sitting with the muck of it
how I ground into presence when the world feels dystopian
Greetings from my neighborhood coffee shop in Kyoto. I’m at my favorite perch: a single table on a second-floor balcony, with the perfect balance of sunshine and shade. I watch as the bustle of everyday life happens below, acutely aware that I’m on reluctant display. Every so often, people point up towards me and exclaim, pausing to take photos of the stunning, traditional Japanese building the coffee shop is housed in.
Perhaps I enjoy this spot because it feels like an apt metaphor for life lately. I feel like a lone audience member to a theater show…a circus, really. I don’t understand the news. I don’t understand how basic human rights and safety—for trans people, for children, for people with uteruses—are still up for debate. I don’t understand how some people still aren’t getting the point. There is so much cognitive dissonance swirling around my head…it’s impossible to capture in the confines of this tiny newsletter. And so, I have decided not to. I’ve decided to watch the chaos happen below, in the safety & peace of my caffeine-fueled refuge.*
What I can share with brevity & clarity is that I’m currently moving through a period of heavy anxiety. The type of anxiety that upends your nervous system, portals you into nightmares of past trauma, and makes you catastrophize about the future. I even feel anxious that I feel anxious. I thought perhaps I should wait before I write you—until these dense emotions have passed, until I understand the lessons from this moment. But this morning I watched a small dog ride in the basket of a bicycle, with a tiny dog-sized visor on their head. I took in the beauty of a spiderweb that looked more like a modern art piece fit for a museum. I said hello to a friend who happened to find refuge here too. These things I experience in this earthly plane ground me into the truth that real life is happening right here, right now—not in what I read on the internet, nor in the past or future, and certainly not in the worlds anxiety can create.
What is real? My breath. This human body. The limited time I have left on earth. The sheer beauty and magnificence of our planet. The love I share with my friends, family, and community. The kind interactions I have every day with strangers. Zooming into these seemingly small details is helping me cope with suffering that is currently only living in my imagination.*
Grounding into my present reality, I realize it would be a disservice not to share my process of moving through the muck. I’m no stranger to shadow work—and I want to share that I don’t think it ever gets “easy”. Easy is simply not the nature of this work. I’m also thinking about how not everything has to be “work.” We don’t need to mine every experience for wisdom or higher meaning, especially when we’re in the thick of it. Sometimes the “work” is simply to surrender, to feel, to care for yourself deeply.
Healing is rarely wrapped up neatly into a bow. It’s non-linear, never complete, and difficult to encapsulate in words. And perhaps the healing is in the mess, in the muck, in the grime and the compost and the dirt. If you’re in the thick of it with me, you’re not alone.
Some of the many things that have brought me light lately:
Belting “LET THE RAIN FALL DOWN, AND WAKE MY DREAMS!”, a Hilary Duff classic, as I let the rain wash over my face on a drizzly day in Arashiyama.
Eating 16 mochi in one day (with the help of my partner), and giggling at our mochi count for days after our feast.
Putting my phone away to spend quality time in nature. Our world is filled with so much ratchet energy, and it can be hard to know what to trust—when in doubt, you can always trust nature’s messages.
Belting my heart out at karaoke (Japanese karaoke rooms are next level) and remembering the power and beauty of my voice.
Finding sanctuary in my daily energetic practices: morning meditation, yoga, and writing writing writing. All ways of processing what I’m experiencing, and releasing it from my body. This meditative talk by Thich Nhat Hanh on the simple practice (yet profound power) of breathing in and breathing out brought tears to my eyes.
I leave you with this one-hour video of red pandas eating crunchy snacks, brought to you by the Oregon Zoo (🫡 thank you for your service, Oregon Zoo). Breathe deeply and be well, until next time.
*Notes: Expanding on the line, “I’ve decided to watch the chaos happen below, in the safety & peace of my caffeine-fueled refuge.” I am referring here to my spiritual peace in this current moment in time, but not to action our world desperately needs in this larger collective shift. There are so many causes that need our attention right now—please research the ones that call to you, and take action that aligns with your gifts, resources, and bandwidth 🫶
Similarly, regarding “suffering that is currently only living in my imagination,” I am referring to the suffering of my own personal anxiety—not the lived suffering that is currently taking place around the world.
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