I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet around me
like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places where I left them
asleep like cattle.
- Wendell Berry, “A Timbered Choir”
I’m a community care coach. One of my goals is to always help my clients situate themselves in the community - caring for others and receiving care themselves. But there are certain tensions that arise with that focus.
One tension is that, in the extremely extraverted culture of colonized Turtle Island (also called the United States), community members can feel a tension between their love of the community and their need to withdraw, to rest, to spend time contemplating and reflecting.
Metabolizing the Big Stuff
A client and I talked about this recently. As we explored together, the client mentioned that they are pretty gifted at thinking holistically, about big systems with lots of moving parts.
It occurred to us that when we are gifted at metabolizing large concepts with many facets, like Disability Justice or Palestinian Liberation, we need space to reflect. We need some quiet to let our thoughts and feelings gel.
Then my client and I came to a realization together:
The community is actually well-served by supporting each of us in reflective and quiet time.
Why? Because when we come back, we have new insights to share and new energy to enact our ideas.
ID: A photo of a meandering river among fields and forest. Creator: Stuart Anthony. Used with Creative Commons license.
Meandering
Contemplation and reflection are meandering, non-linear processes. They do not respond well to a direct and imperative command. Telling our psyches, “Quick! We have 20 minutes between appointments to reflect, digest, metabolize - get to it!” is not terribly effective.
Instead, our psyches like to amble through the library, picking up titles of interest and putting them back down. They like playing an open-world video game, trying things out. They enjoy wandering to places we used to hang out, letting memories come back. They like to drive at night with the baby sleeping in the backseat and our favorite music playing, singing along. They often like naps, a cozy place, and a slow meal. Daydreaming, sketching, flipping through a book with pictures, watching a favorite movie … why do these help us eventually, slowly, wrap our minds around life’s large and thorny issues?
There are different ways to frame why this works. In terms of the human nervous system, our parasympathetic nervous system - the system in charge of our “rest and digest” functions - depends on our brain receiving messages and input over time that we are safe, that we have time and space, that we do not need to perform, rescue, or be “on task.” Our systems need a balance between action and rest; they just work better that way.
In terms of imagination, allowing our minds to wander allows us to make connections, gain perspective, and access other relevant experiences.
ID: A photo of an old metal climbing gym in an overgrown playground with children playing and trees in the background. Photos copyright 2012 Tom Gill, used with Creative Commons license.
Playgrounds of the Mind
For instance, perhaps an organizer, Shavonne, is thinking about how to make a direct action more accessible and more creative. But they are feeling some burnout coming on.
They talk about this in a chat message with another organizer, Ashes, who encourages them to dip out of an optional meeting in order to take some time. Though Ashes feels some urgency about the things that need to be done, they are committed to supporting their fellow freedom fighters in their need for reflection and down-time, knowing that the community is never served by burning out its people.
Shavonne decides to take a short drive to see their childhood home. Driving by their old school, they remember a sunny day on the playground when their group of friends all decided to lie down on the ground together, pretending to sleep (though with quite a bit of giggling and chatter). Other kids saw them and decided to join them. The playground aides were very confused. The kids could never answer exactly why they did it; it just seemed like a fun idea at the time.
Driving back to the planning meeting, Shavonne decides to propose a similar action - a lie-in or a die-in for the next Palestine action. Shavonne knows quite a few people who are not able to march a long way, but they might be able, especially with care from the group, to lie down on the ground and get up again. In addition, the dramatic action of lying down - perhaps covered by white sheets - feels like it will represent and witness the horrific deaths going on in Palestine. Whether or not the planning group decides to go this route, Shavonne feels a greater connection to the work and a renewed capacity to listen and collaborate.
ID: a screenshot of the cover of the book Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto by Tricia Hersey. The cover features three blocks of color stacked vertically: from the top, purple, yellow, and blue. Silver block letters spell out the title and author's name.
Both/And
Once again, the community is actually well-served by supporting each of us in reflective and quiet time. This is why we need to be careful of extraverted expectations seeping into our communal spaces to the detriment of the need for quiet, rest, and contemplation. Let’s work together on a both/and approach: room for action and contemplation.
PS: The Nap Ministry and its communal nap-ins are a compelling example of the kinds of culture we could build in movement spaces. Want to join me in reading Rest Is Resistance by Tricia Hersey in the next month? How do you rest and let your psyche meander? Coffee with friends? A long walk? Let me know in the comments.