Uplift

The incredible power of community.

Posted on by Shari Swanson

Blue Blueberries Food Fact Facebook Post

In 1943, President Roosevelt had several competing problems to solve; his answer: Victory Gardens. Author Elisa Carbone (Diana’s White House Garden) describes the amazing bit of history this way:

The World War II Victory Garden plan grew out of necessity. There was not enough steel and tin to make both fighter planes and tin cans for vegetables. There were not enough train cars to carry soldiers to the ports and to send food around the country. And with Japan controlling the islands where most of the world’s rubber plants grew, there was not enough rubber for tires for trucks to carry food from the farms to the cities.

The Roosevelts’ plan was a resounding success. In every city and town, vacant land was turned to food production. City parks, suburban and urban yards, vacant lots, and even apartment rooftops were used to grow fruits and vegetables. An estimated 20 million gardens were planted in the  U.S., producing between 9 and 10 million tons of food, over 40 percent of all the produce eaten in the United Sates. Community centers offered classes in canning, and the harvest was put away to feed the country during the winter as well.

This bit of history is remarkable in so many ways. Success depended on wide-spread buy-in from the total population based on their shared concern for and desire to support the troops and win the war. The solution wasn’t based on borrowing or over-spending but directly resulted from an honest appraisal of scarcity. People stepped up, across all divides. The solution stemmed from a deep recognition of the interrelatedness of things. People welcomed the opportunity to help. Each of those facts is powerful alone, but together, it marks a remarkable time in history.

What could we do today with buy-in like that among an entire populace? Can we even imagine anymore what it would feel like to be part of a country where everyone was looking for a way to help a global problem by making changes and contributions at a local level? In 1943, the impetus for the action was a desire to feed the troops and help win the war. What will we care enough about to pull together now?

Walk around

Posted on by Shari Swanson

May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.

In her delightful book, Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, Lori Gotlieb relays this encounter with her therapist:

“I’m reminded,” he begins, “of a famous cartoon. It’s of a prisoner, shaking the bars, desperately trying to get out–but to his right and left, it’s open, no bars.”

He pauses, allowing the image to sink in.

“All the prisoner has to do is walk around. But still, he frantically shakes the bars. That’s most of us. We feel completely stuck, trapped in our emotional cells, but there’s a way out–as long as we’re willing to see it.”

We cling to what we think is an agonizing choice between A and B and don’t even see choices C-Z. Sometimes we have the choice not to make a choice at all, to not be part of the conflict. Sometimes choices are knee-jerk reactions that maybe, if we had just paused, we will regret. Sometimes we need to step back and consider.

If only all of our choices could be made from a place of hope, seeing the best in ourselves and our neighbors, looking to build up rather than tear down, reaching for healing rather than harm.

What a wonderful world that would be.

Ripple effect

Posted on by Shari Swanson

Just as ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into the water, the actions of individuals can have far-reaching effects.

We never quite know where the ripples of our behavior start and stop. What did we see or hear about that inspired us to make that kind gesture, or, conversely, what made us lose our temper? If we really analyze it deeply, it’s never just one thing. We are influenced by all the stimuli around us.

Our actions, good and bad, ripple out and touch others, usually in ways we will never see or know. Check out this video below, and think about what ripples you want to put out into the universe today.

We’re hitched.

Posted on by Shari Swanson

hitched

Where do you stop?

Is it at your skin, that organ holding all your pieces all together? If it’s there, at your skin, how do your words fly out into the air and touch, maybe even wound, someone else? Does your you stop when your physical self passes away? If so, how do memories of you inspire your grandchildren to smile long after your death?

When did you start? Was is at your birth? If so, how do you carry the genetic material of all your ancestors that have come before? How are you influenced by events that occurred long before you were born?

Is your you sufficient and complete in itself? Or does your you depend on many others, both human and not human? The plants and trees for oxygen? Other people for companionship? The air, the moon, the stars, the sun, plants, animals, gravity……a giant web of life, really?

