The Dissolve: What I will not Sacrifice

I reckon we are all in a time right now that I am labelling: "The Dissolve". It is  deeply stirring of the stagnant, involves letting go of shame and living in absolute fucking chaos.

I can think of a few choices of how to approach this space emotionally and psychologically-

1. Ride it out and get battered by the storm 

2. Invite some clarity to balance the madness, discomfort and grief by asking - what is actually getting stirred? What is it that I am being asked to let go of personally? Or more simply WTF is going on?

I need my mind to understand it so I can shape it into some kind of sanity.

1. But perhaps we can go even more gently. 

   Be even more curious. 

   And perhaps a little more difficult, and ask : 

   what do I actually need?

In my plant-studies, we are currently working with Burdock. For me the instant physical reaction that comes up when I taste the plant Burdock - known as a shit-stirrer (clinical term: "cleanser")  is:

I’d love this to be a bit sweeter. 

I’d love to feel a bit more held in this place of dissolution.

I NEED to be held.

Simple. And strangely very reasonable.

But so much clarity ! Bizarre! Almost small sounding in the face of big ordeal. Big life. Big chaos.

Lately, so many, if not all, of my clients are experiencing feelings of deep fear and overwhelm. Asking questions like ‘what am I even doing? Why am I living like this?’ Or further - ‘how can I even deign to take the time to offer myself tiny crumbs of care when there is so much suffering in the world?’ It feels like a dirty privilege to even begin to look that way. It feels like looking away from what is truly important.

Looking away from injustice.

Looking away from pain.

Looking away from entangled hostility.

A very very old voice that says- if I don’t focus on this, then I’m ignoring it.

A bit like proving that we are not a people who bypass pain.

But, funny thing is - I feel- this is sometimes feeding a wound, rather than witnessing a wound. 

Being catasrophised by catastrophe.

Being traumatised by trauma.

In clinical terms we call it- vicarious trauma. Becoming attached to the suffering of others and forgetting that we too, are a person with a life, also living.

What if, just IF, for 1 minute a day, we witnessed our own need for tiny sweetness and love. Gave ourselves just a breadcrumb of what is missing in the larger picture. Not as a way of ignoring the madness, but as a way of including something else as well.

Planting a seed of gentleness in this heart of grief.

So much at the moment feels like the heavy business of witnessing ruin and feeling helpless, or carrying on with a relentless life - one full of obligation.

What if we just had a little, little minute, of something else too.

It's real, you know. It’s as real a feeling, as real a truth, as all the other ones. And not only does it not bypass anything, it means that messy, tiny love becomes a living truth, walking around on 2 legs.

Just as real as the AI overlords taking over, just as real as the bastard that never paid getting away with it, just as real as suffering.

And weirdly, this love on 2 legs, offers an alternate reality. This thing being grieved- a world of justice, health and sovereignty - begins to exist. Underground.

Like a radical act of rebellion… bootleg love.

I read a piece last night about Non-violent communication… and it boiled down a simple yet difficult thing: To get what we want, we need to be able to say what it is.

When it feels like we are in a giant vortex of catastrophe, that is surprisingly difficult! Feelings of hopelessness and voicelessness take the microphone and speak a plain truth of THIS IS WHAT IS WRONG. This is what is NOT being done.

It takes a lot of work, and skill, to be able to speak, from a deep and vulnerable lonely place, of what I need to make this right. Not to solve everything, but to bring wholeness to this, now, moment. For me. 

The alchemy of this clarity is far-reaching.

One becomes two becomes four becomes infinite. But it's slow. It's a process. 

What this means is, if you are in touch with your need, through the frozen surface of dismay, you may find there is a warm weapon of compassion - alive and well. 

Perhaps a different way of asking or knowing this need in 'the dissolve', would be to ask, what am I NOT willing to sacrifice. In all this letting go - what am I absolutely not willing to let go of?

It could be- the love of my children, the love of my dog, my morning coffee, loud music in the car.. music in general, breathing…. Something simple. Maybe think about- what is sweet? And it can be the most mundane response you like. The more mundane the better. Something like - I just fucking love cloudy days because they give me an excuse to be cosy and there’s no pressure to be happy.

So that. THAT. That there love. THAT is a non-negotiable. That is love living in a hard place. THAT is love that just refuses to be sacrificed.

Tell me some more.!

My dad always used to put his shoes on before his trousers. He said- I just hate my pants getting creased while I eat my breakfast. (I should have asked more questions!). 

So he would walk around every morning- tap tap tap in his business shoes, Covid-newsreader style- with shirt, tie, jacket, undies, NO PANTS and socks and shoes.

It was his non-negotiable. I REFUSE to not love uncreased pants.

That is love living in a hard place.

What else?

I’ll tell you one of mine - I HAVE to have a friend in this world to whom I can speak my deepest truth - whether beautiful or painful. HAVE TO. It is NON-NEGOTIABLE. I REFUSE to hold my truth alone. REFUSE.

Sometimes my friend is a person. Sometimes it is a guinea pig. Sometimes it is a tree. 

Sometimes, my friend is me. 

That’s what I will not sacrifice. A feeling of freedom to express truth in this world and feel the words leave my lips. The sound of the words of what I know to be true.

SO thanks for reading - your eyes are my friend today. I needed it.