Metaphor/Not Metaphor

I have a metaphor for you today.

We are ascending through the clouds. There's zero visibility and we can't get our bearings. Which way is up? The perspective is elusive, the mood in the cabin – in your chest – untethered, anticipatory.

You talk with a friend you made in the boarding area. You share conversation in a group of fellow travelers. You speak of your fears: What if this never ends? What if the clouds never clear? You make a plan for how to share resources, comparing notes on who packed what for this journey, who has what skills. After all, it's looking like this is going to be a very long flight. (This metaphor is far from perfect, because if this were a real flight, there would probably also be someone sneezing without a mask on. Nevertheless, she persisted!)

Some time passes. You listen to the other voices and remember some vital things, like the fact that you are not alone on this flight. There are folks everywhere connected to you – the ones in the air traffic control tower monitoring the radar, the ones in the airport awaiting your arrival, the ones sitting on either side of you.

Still, you can't quite shake​ feeling like you have no control​, and ​the ​continued lack of visibility only adds to your sense of powerlessness.

You doze off.

Then something happens. When you open your eyes and slide up your window cover, you see that you have cleared the cloud bank. The space fills with light and it dawns on you that this – this sky – has been here all along. It was here when you were frightened. It was here when you despaired. Your fellow passengers also seem to have relaxed a bit. You open your book and begin to read. When the next clouds roll in, you notice, but you don't worry quite as much. You have a sense of who your people are now, and of what you can contribute, as well.

At first blush, it could seem that this story conveys a kind of passivity. After all, on a plane, there's ultimately not much you can do but just sit there. But that's not my focus. What I am interested in is what we CAN do in situations that feel beyond our control.

What helps us regroup, even when solid ground is far, far away?

Yes, of course I am referring to the Supreme Court leak this week.

The word "ominous" feels neither hyperbolic nor far-fetched, and on top of the many other threats to our bodies and planet, it is easy to spiral into a sense of isolation, defeat, and despair.

Now let me tell you a little story. It takes place back here on the ground. In fact, it happened just last week.

One cold spring morning, a friend texted me saying she could use a pep talk. I headed out to walk and talk. As soon as we got on the phone, I said, "Just a head's up – I'm not feeling super peppy myself, so this may not be the best pep talk ever." She told me that just hearing that already made her feel better, less alone. Of course this opened up into the rest of our meandering, honest back and forth about what was on her mind, what was on mine, where we were feeling down or doubtful. And then, about an hour later, that moment happened. "We're out of the clouds," I observed.

Just like that, after a good, old-fashioned conversation, we could both see ourselves, our lives, and the world a bit more clearly. Things felt possible again.

We all have so many ways of coping. When it's all just too much, maybe you get more snacks. Maybe you pace up and down the aisle. Maybe you reach for anti-anxiety meds or tiny bottles of alcohol. Maybe you write impassioned letters or maybe you put on an eye mask so no one will talk to you.

And maybe – sometimes – you text a friend. "I need a pep talk," you say. You show up to a class, a group, a conversation you're not even sure you have the energy for, only to feel energized by it, revived, reminded of your life force, your connection to others, and the fact that there is always something within your control.

My sense is that this is part of our individual and collective work right now. (Or maybe we just need to storm the cockpit and take over the controls – that may be for another post, though it is also called VOTING.)

How do you regroup when everything is up in the air? Do you write? Do you call a friend? Do you send money? Do you sign up for classes and workshops? Do you tend to wring your hands, to retreat and isolate?

Take some time today to sit with these questions. Think about what you need in order to return to knowing that you are a) not alone and b) not helpless. None of us is – this much I know.

And that is not a metaphor. That is as real as real gets.