In a moment #82
I’ll be honest. I struggled with what to write these last few weeks. Each time I would sit down to write, inertia. The words elusive. The message unclear.
And so rather than forcing it. I waited.
My block became clearer late last week. I recognized this feeling that was clouding my vision.
Grief.
That heavy yet amorphous feeling that consumes the spaces it finds. This surfacing emotion, a product of so much of the last few weeks. I started to draft a list of all the things that were weighing on me, which I’ll spare you from here. I imagine you have your own ticker tape of headlines, fears, anxieties, realities racing through your mind at any moment.
However, once I was able to name what I was feeling, I was better equipped to navigate my way through. I’m no stranger to grief, like so many of us these days, and I’ve luckily amassed some tools along the way for moving through this particular feeling. For me, I know it’s a feeling that requires a lot, it needs space, the space to emerge, to be felt, to be experienced. And one of the best places for me to process grief is near water.
I remembered after my dad died in 2020, taking daily walks to the pier near my apartment. I would make quick strides, almost racing to get to the water’s edge, because I knew once I arrived, I’d be able to breathe a bit more easily. There’s something about seeing vast expanses of water, to see something so much larger than myself, or the big feelings I was consumed by. It allowed me to soften. To let go a bit.
And so this past Sunday, we went to the beach. It was a warm January day, the sun breaking through the clouds from time to time. We sat on the beach, and I looked out. I looked at the horizon where the sky met the sea. Nothing obstructing this view — no buildings, no cars, no ships, no objects. Just water and air for as far as I could see. And I breathed deeply. I felt comforted by the vastness of this space. I listened to the steady rhythm of the waves. I felt the wind on my cheeks, cold, but tempered by the warmth of sun rays shining down.
On the drive back home, an idea came through. Something that I could share with you today. I was reminded of a screenprint that a past colleague gave me a few years ago. It’s a simple white card that says “What Good Shall I Do This Day?” in bright pink, block letters. I have it hanging above my writing nook. It’s that reminder that each day holds an opportunity. An opportunity to put some good back into this world.
And so I offer this same to you, “What good can you offer this day?” It can be the small kindnesses of saying hello to a neighbor or buying someone coffee. Donating to a mutual aid group in your neighborhood or enrolling in a legal observer training to support your community. There are so many simple ways we can put good into a world that seems to be losing it by the day.
💗 + ✌🏻