Category: inspiration

Spell for Grief or Letting Go

For those of us grieving today’s election results, re-living trauma, feeling terrified, heavy-heartedly unsurprised while still in shock and disbelief, feeling at once invaded yet also abandoned, feeling ravaged yet unseen.

adrienne maree brown gifted us this spell for grief, for letting go ― both of which we might need, but also to nurture the strength to keep up the fight where it matters.

“This is a nonlinear spell. Cast it inside your heart, cast it between yourself and any devil. Cast it into the parts of you still living. Remember you are water. Of course you leave salt trails. Of course you are crying.

Spell for Grief or Letting Go – adrienne maree brown

Adequate tears twisting up directly from the heart and rung out across the vocal chords until only a gasp remains;

At least an hour a day spent staring at the truth in numb silence;

A teacup of whiskey held with both hands, held still under the whispers of permission from friends who can see right through ‘ok’ and ‘fine’;

An absence of theory;

Flight, as necessary;

Poetry, your own and others, on precipice, abandonment, nature and death;

Courage to say what has happened, however strangling the words are…and space to not say a word;

A brief dance with sugar, to honor the legacies of coping that got you this far;

Sentences spoken with total pragmatism that provide clear guidance of some direction to move in, full of the tender care and balance of choice and not having to choose;

Screaming why, and/or expressing fury at the stupid unfair fucking game of it all (this may include hours and hours, even lifetimes, of lost faith);

Laughter, undeniable and unpretended;

A walk in the world, all that gravity, with breath and heartbeat in your ears;

Fire, for all that can be written;

Moonlight – the more full the more nourishing;

Stories, ideally of coincidence and heartache and the sweetest tiny moments;

Time, more time and then more time…enough time to remember every moment you had with that one now taken from you, and to forget to think of it every moment;

And just a glimpse of tomorrow, either in the face of an innocent or the realization of a dream.

This is a nonlinear spell. Cast it inside your heart, cast it between yourself and any devil. Cast it into the parts of you still living.

Remember you are water. Of course you leave salt trails. Of course you are crying.

Flow.

P.S. If there happens to be a multitude of griefs upon you, individual and collective, or fast and slow, or small and large, add equal parts of these considerations:
– that the broken heart can cover more territory.
– that perhaps love can only be as large as grief demands.
– that grief is the growing up of the heart that bursts boundaries like an old skin or a finished life.
– that grief is gratitude.
– that water seeks scale, that even your tears seek the recognition of community.
– that the heart is a front line and the fight is to feel in a world of distraction.
– that death might be the only freedom.
– that your grief is a worthwhile use of your time.
– that your body will feel only as much as it is able to.
– that the ones you grieve may be grieving you.
– that the sacred comes from the limitations.
– that you are excellent at loving.

Sending love and strength.

every day a new sky

A year ago, I traded the narrow grey skies of New York City for the blooming vastness of my hometown’s sunsets. Then I found myself bobbing and weaving through the Dutch canals reflecting sea-like rainclouds on my cruiser bicycle with the blue basket tied to the front. I didn’t set out to seek new and different spaces to occupy, but life’s little ship granted me temperate weather from the bursting spring of the New Jersey suburbs to the apple cider season of upstate New York to the strangely warm winter of Texas to the budding summer of Amsterdam.

Starting with my time in New Jersey at the very beginning of lockdowns, I went for walks every day. On those walks, I thought about how lucky I was to be able to take walks. On days when it seemed that absolutely nothing was happening in our immediate surroundings within the walls of our homes but also everything was collapsing outside, I would wake up knowing that I would walk, and then I would go to sleep knowing that I had walked. For some reason, this tiny purpose made me feel a sense of direction during a decidedly directionless, uncertain time. Then when I returned to Texas, I decided to start photographing the sky. Every day, for one year, I took a photo of the sky; sometimes it was while running, sometimes it was clumsily with one hand on my bicycle handlebar and one hand aiming at the sun. Sometimes I forgot to post, but it gave me a reason to look upwards every single day. It prompted gratitude, sometimes awe. Even when it was raining, even the day it snowed in Houston, even when the power went out. Even while devastated by the country’s and world’s politics, disasters, and climate change- what better reminder of the need to stay engaged, to fight for change, than our determined and steadfast sky? Today is the one year anniversary of the project. I hope the photos provide you a bit of peace to browse through, and a reminder to look up.

We have been treading water, starving for togetherness while also forgetting how to be in the company of others. I remember thinking often: I don’t feel lonely, is this a privilege or a curse?

What did we allow in, when none of us should have been allowed out? I recorded my dreams in a notebook next to my bed, and some moments when nostalgia knocked at the door I let its muscular hope overtake me, quietly and then loudly and all at once.

Here, across the ocean, we comfort each other with little remnants of home; but what is home? Of course just like those who keep running from something or towards another, I want to say (and believe): different geographies cure us. But no, time runs just as quickly here and days pass just as slow. Moving doesn’t cure loneliness, it just gives it a different color, it gives it a different sky.

Activites and suggestions for COVID-19 coronavirus quarantine time

I’ve been compiling a list of things we can do together while living apart. I’ll keep this updated! Stay safe, miss you, but there are lots of ways we can keep socializing while maintaining a healthy distance. These are just a few of the things I’m trying.

Virtual Social Activity and Work Ideas

  • Regular on-nomi (digital happy hours with friends)
  • Weekly virtual TED Women in Tech happy hours on BlueJeans/Zoom (h/t Claire)
  • How people are using Zoom outside of work via Morning Brew
  • Virtual Pomodoro sprints with Superorganizers on Zoom (h/t Dan Shipper)
  • From tinyletter writers: We’re All Stuck At Home But We Can Still Be Brilliant – a Google Sheets collection of personal projects that can be done at home
  • Virtual book clubs – one method is Book Club by Numlock, but lots of fun manual ways to do this too!
  • Play Codenames board game – free online – Codenames Green
  • Netflix Party Chrome Browser Extention to watch Netflix with friends Netflix Party
  • Create a Slack private instance for asynchronous group chatting with friends!
  • Daily noon meditation on the Waking Up app (free 30 day trial) with a group of tanguero friends (h/t to Avik and Robin) – you can create a group on the app to facilitate regular meditation.
  • Daily writing prompts as a group!
  • Learning fun choreography virtually (yesterday we worked on Ciara’s Level Up)
  • Cook new recipes!

The Arts

Free Exercise / workout offers

Wellness / Mental Health

Addendum March 22, 2020:

From all of us at TED:

  • TED is running a daily series of conversations with wise minds such as Bill Gates, Susan David, and Gary Liu.
  • TED Ed at home is launching to support students, parents, and teachers affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. Sign up to stay updated.
  • TED Circles allows you to watch TED Talks and engage with your friends 100% virtually!