It’s Easter Sunday on April 10, 2020. Arguably *every* human on earth is currently affected in some way or another by one common experience.
This year the mythology Easter—death, grief, and hope that life will somehow emerge from behind the veil—have new bite. Whether you ascribe to the traditions that celebrate Easter traditionally or like me are just a lover of good story, this day in this year especially, is chock full of meaning.
The words that have been cycling in my mind over the last few weeks have been “Am I willing to let this pandemic change me?”. What have I been holding onto that this is asking me to let go of? What am I afraid of that has actually happened because of this shitty experience? Who is this pandemic asking me to help? How is this time asking me to die to what I thought life was going to be like, and rise into accepting what it actually is? What shift that I’ve been avoiding now is inevitable?
Some of us need to face our addictions.Some of us need to let go of our rigid grip on a politic and embrace the grey. Some of us need to shed the internal banter that we’re not enough. Some of us need to wake up to our indifference to the suffering of others. Some of us need to see how our activism disregards other’s real fears of change. Some of us need to just sit down and shut the fuck up, and listen for once in our lives. Some of us need to finally speak up.
In my experience, change happens internally, but it’s always cost me something. It’s never been free. I had to lose my family, a marriage, and my ability to drink like other people for me to face my deepest fears and the things that kept me addicted to alcohol. But here on the other side, I wouldn’t give any of it up. The growth was worth the pain.
May you all be held safe as we risk.
May you all have some peace and also the willingness to be unsettled.
May you all have some much needed love, from within and others.