As someone who’s long wrestled with my voice - Who am I? What do I have to say? Do my thoughts add anything worthwhile ? - I’ve been a reluctant activist, a careful weigher of opinion. But this week, when cookbook author and human rights activist, Yasmin Khan, described her frustration and hurt at silence around horrific, ever-deepening suffering in Gaza, I found myself wondering about complicity.
Living in the midst of terrible stuff is both heart-wrenchingly awful, and…just living.
In our localized popcorn poppers of work, life, family and community, stress, decompression, imagination and reality, we frequently look at what’s happening “somewhere else”, sigh, and compartmentalize other people’s tragedies. It’s hard to admit, but when we stop noticing, yes, we do become complicit.
But with my small audience and intentionally apolitical messaging, I didn’t feel much equipped to “interrupt the silence.” (thanks Fr Michael March of Uvalde, Tx for introducing me to this idea) I wavered. Would it even matter?
And then, beauty called.
So many creators producing so many clever, funny, lovely, lyrical, thought-provoking, mind-blowing ways of seeing, despite the terrible darknesses of the world remind me how small actions of making, observation, and care absolutely have impact.1
As great poet Mary Oliver observes, even in our slowest, idlest moments, we possess a “wild and precious life” thick with beauty and possibility. The important thing is to show up.
Presence is the magic of living.
Headlines trumpeting genocide/apartheid/war/ famine/humanitarian crisis aren’t new. Something terrible is always happening somewhere. And daily life never stops. Most of us don’t live on a soapbox, so when/where/how to put our voices and energies can cause us to waver. But we need not be complicit in silence. Neither do we need to wring our hands at what we can’t. We all have something to offer when we show up.
Though different for everyone, lament, rumination, listening, conversation, learning, sending money, thoughts, prayers, signs, protests, disinvestment, activism all express presence. As does creativity, in its myriad of forms. Beauty calls, even, and especially when people are hurting. Our individual ways of showing up against the worst impulses of humankind reflect our best answers to the call of beauty over darkness or violence.
Susan Cain, author of Quiet and Bittersweet asks “Can Beauty Save the World?” and answers by quoting C.S. Lewis on the eve of World War II:
“Human life has always been lived on the edge of a precipice. Human culture has always had to exist under the shadow of something infinitely more important than itself. If men had postponed the search for knowledge and beauty until they were secure, the search would have never begun. We are mistaken when we compare war with “normal life.” Life has never been normal.”
As we journey daily through and alongside uncomfortable, never-normal reality, my action may look like your silence and vice versa. However, if we are all here, present, attuned to need, available to care, showing up, we can combat the onslaught of terrible stuff. Because, according to Brad Montague in The Enthusiast “Nothing terrifies cynicism more than a person who still believes in beauty.”
I still believe.
More now than ever.
Even when it feels like it would be smarter, safer, easier to stop.I still believe in wonder.
I still believe in kindness.
I still believe in goofy storytimes and art shows nobody asked for and new friends who feel like old ones.I still believe beauty matters.
Me too!
Some sparks of beauty showing up against the worst of the world:
The Ai Weiwei exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum
My friend Elayne Crain’s picture book debut
A writer’s retreat on the Washington Coast (and the town of Seabrook itself)
This observation by Wendell Berry:
We have lived by the assumption that what was good for us would be good for the world. We have been wrong. We must change our lives so that it will be possible to live by the contrary assumption that what is good for the world will be good for us. And that requires that we make the effort to know the world and learn what is good for it.
And a blessing from Irish poet and philosopher, John O’Donahue (with thanks to the Begin in Wonder substack:
As stillness in stone to silence is wed,
May solitude foster your truth in word.
As a river flows in ideal sequence,
May your soul reveal where time is presence.
As the moon absolves the dark of distance,
May your style of thought bridge the difference.
As the breath of light awakens color,
May the dawn anoint your eyes with wonder.
As spring rain softens the earth with surprise,
May your winter places be kissed by light.
As the ocean dreams to the joy of dance,
May the grace of change bring you elegance.
As clay anchors a tree in light and wind,
May your outer life grow from peace within.
As twilight pervades the belief of night,
May beauty sleep lightly within your heart.
"Beauty calls, even, and especially when people are hurting. Our individual ways of showing up against the worst impulses of humankind reflect our best answers to the call of beauty over darkness or violence. "
Love this! It makes me think, too, of how artists often transform pain into art--creating meaning where there appeared to be none.
thank you. feeling especially complicit about Gaza - and the phrase about beauty calling is an invitation to learn something, see something, do something new.