Acts of Love

From my conversations with friends and colleagues this past week, I know that many of us are uneasy – at a minimum – about the state of the world. Whether it’s war, politics, civil liberties and human rights, the economy, the environment, AI, or something else, reality seems to be shifting under our feet, and it can be hard to even catch our breath, let alone know where we stand.

The rational part of my brain says what’s happening is, in some ways, natural. Nature is full of cycles of death and rebirth. History shows us that the pendulum swings periodically towards new ideologies and world orders. Empires rise and fall. Most of us (in the Western world) have known relative peace and prosperity for the past 80 years. We have been very lucky compared to other parts of the world that have not known this. It would have been unnatural for the pendulum to stop swinging.

The emotional and survival parts of my brain, of course, tell a different story. I feel a sense of deep pain for all the suffering that there is in the world. I feel anxious for my own future, as I realize more and more that when I retire in 20-30 years, the world will likely be a very different place to how I know it now, and that it’s almost impossible to plan for the long term. And I feel a bit helpless about what to do about all of this.

Different people I know are responding in different ways. Some people are mobilizing. (For an inspiring example of this, check out the free coach-matching service that Kyle Dietrich and Kristen Cordell are offering for people affected by recent executive action and workforce reductions in the US – you can sign up to be a coach or coachee here. I also read an article that Michael Bloomberg is leading an initiative through Bloomberg Philanthropies and other U.S. climate funders to ensure the US meets its global climate obligations, including covering the funding gap.) Other people are so overwhelmed that all they can do at this point is remove themselves from the conversation and look after their mental health. Still others are finding themselves frozen, wanting to do something but not sure what.

In Oliver Burkeman’s new book Meditation for Mortals, he shares a quote about how living life is like driving in the dark with your headlights on. You can only see as far as those headlights go, but you’ll get to your destination eventually. That’s a good metaphor for how I’m thinking about my own response – doing the next right thing, as illuminated by my headlights. Right now, I’m focused on helping people find ways to come out of reactivity and center and ground themselves, so that we can meet the challenges ahead with a different energy. Over time, I’d love to be part of bigger efforts to help heal the divisions that are tearing us apart, but rather than force it now, I’m trusting that the opportunities will emerge and make themselves clear as I keep steering forward in the dark.

If you’re feeling a bit helpless about what to do these days, remember that you can always choose acts of love. It may seem insufficient, but we risk underestimating the ripple effects of such care, kindness, and attention in a world where people feel threatened, angry, and overwhelmed. I love this poem by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer – which she just published yesterday – for the soothing effect that it has on me when I read it. Beyond being good for their own sake, acts of love are the building blocks on which we build our collective strength to take on bigger challenges. As we head into Valentine’s Day weekend, perhaps see how many times you can make the choice to respond with love and see what happens next.

About Friday Pauses

We can all sense how a lack of presence in our daily life affects the quality of our relationships, our ability to form real connections – and yet we struggle to set aside distractions. In my Friday Pauses, I want to encourage us all to do just that – pause for a moment and feel what it’s like to be present by reading a poem.

If you’re new to Friday Pause, here’s what I suggest:

• Minimize or close other screens.
• Put your phone on silent.
• Close your eyes and take a full breath in…and out. Maybe count to four on the inhale and six on the exhale.
• Read the poem below – out loud, if you can. It will slow you down and help you feel the words more.
• Take another deep breath in…and out.
• Resume your day.