In Case of Emergency

During a conversation with a coaching client this morning, we were discussing the different vibe of MeWe, where I am beginning to hold my online writing groups. It's quieter, visually more streamlined, with no ads, no fundraisers, no suggested groups or sponsored posts yelling at you to sign up or join or buy this or that. She was observing that in some ways, she was missing the noise, in a "where did the party go" kind of way.

The contrast really highlighted just how accustomed many of us have grown to subjecting ourselves to a near constant stream of content, headlines, and often alarming developments, not to mention each other's reactions to these. The ripple effect and the impact our our individual nervous systems is so monumental. What has happened over the past decade to our collective ability to sift through information, to process and absorb, to effectively analyze what we're reading, and to hear our own thoughts?

This morning, I saw an article someone I follow and trust implicitly posted on Facebook. I reacted immediately to the headline, which was, as many headlines are, click-baity, meant to be alarming. I groaned audibly before I'd even opened the link. Once I did, I read the article out loud to Mani (we were driving to my dermatology appointment).

As I read, I noticed the shift in my body; this was not, in fact, an emergency. It was useful and concerning information, yes, but also nothing particularly new. I also noted the news outlet, verifying that it's one I believe to be credible.

But multiply this times many headlines per day, seven days a week, 52 weeks a year, year in and year out. Our systems cannot take this without numbing out or becoming totally frazzled and frayed. We owe it to ourselves and each other and those we will never meet who are in this global mess with us, so much of which our country bears a disproportionate responsibility for causing and perpetuating, to slow down, sift through, and sort out what we are reading, who is reporting it, and how we are responding.

I say these things in the context of being a empathetic, thoughtful, creative human who cares deeply, as I know you do, about the current trajectory we're on both nationally and globally. I work with people who care so much they are paralyzed, who take in so much they are in a state of fight, flight, freeze, or fawn more of the time than not, all while also needing and wanting to tend to their own families, communities, and interior lives.

This perennial question weights on me: How to achieve anything like balance between being an engaged, awake citizen and a person who requires -- as I would argue most if not people do -- some semblance of quiet in order to optimally function and authentically contribute?

There is no simple or singular answer to this question, a question that may feel more pressing and urgent than ever and that has also existed for eons. And so it is on us, to prioritize spaces where we can really listen to ourselves, check in so as not to check out, and remember the sound of our own breathing bodies.

Burning out serves no one, and if there is one thing we know accelerates burnout, it's living in an ongoing state of adrenaline and fear -- which is exactly where the powers that be want us. There, we can be more easily manipulated and coerced into condoning policies that cause undue harm, especially to the most vulnerable among us.

One of the most responsible things we can do as humans right now, and as creators of all kinds, is practice stepping away from the fray -- not as a way of disengaging, but on the contrary, as a path to protecting sustainable engagement.

This may not put out any fires in Australia, affect the incarceration rates of African-American men, lead to gun legislation, or make the drinking water in Flint potable again. But it will certainly return us to our capacity to think clearly, organize effectively, remain open to our own shortcomings, and together move towards the kinds of actions that we so desperately need to manifest.

How does this look in your actual life? Please share. Let's learn from each other.