5. Silence, betrayal, and changing the world.

I’ve been listening to a new podcast called “Buddhist Solutions to Life’s Problems,” It’s not many episodes, but they are potent and accessible to anyone who isn’t entirely familiar with Buddhism. I’m getting a lot out of it. The most recent episode is called Can I Change the World? It seems incredibly timely even though it was released on January 31st. Even before there was this particular global pandemic, there have been countless worldwide crises vying for our attention. On January 31st, this episode spoke of a few: mass shootings, flawed criminal “justice” procedures, and others. Less than two months later, we find ourselves surrounded by people asking, can I change the world?

If I stay inside my home, can I change the world?

If I evacuate my college campus, can I change the world?

If I stop crossing international borders, can I change the world?

What can I do to make sure that the world goes from a place of immense disease and immeasurable panic to a place that once again feels normal if not safe?

The answer, for many of us, is frightening. We just don’t know.

Those who have dedicated ourselves to the work of uplifting and supporting others, of bringing about such lofty goals as justice, equity, and peace, have at least on some level decided that the world can and should change. Before this pandemic, we decided that we could change the world, in our own little way, and we set out to do that. In the midst of this pandemic, we continue to try. We continue to create spaces to soothe the collective consciousness out of mass hysteria and into calm. We are more forthcoming with our time, our energy, our resources and our gifts. Speaking for myself, I have figured out how to do things in real time, learning how to lead healing workshops online through the process of leading healing workshops online, because suddenly the excuse that something seems challenging or I’ve never done it before doesn’t seem like enough.

Exactly one year before his assassination, Martin Luther King, Jr. made a speech imploring Americans to mobilize against the Vietnam war:

“There comes a time when silence becomes betrayal”

has been ringing in my ears, consciously and subconsciously, as measures to contain the spread of COVID-19 have become more drastic.

The heartening thing is that I have not seen much silence. I’ve seen community organizers, yoga teachers, spiritual healers, artists, and everyone in between show up and show up loudly. I’ve even seen people whose work has nothing to do with uplifting others, every day people you wouldn’t expect, show up in incredible ways. I’ve seen people advocate for the right for their colleagues to stay home from work, offer shelter to evicted undergraduates, and honestly just participate in the simple act of staying inside for their own safety and the safety of others. We’re all going to have to be a little more generous, a little more understanding, and a lot more compassionate, and it seems like we are.

The thing that worries me is that I don’t know how long this will last. That’s what I’m working on right now. I need to get more comfortable with the uncertainty of knowing that I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit some of the people I love most. I need to get used to the idea that virtual friendships, virtual therapy sessions, and virtual classes are the underpinnings of my interaction with other human beings. After growing up learning that screens were nothing compared to “real” human connection, I guess I’ve got some unlearning to do.

This podcast episode explored the ways in which every day people, like Mr. Rogers and Rosa Parks, affected monumental change by living their lives authentically and out loud. I’m trying to keep in mind that that’s all I can do as well, that’s all any of us can do. Right now, my authentic, out loud life is happening on the internet, and even though it’s difficult I’m trying to remember that there’s nothing sub-par about that. In fact, that’s the best thing for me and for everyone else. I’m trying to have gratitude for the internet as a concept and for the internet as something I have ready access to.

Part of exercising this gratitude is showing up on the internet in ways I haven’t before. Part of exercising this gratitude is knowing when it’s time for airplane mode because I’m lucky enough that the internet will always be there tomorrow. The trickiest part of exercising this gratitude is that I feel like I’m trying to simultaneously distance myself, build connections, hold space, take space, and retain some sense of normalcy. It’s a delicate balance. And that’s what I’m working on right now.