EBB & FLOW: PART 2 of 3: EVERY FEEBLE FLICKER COUNTS

Excerts from Chapter 20

It’s a frustrating reality that it’s impossible for many of us to do "great" things or to march enthusiastically into the chaos and bring enough sustenance and hope to eliminate even a small fraction of the suffering. Our limitations and brokenness fracture and immobilize us in so many different ways. During my last battle with depression and massive burnout, I decided that there was no sense in wasting any more precious energy beating myself into oblivion over my inability to do as much as I think I ought to be doing in order to be a viably contributing component of the continuum.

I could not afford to capitulate to futility or apathy. I know now that every single one of us is capable of sowing our own unique tidbits of light and kindness wherever we happen to be, and from within whatever limitations we are struggling against at any given time. The more obvious tidbits include simple gestures like recognizing the presence of another human being instead of counting the cracks in the sidewalk. Speaking a quiet hello instead of passing in silence. Acknowledging with eye contact the beggar on the street instead of shrugging our shoulders and pretending he doesn’t exist. Allowing ourselves in even the briefest of encounters to ripple a tiny flicker of light out into the world. (***see footnote below)

I know it’s not easy. Having been bedridden and housebound by fatigue and anxiety for so long, it was difficult for me to find the opportunity to do even the simplest of those things. I couldn’t get outside to nod my head or speak a quiet hello. And in my darkest moods, or when my mangled thinking convinced me to ostracize myself, I couldn’t make eye contact, or summon enough energy to care about the hungry and poor. So where was my niche in the world then, my opportunity to ripple light, I would ask myself.

There were so many sleepless nights when anxiety and uselessness would wash over me, until one night I realized that there was still one thing I could do, something that would at least make use of those dreary hours in bed. I could pray. Pray for people who had asked me to pray for them. Pray for women and children in grave danger somewhere in the world who didn’t have a voice or didn’t know who to ask for help. Pray for families abandoned without hope of ever escaping the squalor of their refugee camps. Pray for peace. Pray for the soldiers fighting for peace in the battlefields. Pray for friends who were dying. Pray for children being kidnapped off the streets.

For a long time, prayer was all I was capable of giving.

At first it didn’t seem important or nearly good enough compared to the unrelenting neediness of the world around me, but I realized that even that simple little gesture had to be somehow rippling a small shred of light out into the continuum. It can’t be completely void of worthwhile-ness sending genuine care and good thoughts out into the darkness. And if it’s all I can do, then it has to count for something.

I can’t and don’t expect myself, or anyone else, to always be "on" – kind and giving and uplifting all of the time. Fatigue, grief, discouragement, anxiety, time constraints and distractions are a very real part of our daily lives, and we simply aren’t always able to rise above our weary brokenness to extend even that tiniest morsel of life to others. It’s something to strive for, but we must try not to get too discouraged or guilt-ridden when we can’t seem to give as much as we think we should. I think – hope – it somehow all works out okay, coming back to this ebb and flow.

Those of us who can, give what we can when we can. Those of us who can’t give anymore, who are too empty and weary to stretch any further, must find a safe respite for ourselves. We must give ourselves permission to withdraw from the hectic pace of life and accept the help and support that we need from others to replenish and heal ourselves back into the ebb and flow again.

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To Be Continued Monday...


*** Footnote: I acknowledge the predicament that we women, in particular, face in terms of the potential dangers of establishing eye contact or communication with strangers on the street. It’s a sad commentary that we are forced to live and conduct ourselves according to this reality. All I can really say about that danger in relation to my spiel on rippling kindness is that we have to trust our instincts and intuition, and know that our first and foremost priority is to always keep ourselves (and loved ones) safe.