imagine being both the adventurer AND being the troll. Not so easy.

I'm finding Tara Sophia Mohr's Playing Big book and blog extremely helpful. It's so impactful, in fact, that I want to buy copies of this book for all the women in my life.  All of them - mothers, grandmothers, sisters, cousins, friends, co-workers... It's helping me identify those sophisticated, subtle thoughts that are holding me back from my next breakthrough. Mohr's book is gracious in that she points out that brilliant woman are exceptionally brilliant at holding themselves back (not consciously, of course), therefore it may take a bit of work and digging to find those snags you're creating for yourself.

Fighting for the next upgrade to your soul, mind, heart and body is a worthy battle. Right now, I admit a profound confusion. One of my mentors told me, “it’s ok to wander.” I meditate on that, and it calms the anxiety that comes when one doesn’t have a certain, fixed point of reference. I recall the biblical imagery of important people wandering around in wilderness (uncultivated land) before they go on an important mission. That sounds about right. But what the record keepers simply gloss over by saying, “he wandered in the wilderness for forty days and forty nights...” is in fact, gritty, confusing and hungry work. Perhaps it's impossible to describe adequately, so they don't even try.

So maybe I am that gal in the picture, wandering in the wilderness and seeking new heights. Yeah. Maybe that is me after all.

Burgers for Breakfast

I wake up every morning, a little sad, poorly rested and restless of mind and soul. I search on my phone for news stories and personal updates that might engage me, might draw me out of the grayish mood I constantly find myself in. But it’s not very effective. I end up feeling bored, jealous of my so-called friends’ lives, and maybe slightly amused by some recent scientific breakthrough. If I’m lucky.

What I really want is something truly brilliant to greet me in the morning. Not the ticking of the clock to remind me it’s time to wake up my son. Not the trudging of my husband’s feet as he moves from coffee maker to shower to closet. Not the disobedient, tiny screen that I demand fulfilment from. I’m hungry. God, I’m hungry. I want something big, chunky, challenging, with real texture and flavor. 

Like a burger for breakfast.

I was at a small team-building meal one time, and it was breakfast at a local shop – something we decided to try because it was different. We had a higher likelihood of actually making it if we started our day with a meeting instead of breaking our day’s chaos to try to meet for lunch. And so we did, that once. I was looking at the menu, and everyone was ordering omelets and waffles, but I ordered a burger for breakfast. They all stopped and stared at me as I gave my order. “I thought you were joking,” one of my colleagues said.

No. I’m not.

I don’t joke about this type of thing. I feel unpleasantly drunk daily with useless information, meaningless activity, and self-pity that somehow I can’t shake this feeling of disappointment. Where is the substantive stuff? Where are the worthy content and ideas and conversations?

Well, whatever. I decided today to just write into the oblivion and see what happens.

This isn’t my first attempt to do what I’ve felt born to do. No way, Jose. This is like the fifth. But maybe I’m just bottoming out and in a “fuck it” enough kind of mood to do what I need to do. Write, you bitch. Write for your life.

Ok. But first, I need a burger for breakfast. And some fries, too, please.