It’s almost spring. The days are getting longer and warmer. The sun is sometimes shining. Even though the rain continues to fall…that’s the thing, right there…The sun is sometimes shining…while the rain persists.
How unfair that spring comes every year, no matter what is happening in the world, and expects us all to remember that we still have work to do. She is not deterred by the endless despair that exists on the earth. Spring blows in with purpose and reminds us that we, too, must rise.
It’s hard these days to know which tragedy to worry about or focus on. There seems to be no limit to the ways humans will hurt one another. Last week, the U.S. started another war. We, the people, weren’t consulted. This, on top of an exhausting year of ceaseless uncertainty and unimaginable trauma for so many living within the borders of this country and throughout the world.
Yet, here spring stands with the audacity to flaunt her glowing beauty, the promise of new adventures, inviting us to meet the day; insisting we never forget that she comes every year, without fail, to kiss us with the sun, and bless us with the blooms of trees and flowers.
How dare she?
Hope is a verb. But action requires energy, and right now, the energy needed to fuel your hopeful actions may be in short supply; particularly if you are a helper, a healer, a caregiver, or a change-maker who holds space every day for the fears, grief, disappointments, and traumas of others.
This month, I thought the most helpful thing I could do with this space would be to share resources, wisdom, and creative genius from others whose light may help illuminate your path, fuel your tank, or allow you to permit yourself to rest for a bit. Below you will find a collection of links to organizations you can support through donating, sharing, or volunteering, and some resources to support your much-needed rest, things to read when you need some reflecting, or some suggestions for having a little fun with like-minded people (in person or online)! And a few videos to remind you that music and laughter are essential for our survival!
Ways you can contribute:
Immigrant Legal Resource Center Red Cards
Portland Immigrant Rights Coalition
Whistles and Zines w/Migra Whistle
Opportunities in March to Build Community & Have Fun:
Parent & Caregiver Support Group at Westside Queer Resource Center
The Bechdel Set: An Inclusive, Feminist Comedy Show
Free Radicals Monthly Online Community Gathering
For When You Need a Little Grounding or Inspiration:
Mountain Meditation by Jon Kabat-Zinn
This classic meditation created by Jon Kabat-Zinn invites us to remember that we are not required to sway with each gust of wind, with the change of seasons, or every tourist’s expectations. Mountains remain as they are and do what they are created to do.
Love, Power, and Liberation w/Angela Davis and Lama Rod Owens
This discussion took place in Oakland, CA, following the 2024 Presidential election. Find more resources for surviving in uncertainty and grief at www.lamarod.com.
Reading is good for the soul:
Take some time to read and reflect. Also, if you are reading things that are giving you hope, helping you grieve, or simply providing a welcome distraction, please share!
Spring in War-Time
I feel the spring far off, far off,
The faint, far scent of bud and leaf—
Oh, how can spring take heart to come
To a world in grief,
Deep grief?
The sun turns north, the days grow long,
Later the evening star grows bright—
How can the daylight linger on
For men to fight,
Still fight?
The grass is waking in the ground,
Soon it will rise and blow in waves—
How can it have the heart to sway
Over the graves,
New graves?
Under the boughs where lovers walked
The apple-blooms will shed their breath—
But what of all the lovers now
Parted by Death,
Grey Death?
Still I Rise
By Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Books to remind us there is nothing new under the sun:
“I keep thinking about the march I joined today. It’s bigger and stronger than war. That’s why it will win. The people must be the ones to win, not the war, because war has nothing to do with humanity. War is something inhuman.”
― Zlata Filipović, Zlata’s Diary: A Child’s Life in Wartime Sarajevo
To refuse to participate in the shaping our future is to give it up. Do not be misled into passivity either by false security (they don’t mean me) or by despair (there’s nothing we can do). Each of us must find our work and do it. Militancy no longer means guns at high noon, if it ever did. It means actively working for change, sometimes in the absence of any surety that change is coming. It means doing the unromantic and tedious work necessary to forge meaningful coalitions, and it means recognizing which coalitions are possible and which coalitions are not. It means knowing that coalition, like unity, means the coming together of whole, self-actualized human beings, focused and believing, not fragmented automatons marching to a prescribed step. It means fighting despair.”
― Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches
“And what she hated more than anything that moment was for all the differences between people to matter no more – no more differences in size and belief- differences that became justification for destruction.”
― Ursula Hegi, Stones from the River
“We’ll have to be very careful how we allow our needs to shape us.”
― Octavia E. Butler, Parable of the Sower
And don’t forget to sing, dance, and laugh:
Erin Mahone, LPC
Therapist and Clinicial Supervisor