The Illusion of Choice

That's our modern condition. I just watched a Facebook spot about the fact that almost all eyeglasses and their delivery systems are owned by the single company Luxxotica, and read in the paper how Monsanto and Bayer are merging. We all know this is how things are going in the giant world of conglomerates. It's the kind of cultural thing that people feel helpless about it and even when "Adam Ruins Everything" tells us the facts, we tend to kind of file that away and keep going as usual. Extrapolate that to climate change, politics, and you can make your own list of the ones you choose to live uneasily with. I have to buy glasses.

Boy that has an effect on our psyches, though. I'm reading what is for me a heartbreaking book, the new novel Barkskins by Annie Proulx, which is a book so well written I can only hope to understand its structure and the expertise she has applied to literary fiction. It's character after character through hundreds of years, and we watch development work through their lands and lives and see how helpless they are to prevent losing what they treasure, how they participate it for smaller reasons of their own. I think we accept that as a condition of our human lives now...instead of things getting better and better, we will lose piece by piece until we are left with nothing. Maybe that's just age talking. I've seen some sad situations lately that underscore why people say things like love is all that matters.

There's very little else you have control over but a slice of your emotions, and choosing love is a pretty good adaptation to that if you can hold onto that illusion. I let my cynicism loose on love, having tried on lots of forms of it and come up lacking in skill and expertise to keep that glamour drawn over that hard reality. Honesty always forces me down into realism and I see romantic thinking and wishfulness underneath, and to me it looks quite thin. Not that I think you shouldn't keep working on it. It really is all that matters, because bringing love to the human situations is the best we can do to get through them. Giving up on that doesn't give us much in the salvage pile.

I admire people who can form a solid partnership and draw strength from it. Must be such a comfort. I see it kind of like religion, something that feels real and makes you feel strong, strong enough to keep going and keep trying and rest easy when there is nothing else to try. You hold the person's hand and get some peace and safety there. You promise each other, and hope you can keep the promises. Everyone should have that comfort, because life is hard, but alas. Lots of us don't.

I like to say your cynicism won't protect you. My cynicism does me no favors, but if anything is my religion, it's honesty, and I can't seem to get my cynicism out of my honest calculations. So my trust is compromised. I don't feel as safe as I'd like and I hardly trust anyone...really deep down. I trust people who are really honest with me, who are humble enough to not be prone to drawing the glamour veil over whatever is between us. I trust hard workers who speak directly and look within before they cast about for blame. I do have such people in my life, thank goodness. I have others who work toward that. Then there are plenty who don't get it and don't want to and don't want me to bring it up. Be positive! Assume the best!

Sometimes, I suppose, honesty is not the best policy. Maybe it's the base of a slightly rose-colored version of the concept or impulse or thought and maybe the cheery exterior is helpful. This is getting a little too theoretical to check for fact...what exactly am I talking about? I'm afraid to say.

Unleashing my cynicism isn't going to get my community through the hard times we're in. All of my artisan communities are having problems with our realities...maybe not huge problems, maybe mostly our normal problems: attacking our leaders, losing perspective, letting our selfish sides out, saying things without thinking of the possible effects, hurting each other, trusting the wrong people. Trying to keep the love spread over it all when the glamour has some spiky nails poking through is a constant effort. OCF just went through another huge upheaval which is how decisions seem to have to be made in the age of Facebook and too many people to fit in a room. It gets ugly but a few key people always know what to say...and lots of people are still able to listen. Love for each other can certainly be a deep and real emotion.

Obviously the TV and music offerings of our day have given us some terrible examples of how to behave and how to treat each other, with the glorification of the thug culture and "getting mine" and we all see every day ways that well-meaning, good souls are taken advantage of, crushed, and ruined, by desperate, blind predators who have no idea why or what they are doing, thrashing through their pain. I don't think it has ever been different really, but when the population was smaller and we didn't have media so entertainment-oriented, it was less obvious and in our faces. We could live in our illusions and get away with it. It's harder now to do that. I was walking home last night after dark and passed a few people...no one scary, though I've had the habit of crossing the street to avoid passing large men as a rule. Last night I didn't, so I took a closer look at the dark shapes and worked with gut feelings, and everyone was cool. People were walking their dogs, exercising, smoking, or just going somewhere like I was. Some were afraid of me, with my backpack, bag of bread, roll of posterboard falling out of my open pack. I looked awkward, and I actually tripped on the sidewalk and fell on my face, cursing loudly. Damn fucking sidewalk. I guess I wasn't lifting my feet enough. The worst aspect of it was no one came to help me. I didn't need it, and there wasn't anyone close enough anyway, but I thought that if they heard my loud cursing and saw my confusing load of stuff, they wouldn't come near me. They would back away, because I would look like a drunk or someone else who could be dangerous. I felt that loneliness of having pain that no one cared about.

