And then I took a deep breath…
Last night around midnight I arrived in Skopje on my way back to the work in Serbia. This morning I awoke late and took my time in eating breakfast and checking out the day’s news. With my bags packed, I decided to meditate for a few minutes before leaving for the bus station. Despite my claims that meditation is one practice that sustains me in this work, the truth is that it has been almost a month since I last practiced.
I settled myself on the beanbag in my hostel room and took a couple of breaths and immediately I was aware of just how tired – emotionally exhausted, really – that I am and I knew that I did not want to go back to Presevo today. With each breath, I found myself settling into a familiar place of meditation-induced presence and I became increasingly aware of how much I have been missing this quality of being – missing it and also actively avoiding it.
First there was the intensity of work in Presevo. Then a rushed trip to Greece where I immersed myself in a new project to develop products and a supply chain that could more sustainably support the needs of the Balkan migration. The one day to experience Istanbul and some very intense conversation there. Then on to Brussels for what was supposed to be a time of renewal but what turned out to be a time of holding space and supporting healing for my dear Helen. Her badly broken leg needs physical healing and necessitates lots of tangible assistance but it also triggers much deeper wounds and need for healing and serves as a metaphor for much of the pain and suffering in the outer world. So, my time of rest and renewal was occupied in feeling and holding intense grief and sorrow. It has been a couple of months of very intense and emotionally demanding work.
To be honest, though, I wasn’t ready in Belgium to slow down and to deal with all the experiences and emotions that I had packed away. While on “frontlines” working with the people we call refugees, there is no time or opportunity to really be with the emotional impact of the work. Tears were constantly expressing themselves in the most inconvenient manner and I feared that if I really allowed myself to feel fully that they would not stop and I would be unable to do anything useful. In Belgium, I was also very distracted by the Paris attack and the global response to it and I was also busy in conversations about the traumatizing effects of refugee work and the need for healing conversations. My mind was constantly busy, distracted, craving information and action, unable to distance myself from the experiences in the Balkans and from this current time in our human history which feels so full of potential transformation or potential self-destruction. I’ve felt such a need to do something, even if it is only to educate myself and to share information, or maybe to contribute to a different kind of conversation.
Busy, busy, busy… So many important things to focus on, to do, to be a part of… Yet, the reality at the same time is that I had become (and remain) addicted to this busyness, to doing something. It kept my mind occupied and the fullness of my life kept me tired enough that I could always sleep.
One of my recent projects is to support a friend in creating a platform for supporting volunteers of “refugee work” to acknowledge and heal from the trauma that they have witnessed and experienced. This has provided me with opportunity to raise this issue with other volunteers. One of them wrote to me: “Personally I realised that our psyche has been skewed/altered, more than we ever realised. My mind is always somewhere far away. I am struggling right now to even try just by “being present” with family and friends.” Another said: “Taking collective responsibility for the group’s wellbeing; scheduling regular time offs, meditation sessions may be the solution for the burnout, helping people to keep their focus. this was what we seemed to fail in repeatedly as there were so many other urgent things to do.”
All along in this work I have known that people were being traumatized and damaged by what we were experiencing. I’ve known that much of what we were doing was not sustainable on a personal level. And I have also seen the need, felt the desperation in those we served and I have not been able to turn away. I’ve known that it is a gift to be a witness and to hold the space for others to process their emotions. These are urgent times! The bombs keep falling. Planes are being shot down. Terror attacks. Saber rattling. Winter weather. Xenophobic, hate-filled rhetoric even among presidential candidates. And at the same time, there are so many acts of compassion and kindness and a new consciousness of self-organizing collaboration is evident in so many places. It feels like we are at a tipping point – one direction of the other. It feels like there is no time to waste. So much to do.
So much to do, and yet… This need for busyness and for doing is part of the problem, at least it feels that way in my own experience. The faster I go and the more that I do, the tireder I become but the more difficult it is for me to slow down. It is so hard to recognize and prioritize the need for meditation and reflection and for deeply feeling the pain, even when it feels like an unending artisian flow of emotion will erupt if I allow it.
Am I strong enough to do this work? I’ve repeatedly proven to myself that I can do a tremendous amount, that my body will keep going in very demanding times. But I wonder if I am strong enough to slow down, to stop, to breath, to feel, to fully experience vulnerability and impotence. Am I willing to let go of my independence and autonomy long enough to allow those who love me to hold me in my pain? Can I be generous enough to allow others to support and to help me? It feels like this is somehow connected to the challenges that we currently face individually, collectively and globally.
Feeling the gratitude and also the challenge of a day off and for the presence that comes from stillness of listening.
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