Making a Plan to Not Fall Apart

or at least holding on while we do

I could tell you that I needed to write this post because of the impending election chaos (in more than one country) and terror that seeps into our homes, in our social media feeds, all over the world.

To be certain, I’m recognizing that putting a plan for care in place for the coming weeks is essential.

But also, it seems, we’ve stepped into another one of those visceral moments of being human.

Terror, hate, white supremacy, racism, colonialism—it’s always there, always doing its work in and around us. But lately we feel the fear of a world in pain—women and their allies protesting in Iran and worldwide, anti-semitism making a rise in America as elections draw near, Brazil’s elections and what it means for Indigenous peoples, the Amazon, and the world, Native American Heritage Month looming with the threat of losing the Indian Child Welfare Act, and COVID possibly on the rise again as the holidays loom near.

I can be a fairly optimistic person, but also, fear is quite possibly my greatest downfall, my kryptonite, the thing that gets me fallen to my knees and unable to find a way back to myself or anyone else.

So, in an era of fear, what can we possibly do to not fall apart?

I’m taking some inspiration from a film I watched with my family a few days ago called Fine Lines. Directed and produced by Dina Khreino, this tender and beautiful documentary chats with 20 different adventurers and asks them about their personal relationship to fear, risk, and the thin line between life and death and what it means to live a life of meaning.

A few people in the film who really impacted me were Steph Davis, climber and base jumper, Lai Chi Wai, motivational speaker and sport climber, and Maureen Beck, world-renown paraclimber.

Steph Davis shares about the grief of losing her partner while jumping, and how that grief motivated her to ask what life really means and what meaning she can make of it along the way.

Lai Chi Wai shares about getting hit by a car that left him in a wheelchair and what it has meant to pivot and go on the journey of asking who he is as a climber as life changes.

And Maureen Beck, who was born without a left hand, talks about what it means to be an advocate for the disabilities community while being a badass, award-winning climber and athlete.

When I feel really afraid of what the future holds or if I can handle it, I remember the horrible, gorgeous complexity of the human spirit. I remember that there is so much we cannot control, and so we must simply ask along the way what it is we are in control of.

The reality is, what we think is so personal about us is actually what is so universal about us—our grief, our love, our hate and our joy, our fear.

It is all, somehow, the very thing that tethers us to each other, to life, to death, to all of it.

So, how do we possibly make a plan to not fall apart?

I can, most of the time, control my breaths and find a way to steady myself.

I can control how I respond to certain situations.

I can control what boundaries I set in my life to maintain my health.

I can control how I show up present to a moment.

I can control how I show up to solidarity work in the world.

But, like Steph Davis, Lai Chi Wai, and Maureen Beck, I have to recognize that I can’t control everything. Life will keeping happening, and the scary shit will keep showing up in the midst of an incredible week or a horrible one.

I think that maybe we should be okay with the reality that we just might fall apart at some point, but if we do, we’re not alone in it. Maybe we decide that as things fall apart, we take note of the things we will need on the other side, or in the deepest depths of the pain.

At one point in the film while talking about BASE jumping, Steph says, “There’s so much attached to safety and sustainability in terms of being careful and trying to provide for what you think might happen and taking a lot of precautions, and then there’s also just luck. And to me, it’s kind of just 50/50 and that goes for everything in life.”

Is it terrifying to think this way? Maybe. But it also allows us to loosen our grip a little, to embrace some of that unknown, and to know that we belong to one another’s human experiences because of this lack of control.

So hold on, friends. And really, try to make a plan for when things fall apart, so that you’ll have what you need, when you need it.

Mine starts with protecting my energy, choosing where I can use my gifts most powerfully, and being present during this next election cycle.

Where will you begin?

---

November is coming, which means it’s almost #NativeAmericanHeritageMonth. What I love about the month is what I dread about it: the attention on Indigenous people. I love that we get to celebrate and name who we are for NAHM. But I also love who we are all the time.

I love that people are paying attention, but sometimes it gives people a pass to think they can invade our DMs, demand labor from us, or create shallow, performative posts about Indigenous people without doing the work of relationship and repair.

That’s why I am hosting an event that’s about US, for US. It’s called “Indigenous Resistance & the Power of Dreaming” and I’m so honored to join Dr. Twyla Baker, Dr. Amanda Tachine, and Sierra Teller Ornelas for this conversation.

From the description: "Often during NAHM, Indigenous people don’t get to talk about daily rhythms of work and care, what it means to resist, and complexities of resilience. This conversation is a space to reflect and lean into that care for past, present, future generations."

So we want to have an hour for one evening to enter into the beautiful complexities of these conversations, our identities, and the hope that future generations give us to keep doing the work we're doing.

Spots are filling up, and I hope you’ll join us on Tuesday, November 1st! RSVP here.