I got some scrapes and bruises but am fine and made it home, but I did remind myself that the universe likes to send me lessons (how I draw my glamour veil) and here was one about judgement and stereotyping. Everyone who falls down deserves a helping hand. The poor woman who was arrested behind the Tuesday Market had spent her morning desperately weeping, spreading her damp clothing and towels out on the rock walls in her cubby, and she deserved better than to have her belongings put into black plastic bags and hauled away. Who knows if she will recover any of them, or need to? Maybe that's what people on the street expect now, but what I expected was that some of the people who watched this happen might gather them up and put them back into her pack and save them for her...I wanted to do that myself. No one did. I saw another person spend the day doing personal grooming of all kinds, trying to hide herself by the same wall and pretend she had privacy, in the privacy of her black hoody and pants. A hundred people saw her and ignored her, and she ignored all of us. My gut drew me so strongly to give her something, money, food, a word, something...but I did not. We exchanged a glance or two, hers suspicious and defiant (I imagined), mine full of dismay and indecision. I didn't want to invade the little privacy she was trying so hard to create.

I told myself to be careful, to be cautious, to keep working and not take on things that were not my business. Down the street at the federal courthouse were hundreds of people not being cautious, speaking out and supporting our kids who are working for climate change repair. I know people are working for homeless advocacy too. I know lots of people are working hard for exactly what I want: less judgement, more justice, finding safety and privacy for those who can't buy it for themselves, helping. Giving the comfort of a hand and a partner to those who don't get that, aren't successful at arranging that for themselves.

So I have a lot of work to do. We discussed how to be a good partner at the Task Force yesterday, and it helped a little, and we worked together very well to take some steps together as a membership to articulate our position and protect our needs. I'll keep the veil over my cynicism but it hasn't alleviated in the least. The set up has been deliberate and the deal is laid out, and it's not like we have any real power when millions of dollars are on the table. We have the illusion of choice. We're going to make the most of it.

We're going to assume the best, and step our way carefully into the inevitable and keep doing what we can to use our own crayons to color it good for us. I can't tell you all will be well, that it will be what you want. No one knows exactly how these downtown developments will play out in detail, but they will play out. It will be "what the community wants". Let's just hope that it isn't all what the development community wants. Let's keep working and bringing in our people and putting forward our vision of what our alternative community wants, too. We are an important cog in the wheel. There's no way to stop the train, but we can keep helping to draw the map, and keep working on ourselves and our friends and neighbors to make the best choices we can. Whether we like it or not, we are all in this together, and it is where we are. Fear less, love more.

Compassionate Communication in Action

Apparently people were quite disturbed by my zero-dark-thirty late night darkness. We as humans are fascinated by such but frightened as well. I was told that people wanted "the old Diane" back. Ironic. I feel unseen and misjudged, but at the same time vulnerable and strong...all the contradictions and deeply human.

I've written at length about adrenaline patterns and how they work in my brain, and the old Diane is that in spades...I've had this issue my whole adult life, but only now at sixty-six do I feel I have a handle on it. I can go to the dark places and come back, and they don't scare me. What scares me is how little control humans in general have for the brain patterns that drive them, and how much acceptance in people there is for things that can work better but won't without a lot of effort and personal growth.

I'm humbled by mine. If my strong leadership scares you when it comes out, that's because I keep it hidden for a good reason: I'm marshmallow vulnerable inside that strength. One disparaging word, in this case "insinuated" is enough to set off my cascade of hormonal responses. It's terrifying to be that soft. Most of you know exactly what I mean about that underbelly which we all try to keep protected with all our might.

