Today I am mulling over the idea of Purpose. Like so many of us, I am sitting in a lot of sadness and anger at current events that appear to be fueled by fear and division. I am meditating on what is my part and can I do more. Sometimes I feel like the house is burning down and the yoga and wellness community is lighting sage and making vision boards. I follow this train of thought to understand that point of view comes from my own deep judgment and fear that I am not doing enough and that we are all grappling with our own versions of the same questions. What I believe this is leading me to is the ultimate understanding that dharma, all of our dharma, is always evolving. But at its core is truth.
Like so many people (mostly women), I am currently reading Glennon Doyle’s Untamed. I am reading it slowly. Savoring it, because I know I am in the midst of big change. We all are. To read this book too quickly right now feels like I would be biting off way more than I can chew. I have loved her writing since Carry on Warrior, a book that sparked a desire in me to get my own words back onto paper. I am reading this one thirsty for the connections and the lessons. There is so much there- love, truth, mothering, courage, fear.
I am not willing to finish reading this book until I am willing to excavate some of my own truths. And that feels hard. And really, really big.
So some days I don’t even pick it up. Avoidance is a tried and true strategy. It sits there next to my bed, obviously ignored for Netflix or Instagram, but holding space nonetheless with its pretty cover, just patiently waiting and knowing. Some days I’ll race through several chapters. Others it's just a poignant paragraph or two. Fodder for meditation.
More on that later, but the reason I bring Glennon up is a quote of hers from way back that struck a chord in me when I first heard it and one I return to over and over again. It’s about Purpose. I’ve never struggled looking for a single purpose. If anything I feel utterly devoted to so many (maybe too many?) things that I wish I had more lifetimes. Regarding purpose, Glennon says,
“Figure out what breaks your heart in the world. That’s your purpose. Find the folks working to fix that thing and join them.”
A lot of things break my heart in this world. Too many.
But perhaps the thing that always hits me the hardest, breaks my heart the most, and leaves me wondering if I am doing enough, is injustice and racism. It always has. It’s why I became a lawyer. It’s why I clerked for the Death Penalty Project. It’s why I have supported the Innocence Project, The Southern Poverty Law Center and the ACLU all my adult life. Why I always will. But I am always left wondering, is it enough? And it’s probably not. My gut and my heart are telling me that.
There have been far too many horrible examples of late that human beings can be the very worst. That as humans, white humans, we have failed over and over again to evolve, to learn lessons, to be brave and do better. I recently read a paper Dylan (my seventeen year old daughter) wrote comparing the Emmett Till Case of 1955 with the Trayvon Martin Case of 2012, the conclusion being that we have not yet learned. In the time between when she started writing that paper and when she turned it in, Ahmaud Arbery was killed. And then just yesterday yet another black man, George Floyd, was murdered by law enforcement.
This is what breaks my heart.
And, yet, some humans are the very best. The helpers. Those of you reading this now. I am grateful for an era of social media to not only shine the light on previously swept under the rug injustices but also to shine the light on awesome humans heeding the call to create change, seek justice, mobilize. If you don’t already, consider following @shaunking and @grassrootslaw. I have been inspired and humbled by their relentless work in seeking justice, as well as grateful for the naming other incredible people and organizations in this fight.
I have been meditating on this a lot during this COVID time. A lot of us are using some of this moment in our history to question our paths, despite the very real stressors of staying afloat with the financial impact a pandemic can have.
I am sitting with swirling thoughts of school tuition and mortgages as well as the deepest questions of true love and purpose.
Recently, a random yoga teacher I only know peripherally, made a comment on a fairly benign post I made. The post was asking when or if people would be coming back to group classes when clubs and studios opened. She ran off with a tangent that said when clubs open, she hopes teachers will keep opinions and politics out of the room. I kindly told her that I respect her opinion, but that she definitely would not like my class. I can’t leave everything out of the room. Can you? The yoga room is not an empty vessel. All of our humanity, pain and joy comes with us. To ignore the outside world feels like a denial of truth. If teaching yoga was just about physical poses or fitness, would we keep showing up? I certainly wouldn’t. And I definitely wouldn’t teach it. I am not meant to be everyone’s teacher, and that is fine. Nor is she. Isn’t it beautiful that there is room enough for us all?
I loved being a lawyer. And I love being a yoga teacher. This week we will marry the two. The full amount of the proceeds of my classes the week of June 1 will be donated to Southern Poverty Law Center and The Innocence Project (scroll to the bottom to watch Archie WIlliams). And I will match whatever amount we raise. This is where, for me, yoga and activism merge.
It is not enough anymore to not be racist. We must be anti-racist and be louder, way louder about that. Our own humanity demands it.
While I continue to sit in not knowing exactly what the future holds as far as next steps, I have to do something. And if you join me that week, you will be doing something too.
Thank you thank you thank you.
Glennon asks what breaks my heart. Unchecked racism breaks my heart. Cruelty breaks my heart. Ignorance breaks my heart.
Not living my complete truth breaks my heart.
I am still sitting in the unknowing of exactly where that will land me, but I remain grateful to all of you for being a part of my path.