Joy

In a Time of Global Meltdown

As promised, I have managed to pull myself out of that much-needed moment of meltdown and do the work required of us all, not to stick it to the man or fight any supposed “good” fight but to creatively navigate through the apocalyptic narratives being offered up so regularly these days that so relentlessly attempt to keep our hearts broken and despite the very real horrors of these times, find joy. And wouldn’t ya know it, as I write these words, I do indeed feel joy! I am smiling. I am well rested and at peace.

How did I do it?! you might be asking. Well the same way a body builder acquires a Herculean physique. The same way an excellent musician is able to perform a complicated masterpiece. The same way a mother is able to get a crying baby to sleep. Through discipline and consistent, loving effort. When we are children, blissfully unaware of the terrible truths that come with living, happiness comes easily. As we age though, “education” and life’s inevitable losses slowly attack our enjoyment and all too often we allow bitterness, exhaustion and fear to prevent us from keeping lit the flame of intoxicating love for being alive. But Joy is still possible.

When my daughter was born, it was the peak of the COVID lock down. I was in Thailand, and from the looks of things, it appeared from afar that my fellow countrymen back in the States were about to head into a civil war. As it was for many at that time, it was all too much for me and I fell into despair. Yet I knew I had to find a way to not let the little daily deaths keep me from seeing the beauty still being offered in each moment in countless magical ways. In these uncertain times, when everyone is displaced and awkwardly trying to find home, it is still possible to find kindness in the most unlikely of places. We must remember this. We must seek this and better yet, we must BE this.

The miracle is not the flower growing through the concrete, it’s the forgotten soul of the concrete and all its enslaved components-none of whom asked to be mined out of their native context to become trampled concrete-but who even so, that far removed from Nature, can still hold a wild flower. That is the real miracle.

-Martin Prechtel

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To be sure, humans are losing their ability to be beautiful, to have fun and be joyous. People are tired, sick, and afraid. It makes sense. No shame in any of this. Yet, as a father, I knew, when looking in my daughters eyes when she was but an infant, that it would be my most important mission in my life to train myself to be happy even in a time of climate catastrophe and global societal meltdown, both for her benefit and for the benefit of all life.

This last week, in my hometown of Springfield, Illinois, another black woman was killed by a white police officer. She did nothing wrong. Later in the week, arguably the worlds most evil man, Benjamin Netanyahu, the guy responsible for actively orchestrating genocide in Gaza, was welcomed with open arms by the U.S. congress. This last week the world also experienced the two hottest days in recorded history. A peer-reviewed study published today in the journal Environmental Health Perspectives has found that per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, or PFAS, known as “forever chemicals,” are increasingly being added to U.S. pesticide products, contaminating waterways and posing potential threats to human health. I could go on. And on and on and on. The world around us is clearly falling apart. We must be honest with each other about how real this truth is, cultivate visionary creativity, organize and act. And yet, so too must we remember how to be happy. Regardless of how awful things seems to be, life is still a miracle, and there are infinite ways to come into contact with this Truth. Developing a capacity to be happy in the face of despair, to find beauty amidst the ugliness of modernity is post-activism at its finest.

I’ve received several emails recently from readers asking me to define “post-activism”. I am reminded of my mentor, Martin Prechtel who I have studied with for over ten years now, who has never just offered me an answer. And in (not) doing so, he inspires me to look deeper, to explore from other angles, to view everything as a riddle. To learn how to approach the yearning, the mystery, the complexity. Sometimes I never find the answer to the specific question I originally pose but in the process of trying to solve the riddle, I learn a thousand other things that seem to always carry with them more importance than what I had initially deemed so crucial. With this in mind, I too will avoid giving a straight answer but instead will say this, that the term “post-activism” first came to me while listening to Bayo Akomolafe speak. His words seemed to unlock something ancient and new in me, something I had been investigating my whole life came into view, something I was unaware till then that I was seeking. And all of it had to do with love, grief and praise. I must encourage you all to explore the works of both Martin Prechtel and Bayo Akomolafe. Listen less to the anger of todays mainstream dialogues and treat yourself to a gentle reminder of who we are beyond the noise. The answer to this question lies in the cracks.

Post-Activism looks very little like the 60’s-esque activism we tend to think of today when we here of protestors marching in opposition to war. Although I was disgusted by Netanyahus blatant disrespect for those protesting genocide, I do feel deep in my weary bones that the ways in which we gather, with the well-intended hopes of making systemic change are far from what is most needed now. Post-Activism has less to do with marching and holding signs and more to do with embodying the unimaginable, of doing the unthinkable, of resting in times of urgency and staying committed to making natural beauty when mainstream “culture” is suddenly more interested in consuming synthetic mediocrity. Post-Activism in these strange days bubbles up mysteriously in the most unlikely of places, choosing happiness when everything seems morose, deciding to fall in love when suddenly love is deemed old-school and out-of-date.

Yes. I cried when I received the news of Sonya Massey, the 36-year-old black mother fatally shot in her home. I always cry when I hear of such things. To not do so is to admit defeat. We must grieve the loss of what we love. And not only was Sonya a fellow American, a fellow human, a fellow parent, etc. but she was from my home town. Sadly I have many memories of violence and racism when I recollect my time spent in the “Land of Lincoln” and I wasn’t all that surprised when I received the news. The KKK has a long history in Springfield, Illinois. Growing up, my black friends were regularly placed in jail for the very same crimes my white friends got away with merely because they had a differing skin color. It would be easy for me to dwell in despair and anger or grow numb and pretend none of this is happening. Yet Activism offers a third way. It doesn’t suggest we cut ourselves off from any of these emotions and reactions entirely, but encourages us to look deeper, to think like a trickster, to view the phenomenon as would a spaceman viewing the earth from outer space. What else is going on here???