My process is so old for me that I always feel that I have conquered it until it comes up again and I know that I have merely avoided it...and studied the hell out of it to try to learn to not be besieged by emotions that ought to feel normal and easy to handle. I've worked on it diligently for a few decades now and it is way closer to being something I can control rather than fear and avoid. So when I get angry or disillusioned or disappointed, I don't have a problem putting that here, which I consider to be my sacred space where I can say whatever I want and damn the torpedos.

Thank Marko for the Empathy Tent. He is my hero for bringing the work of Marshall Rosenberg and many others to use for the benefit of all of us. I don't know quite how they can work that magic without taking any of it on, but Marko is exceptionally skilled. Yesterday I read a disturbing email right before I started loading up for Market at 6:30 am, after not sleeping well, and my brain took off on its well-worn pathways of fight, flight or freeze. Since I had work to do, I couldn't freeze or escape, so I had to fight, that internal fight to get righted and continue my plans for the day despite feeling that my throat was cut. Yes, that's the dramatic response my brain came up with for being what I felt to be unjustly accused of things I had not done, in defense of people's hurt feelings or confusion or assumptions or whatever drove the criticism. It's not my job to censor others or try to figure out their motivations or even interpret them, it's my job to take them in, process them, and extract what is useful and discard the rest. So although it took all day, I was able to hear the feedback that I was stronger than some people expected me to be, that they were fearful, and that perhaps I could be more collaborative or gentle in my approach to leadership. Helpful feedback, and not meant to derail but perhaps to refine or slow down what I feel is urgent. Points taken; next?

I know what to do about the adrenaline pattern but the steps are tough to enact while working the beginning of a 12-hour day in public in a very vulnerable space. I knew not to respond to the email, or even discuss it until my brain had gotten to the calmer, more rational space. I knew to separate feelings from facts, and I knew to not escalate the cascade by involving yet more people than were already involved. I knew that right or wrong I had to avoid some things: people who would take it and run faster, more caffeine, anything that would make me more vulnerable like alcohol or too much sugar, and so on. The worst thing to do was to add more emotions to the mix, but of course there I was in my community in public with everything out there on display.

So I asked people in my circle to remind me what to tell my brain: things like "I am not in danger. This is not happening now. This is not life or death, and I am a speck on a spot in a tiny corner of the universe and this is not a big thing. I can handle this and have before and soon it will be over and I'll feel better. I am strong and capable. I can get the help I need." I physically shook it off. I controlled myself and tried not even to make jokes about it, which of course I couldn't quite manage but I did pretty well. When one person came to me to talk about it I indulged in a few of my thoughts but made the strong point that now was not the time to respond and he respected that. I didn't get my noon coffee. I drank water and forced myself to eat protein. I tried to reframe, reframe, reframe.

None of what is happening in the bigger world of my community is about someone's feelings, not mine or anyone else's. I feel I have to remind people that your feelings are not facts, and you have to own them and be in charge of them. If you are hurt you are accepting the hurt and it's your job to work deeper and get over it. It is not my job as a leader to protect your feelings.

Of course being a compassionate leader it is within my list of concerns to try not to hurt you. Of course I do try to do that. I hold myself to very high standards as a leader, and honesty is probably my highest ideal. I'll tell you what felt hurtful to me, but I will also work through it to the real meat: was it true? was it helpful in advancing the work we're doing, or was it counter-productive? What must we do to go forward past it?

Thank Marko for the Empathy Tent! I cannot stress enough what having safe space means to me. I took my hankie over there and made myself cry, hard. I did this to dispel the aftermath of adrenaline which is crippling. The sadness, discouragement and depression that can follow is what self-defeat is all about. Not only did I not want to go to Market that morning, I wanted to quit all of my jobs, paid and unpaid, in the service of my Market community. Over the strength of one word and a few sentences of an opinion I disagreed with. That, my friends, is a terrifying level of vulnerability.

And it is my contention that most of us who are sensitive humans are just that soft. One thought expressed in assumption, confusion, or anger can completely derail any number of our fellow humans who are generally just trying to do what we think is best. Of course sometimes we are wrong!

In this particular case, not only did I feel unjustly accused of casting blame, I actually blame myself far more than anyone else. I did not pay enough attention and did not ask enough questions or provide enough leadership when it would have been far more effective. I was lazy and irresponsible. I was selfish and concentrated on my own pursuits rather than being on the forefront watching out for this thing I knew was coming. I didn't question assumptions that rang false. I let down my guard and enjoyed time sitting on my deck when there was important work to do. And I am working to forgive myself for that; I do forgive myself for that. I can't and don't have to do it all. Lots of people are working and available to work to keep things on track and it isn't all about me. At all. That's one of the things I tell myself: this isn't about me.

