One thing I'm thinking about this week is that it's the 4 year anniversary of the official COVID quarantine/lockdown in the Bay Area. Our bodies remember this trauma, the bewildered feeling is alive in so many ways inside of me. When I'm feeling like this, somatically, emotionally, existentially - I try to turn to nature for solace. Currently writing a lyrical essay about talking to trees. Even the act of writing it, of visualizing my hands on a tree, has been soothing.
What an important point. It's so interesting because last night my sister wife and I did a walk around the block with the kids after dinner, something we did all the time during the pandemic, and were talking a lot about how reminiscent it was of that time. Maybe my body knew that before my brain!
Thank you for your willingness to open up painful parts of your life —-e.g. your father’s situation and your bewilderment - to public view. I believe learning to embrace our vulnerability is an essential part of maturing. There’s a lot of freedom in realizing that nothing can kill your deepest Self unless you let it—-realizing that an open heart isn’t dangerous. Most of us spend too much energy protecting ourselves from hurt or bewilderment or absence of control. It’s wonderful to finally see that it’s okay to let them into the guest house of your life, to see each as a messenger versus a weakness. You have a special way of sharing the discomfort of being ‘fully human’.
I think Glennon Doyle calls this something like 'writing from the muddled middle,' the potentially helpful-to-the-reader practice of capturing a mid-point in a journey sometimes, full of the uncertainties of journey, rather than reporting out only from a more resolved, better understood point.
In education one sometimes sees the word 'formative' for reports from the middle and 'summative' for reports from the end of a loop.
In reference to the question of cog versus force for change or for better, I think the fairest way to look at any of us is that we are probably both, ineffective or neutral in some ways and making a difference in others. None of us can take on everything in an effective way. I think the most heartful practice is to ask ourselves with some regularity but not obsessively whether we are taking on some of the actually hard things we are equipped to take on or whether we tend to leave that to others. But none of us can work on every hard thing.
Most of us in the last decades of our lives have been in the position you describe of worrying about taking care of aging and maybe demented parents who live far away, even as we have kids of our own and jobs. The tradeoffs are hard. The first question, of course, is whether your parents would be better off moving close to you that staying put. Some people have a support system and services where they are living that are richly anchoring for them, leaving them unmoored if they were to leave. Others would be much happier near their adult kids. It is a hard time of life all around.
Thank you for this: "I think the most heartful practice is to ask ourselves with some regularity but not obsessively whether we are taking on some of the actually hard things we are equipped to take on." Very wise, as always.
Thank you for writing about feeling bewildered. I am trying to figure out what I can do to preserve what is left of our natural world for our children and grandchildren. Looking back at my own innocent childhood in the 1940s, and could walk to the public library or play in the woods behind our back yard with my friends or siblings, I never thought about violence or danger.
Nothing to ask, but I am pleased because I went to a bookshop on Monday and asked a bookseller to pick out a book for me, and the book she picked was MARTYR!, which I'd never heard of, and wasn't even sure of as I was purchasing, but if I hadn't bought it, I would be KICKING MYSELF right now after reading this message from you, and now, instead, I'm just quite excited to pick up my new book. So thank you for that. I hope you feel better soon. I am grateful your your words, ideas, curiosity, and wonder.
Oh, let me know what you think! I am particularly confused about the coda, so would love to hear from someone who also read it about how they thought the coda was functioning in the book. It's got SO much gorgeous writing in it.
My library hold on Martyr! just came through, I'm excited/nervous to start it- so glad to hear of others reading it! I've been escaping into a romance book so this might be a little jarring after that, but I'm gonna read it anyway! I don't have a question, I'm just thankful every time I hear someone express feeling muddled or pulled between selves/worlds...it really helps to know we're not alone even if it doesn't "fix" anything.
What's helped you to make some measure of peace with living moderately far from your family? I've lived about 6 hours from most of mine for the past 11 years, and at times it really eats at me. But I've formed deep relationships here over the last 11 years, so even if I were to move back to where I grew up, I'd always be far from some version of "family." I think the part that gets to me is that I have a good relationship with my family, and so many others don't, so sometimes I wonder why I would voluntarily live far from them (obviously there are reasons I live where I do, but I still wrestle at times with this)?
And on a lighter note, what's your favorite gentle but not fluffy read? Reading is what I do when I feel sad and disconcerted and anxious, but for me they often have to be gentler reads, so I'm always on the lookout for suggestions.
Mmmm, love these questions Kelly. Some measure of peace -- that my parents are by the sea, holding hands while they walk on beaches, in a peaceful place that they chose and love. And that I am surrounded by amazing chosen family, including cohousing neighbors, friends, organizer buddies, school community peeps. I have such a rich relational life.