It is hard to isolate our actions. Instead they ripple out into the world around us, resulting in things sometimes seen but more often unseen.  In this delightful video, we see an orangutan preschool, a learning community. But, at the heart of the delight in these darling animals is a cold truth: they were orphaned, probably by people that walked and talked like we do. Instead of spending the first seven or eight years of life with their mothers, they are spending it with people trying to teach them how to be orangutans.

When we put out our ripples into this world, let our words be gentle and kind and our touch soft. Let us keep in mind that we are not separate from each other and nature, but that we all share this place we call home. We are all hitched.

Consider the birds.

Posted on by Shari Swanson

silence

Consider the birds. They have so much to teach us. They sing; they fly; they soar. When the storm is over, they come out and sing, fly, and soar again. They vary dramatically from the tiny hummingbird to the great bald eagle, but they have so much in common. And, when we are quiet, they remind us to look up, to look to the future and the possibility that lies there. It turns out considering the birds is good for our well-being, keeping depression at bay.

Be still and notice the birds. Do you see the vulture with its huge wings soaring above you? Do you hear the hawk shriek?  Do you see the crows tuck in their wings and dive to open them again and rise only after you gasp, worried?

Watch the little sparrows bathe in a puddle, delighting in the way the water splashes around them. Listen to them sing.

They sing for you.

Chirp.

Posted on by Shari Swanson

chirp

There is something so uplifting about spring. Everything is busting into life with a combination of ferocity and hopefulness. We’ve been here before– the starting anew, the rebirth, the refusal to surrender to winter. And yet each time is the first time.

We breathe in.

We smile.

The birds are chirping.

We begin again.

Be kind.

Posted on by Shari Swanson

kind

As we bump and bustle our way through life, we often don’t notice other people much, maybe never pause to wonder what they may be going through in life. Usually they are just the person in the way, or the one in front of us in line, or the one who is doing a dismally poor job of getting our order right. But if we could step back and see their interior lives, we may get a whole lot of patience in a hurry. Everybody is carrying a load of some kind. Everybody hurts.

Or, as Jon Pavlovitz says in this insightful article, everybody grieves:

If we could keep this reality in the forefront of our mind as we make our way through the hustle and bustle, we would be gentler, kinder, more patient. And that would do a world of good for our weary world.

Dust you are

Posted on by Shari Swanson

dust

The world existed before us and will go on after us. That’s a hard thing to wrap our minds around because we see things from our point of view. It’s hard to picture a scenario without ourselves in it. And yet, that day will come. Our chance to make our mark will end. While it seems at first like a very sobering thought, it can be uplifting because it reminds us that we are here now; this is our time to dance, to love, to give, to celebrate, to reach out to the other dust particles like ourselves and do our bit. This is our moment. Let’s make the most of it.

What lies between you and me?

Posted on by Shari Swanson

attentiveness

Loneliness is an epidemic. That heart to heart connection with others, our world, our communities is lost as we race from one To Do to the next. Superficial greetings take the place of deep conversation, and we substitute more for better.

When was the last time you felt truly heard by another person–not heard so they could diagnose you or give you instructions for how to do better–but heard as though someone paused to notice the real you, the deep down you?

When was the last time you paused to consider another person, not as a means to an end on your own journey, but as a person with their own dreams and heart desires, their own wants and needs, their own untold story hoping to be heard?

When was the last time you paused to consider the world around you, from the beauty of nature to the miracle of your own next breath?

Perhaps our loneliness epidemic would be eased if we all were to slow down and notice each other, pause to realize we are here for each other,  and be vulnerable enough to allow ourselves to see and be seen.

Mary Oliver’s poems open us in so many ways– to nature, to each other, to our own hidden places. Perhaps this one on loneliness will speak to you today:

Loneliness

When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider
the orderliness of the world. Notice
something you have never noticed before,

like the tambourine sound of the snow-cricket
whose pale green body is no longer than your thumb.

Stare hard at the hummingbird, in the summer rain,
shaking the water-sparks from its wings.

Let grief be your sister, she will whether or not.
Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also,
like the diligent leaves.

A lifetime isn’t long enough for the beauty of this world
and the responsibilities of your life.

Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away.
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.

In the glare of your mind, be modest.
And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling.

Live with the beetle, and the wind.

~ Mary Oliver ~