We are in the middle of a deep freeze here in Nova Scotia. Ice everywhere, and it is treacherous, cold, and difficult to get out and do the exercise that keeps many of us sane. I’m finding there is also a sense of stuckness in other areas of life too. For instance, we’ve been out of our house for 10 months since the fire, and only now (literally last week) did the rebuild work start.
There seems to be a similar pattern in the lives of friends and family who are struggling with uncertainty, chaos, or overwhelm. And then there’s the world we’re living in and the narcissist to the south with no warmth in his heart, blowing cold ruthless blasts around the world.
The truth is that there are so many things we could be fighting for and so much need for collective action, but it’s hard to see a unified organizing force. There is a sense of general apathy or perhaps exhaustion—people hunkering down in their separate silos as we face myriad global crises.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this and how to counter the overwhelming feelings of darkness, fear, and insecurity. We have limited power over the larger events, but it doesn’t mean we have no power at all. In our own families, in our own circles, and in our communities, there are so many things we can do.
I think of the receptionist who didn’t just say “have a nice day” as I was leaving the office where she worked; she told me to take care of my head and my heart in these times. I think of the “Helping Hands” community, set up by two friends of ours post-fire, and the willingness of people to help us. I think of how many Canadians are shopping right now and reading labels, wanting to support our own country in the face of a bully.
The actions we take in our personal lives may not help us feel in control and they may not help us feel more secure, but they will probably create a warmer feeling in our own hearts and more optimism about the human race. And they will undoubtedly make a positive impact in one way or another, one small act at a time.
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I write these posts, and tell my own personal stories, to forge a sense of connection, create community, and to help me (and maybe you too?) feel not so alone. To that end, here are a few things that have been helping me. And I would love to hear what is helping you too.
Being kind. Even on my lowest of days, I try to remember to smile at people on the street, talk to cashiers in stores, and thank people who are clearing their sidewalks of snow and ice. When I do this, and when others take the time to do this for me, it reminds me of the power of simple kindness and presence and it reinforces the belief that we can make the world a better place in our small corners of the world.
Reading poetry. My partner and I light a candle each morning and read aloud from Mary Oliver’s book Devotions, a collection of her poetry over her entire lifetime (and one that she curated herself). This simple act returns me to the world of beautiful words and their power, plus Oliver wrote almost exclusively about the sacredness of nature and how it can inspire us to lead lives of more simplicity and grace.
Seeking balance. Some days it’s 10 minutes spent stretching my body, while other days it’s a few lines in my journal. Walking also helps a lot. And so does time in the woods and time with friends. In this period of so much incredibly sad and frightening news, it’s vital that we do things that ground us and return us to our essence. And also nourish ourselves with hope and inspiration.
Giving time. Since the fire and returning from the Camino, I have been volunteering for some local organizations where I felt my time or energy might make a difference: a local church breakfast for those who are homeless, transient, living sheltered, or struggling to get by; the wonderful school our kids graduated from; and our local Alzheimer Society. Even though the thought of volunteering in this discombobulating season of being out of our house and dealing with the complexities of an insurance claim seemed counterintuitive, it has turned out to be a really positive experience and has taken me out of our family’s unique (and sometimes sad and troubling) bubble.
Tending to a creative project. In the time since our family’s upheaval, I have devoted myself to working on a book, one that is about my Camino last spring. It’s been something positive and life-affirming and hopeful to work on in a dark-ish time. And it’s also allowed me to relive and celebrate an adventure that felt eclipsed by the large personal event of the fire. Working on this book has allowed me to experience the medicine and the magic of creativity, and I highly recommend it for whatever arduous journey you are on! (I’m also happy to let you know that the book, called Solo Camino: An Empowering Guide for Women, will be out soon, likely in the next couple of months. I will tell you more about it in future posts!)
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Wherever you are—if you are struggling with your own personal catastrophes or feel locked in by winter’s icy grip or overwhelmed with the state of the world just now—I hope that something I have offered here makes a difference for you. We are stronger and better together than suffering alone.
With heart,
—Renée
“I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in singing, especially when singing is not necessarily prescribed.”
—Mary Oliver
Next Round Starting for the Short Story Intensive!
I’m just finishing up work with my first Short Story Intensive clients. I started this program with only the sweet nudge of intuition and I’ve been blown away by the writers I’ve been working with and their talent. Five weeks of hard work has resulted in short stories and creative non-fiction pieces that are much improved and ready to send out into the world.
Helping other writers improve their writing and step closer to their dreams of publication is an enormous honour and joy for me. The next round starts at the beginning of March. Reach out for more information or to chat and see if this program is right for you. It’s short, simple, personal, focused, and budget-friendly!