I'm not so good at the gentle but not fluffy read. I did enjoy Pineapple Street recently - a novel with lots of humor in it, though it is about class, and Yellowface, a satire about the publishing industry and racial politics etc. I read poetry for gentle--Ada Limon, especially.
I like your emphasis on the things your parents have chosen where they are that bring joy and goodness into their lives, and the things you’ve chosen where you are that bring joy and goodness into your life. My parents love living 5 minutes from my mom’s twin whose husband is one of my dad’s childhood friends. And I love the found family I have where I am.
What’s on my mind? GAZA! Yes, intense grief of the kind that Courtney eloquently describes is overwhelming; yet, as Courtney realizes, the suffering of entirely innocent people on the scale that’s now being experienced in Gaza consumes me.
More than at any time since Alzheimer’s took my younger brother. How can we here in America possibly justify our engagement in such hideous violence? Please join me in protesting this madness! DD
First, I am so sorry for the loss of your friend. I have huge respect for you, Courtney, but I have to take exception to your calling the war in Gaza a ‘genocide’. Being a left-leaning lifetime liberal myself, and having been disenchanted with Israel on many occasions, and feeling every bit as devastated by the ugliness of war as you do, I still came to see things very differently as I educated myself on the new realities since October 7th. When you are feeling better, please take a look at Joshua Hoffman’s blog, “Future of Jewish” and consider what you find there. Wishing you strength and healing.
Thanks for the recommendation, Amy. I will check it out at some point.
To be clear, this is the definition of genocide: "the deliberate killing of a large number of people from a particular nation or ethnic group with the aim of destroying that nation or group." I know there is controversy over the numbers, but it appears uncontroversial that over 1,000 people were killed in Israel and upwards of 30,000 people have been killed in Gaza and that the vast majority are non-combatants, women, children. That, whatever you call it, is devastating.
As a Jew and one who has visited at least three Holocaust museums, I was aware of the definition of genocide that you provide, Courtney, hence my objection to your using the term. We agree that war is devastating, but this is just that -- a war, started by Hamas on Oct. 7. There is no intention to wipe out the Palestinian people. To the contrary, it is the oft-stated intention of Hamas to destroy Israel and ALL JEWS.
(excerpts from Jamie Paul’s guest essay, “The New Genocide” in the March 17 Future of Jewish newsletter)
Here is what genocide meant until five minutes ago:
“U.S. federal law defines genocide as ‘violent attacks with the specific intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group.’”¹
Definitions vary slightly from source to source, and many legal scholars and historians disagree about its precise meaning, but broadly speaking, genocide refers to mass killing done with the intent to wipe out a particular people. The term was coined during the Holocaust as a way to distinguish crimes of such unimaginable magnitude from other kinds of atrocities.
We apparently have a new and improved definition. Things that are genocide now include:
Any civilian deaths
Dropping bombs that kill civilians
The use of unguided bombs
“Indiscriminate” bombing (“Indiscriminate” has undergone the same hyperinflation.)
Lopsided casualty ratios (i.e. one side suffers more deaths than the other)
Lopsided casualty ratios where one side is a state and the other a non-state actor
A militarily superior force fighting a militarily inferior force
A wealthier country bombing a poorer country or territory
Killing 10,000 or more people (regardless of intent or context)
Destroying large numbers of buildings
Destroying infrastructure
Destroying cultural artifacts or culturally important sites
Any war crime
Any violation of international law
Ethnic cleansing (which itself has been redefined as “any time people have to flee from their homes”)
Obstructing aid or supplies (i.e. a siege or blockade)
Prioritizing military victory over maximal avoidance of civilian casualties
Destroying the “concept” of a Palestinian people (i.e. saying Palestine is not a country, even though it is not)
Anything a U.S. soldier protests via self-immolation
War is, indeed, hell. And much of what goes on during war is horrible, which is why preventing wars in the first place is so important. When Hamas broke the ceasefire to massacre, rape, and mutilate 1,200 people on October 7th — and kidnap some 250 others — they initiated a war.
Every day that passes without Hamas’ surrender — every day that they continue fighting and firing rockets — Hamas is continuing it. The death of civilians in any conflict is a tragedy, and there is always more than can be done to minimize it.
We can be saddened, horrified, appalled, or angry about it. But it happens in every war, especially in urban warfare. Pretending this equals genocide (and just in this one instance) is grotesque, incredibly dishonest and, yes, antisemitic. (end quote)
Over 30,000 Palestinians have been killed. Hundreds of thousands are starving and suffering the consequences of displacement and war. It is so painful to read someone questioning the use of the term genocide.