Yes. I felt scared when I learned that the world yet again topped the charts with the hottest days in recorded history. And for sure this is related to war and our obsession with using chemicals, etc. It’s hot. It’s so friggin’ hot now. I hate to think of where this is all heading. And it is downright shocking how little Kamala or Biden or Trump or anyone in power anywhere in the world for that matter addresses this issue. It is WILD! As a farmer, I have a front row seat to how serious an issue this is, and let me tell you, this situation is SERIOUS. I guess as a world leader you are too far removed from reality to know, always consumed with more important things like “the economy”. Well, regardless the reason, the fact is, our planets soil is dying. And here is some breaking news for the modern world that never touches earth; No healthy soil, No life. GAME OVER. Can anything be more dire than the proposed Project 2025? or the ongoing genocide? Yes, in fact, there is something more dire: our planet is dying. This ought be of more concern than anything else. Hands down. Yet with all this information swarming about my brain, info that could easily cripple a man, I choose not to dwell in an anxious spiraling storm of fear, instead looking to the same soul-serving miracles that have kept countless traumatized ancestors alive for millennia. Give thanks. We are fortunate ones.

If we are going to make it through these times, we are going to have to train ourselves to be happy. Yes, it takes work. Unless you are a toddler, you will probably need to approach this the same way you approach pursuing any other thing you value. You have to work at it. If you spend one hour a day doomscrolling, staring into a 2 dimensional screen learning about war, than you must spend at least two hours a day gardening, walking in a forest, meditating or playing with children, immersing yourself in the multi-dimensional world of actual, sensual life. Let your eyes fully absorb the pulsing beauty of the real world, the moonlight on a leaf, a raindrop on the back of an ant, the soft kiss of sunset. If all you have is a flower on your dining room table, that is more than enough. Look deeply at her. Breathe. In, out. If you spend an hour a day writing letters to congressmen to change laws, you need to spend at least twice as much time each day embodying here and now the world you hope to see should those laws change in your favor. Do what you can with what you have, this is what hope is.

At the peak of my depression, a few years ago, I would literally stand in front of the mirror and practice smiling. I did this every day. Eventually smiling came more easily. So I started practicing smiling at strangers. Once I grew more comfortable with that, I started smiling at people who made me feel uncomfortable. At some point I started to feel better, about myself and the world. Life is a challenge and can show us terrible things, yet so too is it beautiful and filled with infinite possibility. It is hard to know the light however unless we do the work needed to show up for it.

“Joy of All Who Sorrow”

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We have to practice joy. Just like going to school to train to be a doctor or lawyer or whatever people do nowadays. Or training for the Olympics or simply to get a job. We have to train for joy just like we do for everything else. Joy requires that we be nice and kind and do so openly with all kinds of people. Left, right, rich, poor. Everyone. We have to be friendly and say hello. And absolutely, we have to let our kids see us doing this. Kamala can’t do this for us. Trump definitely can’t. The cops aren’t going to it, thats for damn sure (but we still have to smile and say hello to them too!). Nah, no one but us is going to do this. We are the ones we have been waiting for. Be kind.

If we aren’t careful, we will soon forget how beautiful the world is. I suppose in many places this is already happening, which is why virtual reality is so appealing to some. But look up, stare slowly into the folds of a flower, sit still and drink a cup of tea. Listen to an entire album of an artist you love. Observe a butterfly as she dances from pistil to pistil, the unbelievable power of a dandelion. Look within the crack in the sidewalk from whence the dandelion sprouted from. How amazing. How is it that eventually everything feeds life again, regardless of the trauma? Yes, there is much to grieve now, but so too there is much to fill us with awe. We may be living in perilous times, but how amazing, the world keeps offering us fruit!

“Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.”
― Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants

For those who regularly read my newsletters, you know that I often explore the absence in modern culture of genuine elders. I propose we begin now doing what we must to begin growing into these elders. Complaining about there being no fitting leaders or guides now won’t make any magically show up. Similarly, dwelling on how dark these times are, how sad we feel, etc. isn’t going to miraculously churn our understandable grief into inspirational joy. Being an adult is about having the courage to do what we must do, beautifully, whether we feel like doing it or not. Yes, we must do what we can to smash the patriarchy! Yes, we must veer away from oligarchy AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. We must fight tyranny and dedicate ourselves to living in ways that do not make our planet even hotter than it already is, but arguably more important than all of this, is the need to cultivate within us the ability to show up with genuine joy and friendliness to each day. I must confess, I have not yet myself mastered this skill, but I am working at it, daily, and it’s getting easier.

Anyone remember when we were younger, when we only listened to the news for 30 minutes or so each night? Tom Brokaw or Kurt Loder got a few moments of our day and then we were back with our friends and family, barbecuing and shooting hoops. When did we decide we needed to be plugged into the news constantly? Well, I’ve got news for ya friends, joy doesn’t come from watching the news. Joy arrises spontaneously from showing up to life, with deep, penetrating awareness. Happiness is the result of training ourselves to be in the present moment and to dwell deeply in the space where we are, not only seeing the pain but the beauty as well. Do this more, a little more each day, and see what happens.

Godspeed.

Dedicated to Sonya Massey

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#maypeaceprevailonearth