Centering in a Time of Uncertainty

We all use different tools to keep us motivated. I rely, in part, on quotes. I liken them to morsels of wisdom that can be used as fuel when you’re in need of inspiration or meditation.

I particularly love those which speak to the nature of activism. Beauty. Struggle. Resilience. Survival.

One of my favorite quotes is Shirley Chisholm’s assertion that “service is the rent we pay for the privilege of living on this earth.”

I’ve penned many variation of this in journals and vision boards over the years. It serves as a reminder of what I believe is an obligation to serve within our communities as best we are able.

The rent we pay.

But I’m going to be honest with you. This past year, I’ve had a difficult time paying that rent.

I’ve found myself tired, unusually disheartened, and in need of uplifting.

I had anticipated that two of my most beloved life callings- teaching and advocacy- would be impacted under a Trump administration. But I was not prepared for how those difficulties would affect my spirit.

I cried myself to sleep on election night 2016. The next morning, I woke to a barrage of texts from family members, colleagues, and a few random acquaintances all grappling to come to terms with how a Trump presidency would impact their communities, and our nation as a whole.

Many things were foreseeable. The uptick in hate crimes. The gutting of social services and violation of immigrant rights. The aggressive undermining of the free press. The misogyny.

What caught many of us off guard was the bold swiftness with which these changes occurred. Immediately following his inauguration, the incoming president began bold and relentless attacks on multiple fronts, attempting to dismantle all that conflicted with his agenda.

The casualties, of course, were demoralizing.

I will not go into detail about the tangible effects that Trump’s policy changes and emboldening rhetoric had on the families I work with. I will say that, I have shed more tears in the parking lot of schools in the past two years than I ever have in my nearly 20 years of teaching.

These years have felt different to me. So much so, that I found myself questioning whether or not I am cut out for a life of service.

This self-doubt was swirling in my mind as I headed to Atlanta a few weeks ago for the National Women’s Studies Association Conference. On the plane ride there, I half-heartedly pulled out my journal. I started to write down thoughts on what I hoped to bring to the conference, and what I hoped to take away.

I barely filled a page. Writing can be difficult when you are feeling taxed.

On the second day, I attended a plenary entitled “Global 1968: A world on fire, remembering 1968 and looking to the future.” The panel consisted of feminists who’d played active roles on the frontline of anti-imperialist, anti-war, and anti-racist movements of the 1960s into the early 70s. Collectively, the panelists had participated in some of the most pivotal social movements of their generation: The Palestinian Liberation Movement, Wounded Knee, the Black Panther Party, the takeover of Alcatraz, and the rapidly evolving women’s movement.

As they seated themselves and made introductions, I was struck by the way each of them reflected on their years of activism with utmost grace. The collective strength between the five of them was a fierce force to behold. Each of them embodied wisdom and compassion in ways as unique and varied as their individual contributions to the movements they’d help shape.

Amidst a free-flowing conversation, they shared advice, laughter, gratitudes and tears. They spoke about organizing, strategizing, hope, and loss.

But the one topic they each circled back to continually was the concept of self-care.

Self care. That buzz word that we’ve come to relate with everything from spa treatments & yoga to breaking free from toxic relationships. Ultimately, we decide what the practice of care looks like to us.

As someone raised by a mother whose spiritual beliefs were largely centered around eastern philosophies and religion, my methods of self care have often been quite basic: meditation, breathing techniques, intentional moments of solitude, and time spent in nature.

Simply put, nothing centers me more than quieting the body and mind. I find that if I can withdraw my energy and attention from the usual turbulence of thoughts, emotions, and sensory perceptions — even if just for a few minutes — I generally feel better equipped to navigate through the day.

This year, especially, I’ve attempted to practice these techniques more regularly- usually in the early morning. Often before I even get out of bed.

It’s why I was so moved when my reliance on these habits was reinforced by the women before me on stage that day. Nearly every single one of them-when asked about self-care- spoke of their proclivity for meditative stillness as a form of self-preservation.

Perhaps the most striking anecdote came from Ericka Huggins, former political prisoner and leader in the Black Panther party, who was charged with conspiracy at age 20. Her husband, John Huggins, had been assassinated on the UCLA campus only a few months earlier. Their daughter was less than a year old.

Huggins recounted how she took up the practice of meditation while imprisoned as a way to cope with the reality of being seperated from her 3-month old baby.

“What could I do? Could I live in sadness, or rage, or anger? I chose not to. I taught myself to reflect. To sit quietly in meditation in that cell that was given to me after I was arrested and charged with conspiracy. I found that even locked away, alone. I am of great value. That every women, locked there in that carceral site, was of great value.”

Her words fell melodically upon an audience fully engaged, and silent. Her words resonated to my core.

There, in that massive conference room among scholars and activists and world-renowned leaders, I felt a renewed sense of peace and purpose.

The strength and direction I’d felt some discord with for the past few months was within me all along.

When I was 18 years old, I recall riding along in a friend’s car when a Lauryn Hill song came on the radio. My friend stopped conversation and turned up the volume. “How you gon’ win when you ain’t right within?” Lauryn crooned.

That line rang in my mind like a call to action for years to come, just as Ericka Huggin’s words will for some time, I suspect.

Self-care in and of itself is a revolution. Generation after generation we are taught lessons on survival; We chant mantras in the streets and whisper affirmations to our young. We learn lyrics of praise and sorrow, and we rally to the rhythm of drum beats whose origins can be traced to our ancestral homelands.

We can sing songs of resistance in the streets, but ultimately the metronome that steadies us is the pace provided by our own hearts. Our relationships with others, and to the world as a whole, is a direct reflection of our relationship with ourselves.

Alice Walker continued the messaging of the importance of inner work during the conference’s closing conversation the following night. “It is essential that each of us learn a practice that will carry us through these times,” she said.

For me, that practice is meditation. Be it through running, writing, sketching, or stillness, I need meditation to remain centered in these tumultuous times.

My reminder to you is this: Don’t get so wrapped up in taking care of others that you forget to care for yourself, love. Even in solitude, you are of great value.

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