One thing I'm thinking about this week is that it's the 4 year anniversary of the official COVID quarantine/lockdown in the Bay Area. Our bodies remember this trauma, the bewildered feeling is alive in so many ways inside of me. When I'm feeling like this, somatically, emotionally, existentially - I try to turn to nature for solace. Currently writing a lyrical essay about talking to trees. Even the act of writing it, of visualizing my hands on a tree, has been soothing.
What an important point. It's so interesting because last night my sister wife and I did a walk around the block with the kids after dinner, something we did all the time during the pandemic, and were talking a lot about how reminiscent it was of that time. Maybe my body knew that before my brain!
Yes. Our bodies definitely are the keepers of time!
I've been thinking about that anniversary a lot this week too.
Thank you for your willingness to open up painful parts of your life —-e.g. your father’s situation and your bewilderment - to public view. I believe learning to embrace our vulnerability is an essential part of maturing. There’s a lot of freedom in realizing that nothing can kill your deepest Self unless you let it—-realizing that an open heart isn’t dangerous. Most of us spend too much energy protecting ourselves from hurt or bewilderment or absence of control. It’s wonderful to finally see that it’s okay to let them into the guest house of your life, to see each as a messenger versus a weakness. You have a special way of sharing the discomfort of being ‘fully human’.
Well if this isn't the most generous comment and reminder I needed today, I don't know what is. Thank you so much, Sandy!
I think Glennon Doyle calls this something like 'writing from the muddled middle,' the potentially helpful-to-the-reader practice of capturing a mid-point in a journey sometimes, full of the uncertainties of journey, rather than reporting out only from a more resolved, better understood point.
In education one sometimes sees the word 'formative' for reports from the middle and 'summative' for reports from the end of a loop.
In reference to the question of cog versus force for change or for better, I think the fairest way to look at any of us is that we are probably both, ineffective or neutral in some ways and making a difference in others. None of us can take on everything in an effective way. I think the most heartful practice is to ask ourselves with some regularity but not obsessively whether we are taking on some of the actually hard things we are equipped to take on or whether we tend to leave that to others. But none of us can work on every hard thing.
Most of us in the last decades of our lives have been in the position you describe of worrying about taking care of aging and maybe demented parents who live far away, even as we have kids of our own and jobs. The tradeoffs are hard. The first question, of course, is whether your parents would be better off moving close to you that staying put. Some people have a support system and services where they are living that are richly anchoring for them, leaving them unmoored if they were to leave. Others would be much happier near their adult kids. It is a hard time of life all around.
Thank you for this: "I think the most heartful practice is to ask ourselves with some regularity but not obsessively whether we are taking on some of the actually hard things we are equipped to take on." Very wise, as always.
Thank you for writing about feeling bewildered. I am trying to figure out what I can do to preserve what is left of our natural world for our children and grandchildren. Looking back at my own innocent childhood in the 1940s, and could walk to the public library or play in the woods behind our back yard with my friends or siblings, I never thought about violence or danger.
I'm with you. Let's keep learning and acting together.
Nothing to ask, but I am pleased because I went to a bookshop on Monday and asked a bookseller to pick out a book for me, and the book she picked was MARTYR!, which I'd never heard of, and wasn't even sure of as I was purchasing, but if I hadn't bought it, I would be KICKING MYSELF right now after reading this message from you, and now, instead, I'm just quite excited to pick up my new book. So thank you for that. I hope you feel better soon. I am grateful your your words, ideas, curiosity, and wonder.
Oh, let me know what you think! I am particularly confused about the coda, so would love to hear from someone who also read it about how they thought the coda was functioning in the book. It's got SO much gorgeous writing in it.
It sounds promising that you're confused, seeing as what you've suggested the novels take on certainty is...
My library hold on Martyr! just came through, I'm excited/nervous to start it- so glad to hear of others reading it! I've been escaping into a romance book so this might be a little jarring after that, but I'm gonna read it anyway! I don't have a question, I'm just thankful every time I hear someone express feeling muddled or pulled between selves/worlds...it really helps to know we're not alone even if it doesn't "fix" anything.
What's helped you to make some measure of peace with living moderately far from your family? I've lived about 6 hours from most of mine for the past 11 years, and at times it really eats at me. But I've formed deep relationships here over the last 11 years, so even if I were to move back to where I grew up, I'd always be far from some version of "family." I think the part that gets to me is that I have a good relationship with my family, and so many others don't, so sometimes I wonder why I would voluntarily live far from them (obviously there are reasons I live where I do, but I still wrestle at times with this)?
And on a lighter note, what's your favorite gentle but not fluffy read? Reading is what I do when I feel sad and disconcerted and anxious, but for me they often have to be gentler reads, so I'm always on the lookout for suggestions.
Mmmm, love these questions Kelly. Some measure of peace -- that my parents are by the sea, holding hands while they walk on beaches, in a peaceful place that they chose and love. And that I am surrounded by amazing chosen family, including cohousing neighbors, friends, organizer buddies, school community peeps. I have such a rich relational life.
