It’s another heavy day, y’all, and by the looks of what is unfolding in the Middle East it’s going to be a long week. And probably well beyond.
A mindset that I have been reminded of in the last hard, heavy weeks, thanks to some loving texts from my cherished friend, Jen Sarduy, is that hope is a discipline. This statement, as far as I can tell, is attributed to Mariame Kaba. I encourage you to check out her abolitionist work.
Hope is a discipline, a practice, and I invite you to consider it. To commit to it. What if we chose to foster, seek, focus on the hope in our lives as a practice. We can choose that every day? Every hour. When we forget, we start again. What if?
The discipline piece is where the real magic takes place. It’s in the coming back to hope when things are hard, when things are triggering, when things feel easier elsewhere, where discipline is required.
Hope is friendship. Hope is changing seasons. Hope is health. Hope is music that you can’t not dance to. Hope is a really nourishing hug. Hope is a good night’s sleep. Hope is a text message from a friend telling you that you are loved. Hope is moving a few inches closer to someone that you love in a moment that you are scared and them holding you tight in response. Hope is a perfect cup of coffee. Hope is lingering, smily eye contact with a stranger in the grocery store. Hope is a teenager surprising you with a joke and a shared laugh. Hope is a warm piece of homemade bread. Hope is you.
On a side note, should you need it, I want to give you permission to delete your social media apps off your phone today, or any day. Or any day. You can put them back on when you have rested if you choose to. You knowing everything that everyone has to say about hard things right now does not change any of it. You are not required to engage in a public discourse, respond to a post, or provide insight. Your nervous system deserves a real break. Give that gift to yourself and to the people around you.
You are doing enough. You ARE enough.
Onwards, y’all.