Our brains are giant and mysterious things and our unconscious and subconscious acts are often unremarkable and sometimes life-changing. My emotional cascade is no one else's problem and I hope no one felt responsible for being instrumental in it or in getting me out of it. I own it. I'm articulating it because that is one of the things I do best.

I"m in this leadership position at this moment because I was asked to be and called to me. I have what is needed to hold it and create space for our community to express itself through me. This is not an irrational taking on of something imaginary and is not a delusion of grandeur or part of my brain dysfunction pathway. This is a brave and honest and full-of-heart thing to do and I know this because at least fifty of my oldest companions in this journey have told me so. I am speaking for them.

So I feel the strength of thousands behind me to make things happen. I'm not giving opinions based on assumptions and I'm not irrational and I'm not carrying a pitchfork in some quixotic windmill tilting. I will not be sidetracked or diminished by the fear of people who don't like the strong leader Diane because they haven't seen her before. You should have seen me on the streets of Washington DC in the 70s. You should have seen me as a single mom fighting to create a safe and abundant home for my son. There is a fierceness in me that I really should not hide. I should bring her out more, but your fears scare me.

Get a grip, friends. Fear is not where we are dwelling and not where we want to be. Fear is what makes us vulnerable and what makes us give up when we don't have to. We are all quivering masses of conflicting emotions and history and misjudgements and we have to be better than that.

So as I cried in the Empathy Tent and shed my confusion and focused, I could dispel the power of that one word and those diminishing misjudgements and regain my confidence and most of my strength. I was able to go to the person who said them and give my assessments of her action, and we got past it. She listened to me, I listened to her, and we hugged as tightly as two drowning sisters in the floodwaters of the drama of life.

We re-grounded and let go and joined again to work together. We can disagree. We can urge caution and we can urge action and we can be strident or hesitant or loud or humorous or ironic or self-indulgent or right or even wrong. What we cannot do is tear each other down and stand in each other's way for fear. Fear is not where we want to dwell. So don't tell me I'm "just" afraid. I know what that feels like.

I am always working for all of us. I am always trying to do my best to hear us all and articulate for us all. This is not just an affirmation but it is an ideal and a goal. I hope and do trust that all Saturday Market volunteers are in that sacred space. I heard from many people yesterday and they all were in agreement with the positions I have articulated. I didn't hear from anyone who disagreed. However, I know you are out there, and maybe you are intimidated by my strong voice. If that is the case, I challenge you to speak up now. Email me at dmcwho@efn.org to tell me, after informing yourself with all of the information I have provided, your thoughts on how Saturday Market should be proceeding through these developments presented by the city and county governments and those they pay to articulate them. If you want the information I will give you everything I have. It's not my opinion. I've been asked to express that, and I have declined, repeatedly, to do so. My responsibility is to the membership, to articulate what our membership wants.

Saturday Market is an autonomous, independent, membership nonprofit with a clear mission and identity that we have built together for almost fifty years. I am carrying that with the utmost care and dedication. This is not about me or anyone else. This is about what thousands have built and care deeply for. I'm taking leadership to articulate.

I do welcome direction, and am trying my hardest to be collaborative and useful and rational and direct. You know me. You actually do see me. I don't have to hide. If I quit it would be a loss for me and for many.

This is not self-righteous irrational grandstanding or any kind of mental illness minor or major. This is thoughtful, heartful leadership. It's not perfect. Let's not hold our leaders to absolutes of perfection, and let's not tear our leaders down. We need all the leadership we can gather. And lucky for us, we have human leaders who can be compelling, strong, and effective. I am only one among many. 

So there is the Sunday morning sermon for this week. Thank you to all the sensitive individuals who offered me compassion yesterday, and there were quite a few who were stellar. Thank you to the darkness that shows us how to recognize the light. Thank you for the words that we need. Thank you for the hearts and souls that we bring so openly to our downtown each week and each day. Let's keep moving toward the better world we all want to live in, as we are continuing to create it. Many thanks.