My heart has been aching a lot lately, knowing I would not exist had kindness of Americans not been shown to my not-too-distant ancestors that were refugees of war. And I do not think paranoia is an answer to anything. Paranoia begets paranoia. Terror begets terror. Sanctuary cities will lose operational funding for trying to be a sanctuary.
All I know for certain is, the invisible army of people contributing to our society with the labor of their backs and hands for such low pay that no one else will take their jobs may suddenly be gone. Citizens may wake up one day soon and see fewer fruits and vegetables in the markets, residential lawns less manicured and landscaped, and even the most upscale restaurants less functional.
So what to do? Aside from calling leaders and taking any action one is able to share one’s voice on behalf of others, self-compassion has never been more important than during these times of change. To that end, an image came to me along with two words to say whenever I am feeling overcome with emotion and helplessness about the changes I see around me.
The only things allowed inside the love bubble are:
- I am (capable of) great love.
- I am remarkable.
- I am beautiful.
- I am at peace.
Serendipitously, I learned today that the Hebrew word for compassion means “womb.” Womb Love. Whenever I am feeling afraid, anxious, sad for fellow human beings who are simply trying to survive or even about whatever I think may be lacking in my own life, I silently say the words “love bubble” and I am there. Where we all belong.
(I also make mandalas in nature – anything to remind me of wholeness – try making a mandala out of anything and see if you feel better)