In the Chaos, Finding Stillness and Grace

The past few days and weeks have been a lot. From the wildfires devastating so many in Los Angeles, to unsettling national shifts here in the U.S., it’s natural to feel overwhelmed 💔

If you’ve been feeling tender, exhausted, afraid and/or at a loss, you’re not alone. And you're not the only one who feels unsure of how to move forward. It’s okay to not know; it's natural to not know. And it's ok to make your best guess and see what happens next.

I was reflecting on this during a sunset walk yesterday, watching the sky shift colors as the day faded into evening. I had put on my jacket and headed out the door, even though parts of me just wanted to numb out on my phone. Instead, I decided to walk and look at the ocean and sky, and see my neighbors and the wild bunnies that come out at dusk 🐰

Walking along the shore, I was reminded of the importance of small steps ~ experiments in caring for ourselves and others. It reminded me that what we need and need to do are sometimes very simple things. Especially when life feels complicated and hard. ❤️

In the past few days, I've also been thinking a lot about the loss of David Lynch. He was a singular creative force who was so wholly himself. A director and artist who challenged us to see beauty in the strange and light in the dark; whose work often explored the tension between chaos and stillness, mystery and clarity.

I felt a connection to him when I came across this shattered blue bottle on my walk yesterday:

It’s strange, isn’t it? I wasn't sure what to make of this image, but it caught my attention and felt Lynch-like. Broken and beautiful all at once. There’s something haunting about the words "You Wish You Were Here" on the label, surrounded by small jagged hunks of blue glass. It feels like a mirror for this moment ~ a wish for presence in the midst of so much absence. And a reminder that even when things break, there is beauty and meaning. We go on, and something valuable remains, no matter what.

With all of this in mind, I wanted to share a poem today that is a real anchor for me when life feels turbulent. I first came across it in the early days of the pandemic ~ another time when we collectively navigated intense uncertainty and upheaval:

Blessing in the Chaos
by Jan Richardson

To all that is chaotic in you,
let there come silence.
Let there be a calming
of the clamoring,
a stilling of the voices
that have laid their claim on you,
that have made their home in you,
that go with you
even to the holy places
but will not let you rest,
will not let you hear your life
with wholeness
or feel the grace
that fashioned you.

Let what distracts you
cease.
Let what divides you
cease.
Let there come an end
to what diminishes
and demeans,
and let depart
all that keeps you
in its cage.

Let there be
an opening
into the quiet
that lies beneath the chaos,
where you find
the peace
you did not think possible
and see what shimmers
within the storm.

from The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief (Wanton Gospeller Press, 2016)

Reading Jan Richardson's poem today, I felt comforted and understood. And I felt like as devastating and unnerving as this time may be, there is something shimmering below it all, too. The chaos is not all there is. I hope that reading it today helps you feel less alone and less overwhelmed.

If you'd like to practice a bit more with this perspective, put a hand on your heart and take three breaths:

With each inhale, say to yourself: let there be an opening

With each exhale, say to yourself: into the quiet

When you finish, notice how you feel.

❤️

Wishing you comfort and peace, today and every day ❤️