peace through practice
writing through the mess
I recently attended a lecture with psychoanalyst Polly Young-Eisendrath at the Jungian library thanks to the care of my dear friends Nyssa & Kelly. And something Polly said rung me like a bell:
“Peace is the goal, but the path cannot be peace.”
Practices towards liberation, love, and peace often require us to endure extensive amounts of discomfort. Those of ya’ll practicing activism, ancient traditions, ceremony, or earth teachings know this already. Yet, there is still a persistent modern tendency to pathologize difference, avoid conflict (except in the comment section), and shirk real relational accountability. This way of being, I’m pretty sure, only leads to isolation. We can’t thrive in isolation, and thus this kind of external avoidance of discomfort actually leads us to more discomfort and ultimately destruction.
The issue is that our desires are actually that deep. We can’t replace our longing for belonging and the abundance of a thriving village with amazon finds and IG stories. We need more than the suggestion of connection looking at a screen—we need true, embodied connection and the quaking in our boots that comes with uncertain mundane interactions that also hold life-changing possibilities.
Yes, it is scary to navigate the world right now and trauma is often unavoidable—we will break bones and make mistakes—but collective care and repair is a practice we must choose. One way forward can be to look back, to remember our ancestors—their practices, and our ancestors themselves. Honoring the struggles they faced, and also the practices that brought them joy, allows me to participate in my own living lineage in a transformative and enduring way. We can be resourced by the many lives, which gave possibility to ours.
Peace is the goal, but the path may be intensive. Leading with love (the radical kind, for all living creatures) requires vulnerability in relationship, and rigor in resistance at this time. It requires discipline, and equal parts grace. It requires a dedicated awareness to the ways we’ve been shaped by hierarchical and destructive systems we actually don’t want to carry forward anymore through our actions and bodies, and instead a commitment to try something else, which requires a humbling amount of being in the uncomfortable space between. It requires practice.
”It’s messy yes, this mess is mine.”
- Did You See The Words, Animal Collective 🎶
Ever since I started writing on this platform, part of my ethos has been allowing the mess. To allow the possibility that I don’t have to make a great point, or prove myself worth reading. Rather I wanted to loosen form and allow my writing to explore feelings and interests, trusting the practice of writing itself to lead the way.
As of late I’ve been preoccupied with transition—in the process of letting go and being let go from a job that was a foundational part of my life for the past 5 years. I’ve also been solidifying new dreams to study and teach politicized somatics, and to work for myself as an independent contractor. I’ve also been grappling with the uncertain job market in our disaster capitalist economy during a fascist takeover. No big deal! But in all seriousness, naming this reality really helps to affirm how overwhelming this time is to navigate.
During this unwinding, I noticed a narrative I was holding onto that I would “get back” to writing (and ultimately to myself) once there is less going on, once my work transition is complete, and once I have a more clear vision for my future. While it makes sense to be preoccupied with logistics, I also knew I was missing the point. Creative force should not be reserved for a more simple and resolved future point in time. Creativity activates exactly what I need to get to that future point.
The story beneath a story of avoidance is one of survival. It is the same with my avoidance of my own power and creativity. Avoiding myself has gotten me through hard times. It’s worth tending to our survival. The ways our body-minds have taken care of us is life in motion, and that holds lots of wisdom. It is paramount to shy away from simplified narratives of right and wrong, and instead de-pathologize our tendencies. The path of peace is not always peaceful.
In this time I’m noticing how my body responds to the buzz of uncertainty, to the alarm of feeling strapped for resources—what times I freeze or when I keep running on empty. The times I tell myself that frolicking through creative avenues is a luxury I cannot afford and in doing so I strip myself of something essential to my own resilience. Practice. Pleasure.
Practicing with my desires, practicing the life I yearn for, practicing creation is not only something I deserve, it’s something that guides me on my path to peace. Not that we always need to push ourselves towards something greater. Sometimes what I really need is to pause for a trail snack and let all the living catch up to me!
Some of my favorite writing has been done in times when I am totally unsure what direction to go in. And frankly, I’m probably going to continue to be pretty uncertain about many things in this lifetime—as empires fall and the earth eats them up. As a writer, it makes sense to keep writing through the mess. This mess is ours after all.
I’ll try my best to keep practicing, and I hope you will too. The path to peace is paved with muddy feet my loves.
Walking beside you,
Renee
P.S. I’m starting a free, 30 minute somatic practice space every week on Friday at 10 am ET! Sign-up here to receive the Zoom link. It’s a low-pressure space you can join as frequently as you’d like to slow down and take stock of your body moods*, with communal support.
*thanks to my creative writing pal Forrest for honing this powerful phrase
So good. Recognizing my avoidance as survival is a powerful reframe to help me lean into creating the life I long for while the whole world is crumbling around me. <3 Thank you.