I'm not so good at the gentle but not fluffy read. I did enjoy Pineapple Street recently - a novel with lots of humor in it, though it is about class, and Yellowface, a satire about the publishing industry and racial politics etc. I read poetry for gentle--Ada Limon, especially.
I like your emphasis on the things your parents have chosen where they are that bring joy and goodness into their lives, and the things you’ve chosen where you are that bring joy and goodness into your life. My parents love living 5 minutes from my mom’s twin whose husband is one of my dad’s childhood friends. And I love the found family I have where I am.
I love Ada Limón!
What’s on my mind? GAZA! Yes, intense grief of the kind that Courtney eloquently describes is overwhelming; yet, as Courtney realizes, the suffering of entirely innocent people on the scale that’s now being experienced in Gaza consumes me.
More than at any time since Alzheimer’s took my younger brother. How can we here in America possibly justify our engagement in such hideous violence? Please join me in protesting this madness! DD
First, I am so sorry for the loss of your friend. I have huge respect for you, Courtney, but I have to take exception to your calling the war in Gaza a ‘genocide’. Being a left-leaning lifetime liberal myself, and having been disenchanted with Israel on many occasions, and feeling every bit as devastated by the ugliness of war as you do, I still came to see things very differently as I educated myself on the new realities since October 7th. When you are feeling better, please take a look at Joshua Hoffman’s blog, “Future of Jewish” and consider what you find there. Wishing you strength and healing.
Thanks for the recommendation, Amy. I will check it out at some point.
To be clear, this is the definition of genocide: "the deliberate killing of a large number of people from a particular nation or ethnic group with the aim of destroying that nation or group." I know there is controversy over the numbers, but it appears uncontroversial that over 1,000 people were killed in Israel and upwards of 30,000 people have been killed in Gaza and that the vast majority are non-combatants, women, children. That, whatever you call it, is devastating.
As a Jew and one who has visited at least three Holocaust museums, I was aware of the definition of genocide that you provide, Courtney, hence my objection to your using the term. We agree that war is devastating, but this is just that -- a war, started by Hamas on Oct. 7. There is no intention to wipe out the Palestinian people. To the contrary, it is the oft-stated intention of Hamas to destroy Israel and ALL JEWS.
(excerpts from Jamie Paul’s guest essay, “The New Genocide” in the March 17 Future of Jewish newsletter)
Here is what genocide meant until five minutes ago:
“U.S. federal law defines genocide as ‘violent attacks with the specific intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group.’”¹
Definitions vary slightly from source to source, and many legal scholars and historians disagree about its precise meaning, but broadly speaking, genocide refers to mass killing done with the intent to wipe out a particular people. The term was coined during the Holocaust as a way to distinguish crimes of such unimaginable magnitude from other kinds of atrocities.
We apparently have a new and improved definition. Things that are genocide now include:
Any civilian deaths
Dropping bombs that kill civilians
The use of unguided bombs
“Indiscriminate” bombing (“Indiscriminate” has undergone the same hyperinflation.)
Lopsided casualty ratios (i.e. one side suffers more deaths than the other)
Lopsided casualty ratios where one side is a state and the other a non-state actor
A militarily superior force fighting a militarily inferior force
A wealthier country bombing a poorer country or territory
Killing 10,000 or more people (regardless of intent or context)
Destroying large numbers of buildings
Destroying infrastructure
Destroying cultural artifacts or culturally important sites
Any war crime
Any violation of international law
Ethnic cleansing (which itself has been redefined as “any time people have to flee from their homes”)
Obstructing aid or supplies (i.e. a siege or blockade)
Prioritizing military victory over maximal avoidance of civilian casualties
Destroying the “concept” of a Palestinian people (i.e. saying Palestine is not a country, even though it is not)
Anything a U.S. soldier protests via self-immolation
War is, indeed, hell. And much of what goes on during war is horrible, which is why preventing wars in the first place is so important. When Hamas broke the ceasefire to massacre, rape, and mutilate 1,200 people on October 7th — and kidnap some 250 others — they initiated a war.
Every day that passes without Hamas’ surrender — every day that they continue fighting and firing rockets — Hamas is continuing it. The death of civilians in any conflict is a tragedy, and there is always more than can be done to minimize it.
We can be saddened, horrified, appalled, or angry about it. But it happens in every war, especially in urban warfare. Pretending this equals genocide (and just in this one instance) is grotesque, incredibly dishonest and, yes, antisemitic. (end quote)
Over 30,000 Palestinians have been killed. Hundreds of thousands are starving and suffering the consequences of displacement and war. It is so painful to read someone questioning the use of the term genocide.