5 things to say yes to right now

a new series for survival

Hi friends,

I’m here with a new series for you, and it all came about because I recently spent some time with an Indigenous elder. I’ll tell you more of the story soon, but what I want to say right now is that there are things we can say yes to right now.

When there’s a lot going on in the world and we live on social media and news reels constantly, it’s really difficult to make decisions. It’s really difficult to know what to do with our daily life. I think that’s normal, I want you to know that.

Our systems aren’t really made for this, and yet, we pay attention because kinship matters.

So in the midst of all of this, I want to focus in a little on 5 things that are important for the world we are living in and the one we hope to build. I’ll cover these over the next five weeks. In each, I’ll share an essay and ways to connect to ourselves and one another through these different embodiments.

5 things to say yes to right now:

1. The earth’s guidance

2. Our elders’ wisdom

3. Our own liminality

4. The alchemy of art

5. The unknown future

I’m also continuing with Solidarity Spotlight posts, which will come out on (most) Fridays. Please read them if you can; they are about pointing to others who are doing incredible work in the world. This is how we stay connected, inspired, and ready.

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First, say yes to the earth’s guidance.

Someone asked me recently how I handle all of this.

And my answer was something I’ve written about before, a practice that is steady with me. I call it zooming in and out, and I’ve realized recently that it’s really at the heart of so much of my being and my work, and it’s guided by the wisdom of the earth.

There are times we’ve got to be right here, right now. We can’t ignore the things happening in our communities, our country, to our friends and neighbors and kin, to Mother Earth. So we stay present, extremely close to the heart of things.

My dear friend Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg writes all sorts of incredible things based in kinship, care and solidarity, but this one is important for the time we are living in:

There’s a fire there, in the center of it all, and we will probably get singed.

And then, sometimes, we need to zoom out. The wisdom of the earth comes in here—when I’m feeling overwhelmed, my mind creates an image, as if I am being pushed into outer space, floating in the cosmos above the earth.

Photo by NASA on Unsplash

I see her, all of her. I see the arc of time and space. I see all the pain and all the joy, all at once, the patterns we’ve created as human beings. I stay there a while, resting in the presence of the earth, in her ability to hold herself steady in the universe.

She teaches us this kind of presence, the micro to the macro.

She is the home and life blood to the smallest insects and bacteria imaginable, and she is home to oak trees that are hundreds of years old, glaciers that have sustained the test of time, dinosaurs and mammoths, the canopy of the sky, the swell of the ocean, and fields of wildflowers.

She knows what it means to hold presence and space. She knows what it means to be close to the heart of things.

Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash

And here’s what’s interesting about my own zooming in and out experience; I am not less present when I’m floating in space. I’m simply understanding everything from a different perspective. I’m recognizing that as humans we’ve faced war, genocide, hate, colonialism, and greed before. It may not be as it is now, but our ancestors have seen the patterns set before them. And we are, too.

We are all asking what we will give to future generations.We are all begging for healing.

And when I am close up to it all, to the grief and the magic and the mundane, that too, is holy. That, too, is where Mother Earth meets us, asks us to hold steady, to rock back and forth and pray, to gather in the streets, to speak up, to wail and grieve.

She teaches us so much. Can you feel that? Can you understand that?

We need to say yes to her guidance right now.

Segmekwe, our teacher, our elder, our mother, our guide.

Photo by Louis Maniquet on Unsplash

Reflection: use art to explore your relationship to the guidance of the earth. Let it flow out of you as a form of surrender, allowing your emotions, your thoughts, to be funneled into whatever you’re creating.

Some ideas:

• write a poem or series of poems

• create a collage with magazine photos and words

• gather a series of quotes and hang them on your wall

• paint, draw, create digital art

• gather items from outside and hold a gratitude ritual

• gather with a friend and create something together

• write a song

• write a prayer

• beat your hand against your chest in a steadying rhythm and remember the heartbeat of the earth guides you

Photo by Brice Cooper on Unsplash

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• notes from my journals

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I’ve got THREE zoom workshops coming up! Please check them out.

Besides public speaking, these zoom workshops are the best way that I can get a steady income in a career that is sometimes a little unsteady. Plus, it’s literally one of my favorite ways to gather—it’s almost a dare to see if I can gather people in a zoom space and still make it feel sacred and real. We can, and we will!

Please share these events with your community, spread the word, tell them about my work. If you’ve been in these virtual spaces with me, you know I take them seriously. Migwetch!

My events in order:

First, how to be a storyteller THIS FRIDAY!

In this workshop, bring a piece of writing along with you, and we will work in chunks of time, thinking through our writing, seeing it from different angles, and asking questions of the kinds of storytellers we are in the world. It’s a great way to build community!

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Next, I’m holding a number of free sacred spaces for those who are just feeling really heavy from everything happening right now, specifically through the brutality and violence of ICE. If you’re feeling the heaviness or live somewhere that’s being affected, please join us. This space is for your rest. It’s for solidarity and kinship.

Happening Feb 11th:

And lastly, a workshop I’ve been hoping to host for a while now! It’s called The Daily Life of a Writer.

Over the last decade I’ve used so many tools and tricks to figure out my daily life as a writer, and I’d love to share some of them with you! We will workshop ideas for how to build our day and explore different ways to understand the writing life through an Indigenous lens.

This is an evening event! I am hoping that makes it more accessible for folks who work during the day.

Please come join us on February 20th!