Lisa Bennett's Blog

For the 15 million of us who live in Northern California, life changed two weeks ago.

It was not only the horrifying loss of lives, homes, communities, landscapes and the ravaging of Wine Country, a tourist destination more popular than Disney World.

It was the shock of how suddenly life can change — and on such a massive scale.

It was the unavoidable proof that we are interconnected in this climate-changing world. Some experience supersized hurricanes, some drought and unprecedented wildfires, some sea level rise.

And it was the awful feeling of being powerless to protect one’s children from the most fundamental thing in the world: the air we breathe…

So what happens now? Like the hurricanes that devastated Puerto Rico, Houston, and parts of Florida, the catastrophic fires in California point to some important things that we could allow to change us for the good. For example:

It’s OK to get mad as hell about the unconscionable failure to protect people—children, especially—from climate change.

As parents, we all want to protect our children from harm. Some things we can’t protect them from, and that’s always a hard pill to swallow. But the science on climate change has been clear for decades; so have the solutions.

The only thing that has ever been lacking is the political will. And if you want to understand why, you only need, as they say in journalism circles, to follow the money. It leads right back to oil and coal interests, as The New Yorker writer Jane Mayer chronicles in Dark Money.

Should we quietly if grudgingly accept this—knowing unprecedented tragedies such as those we have seen this year are the result? Hell no. We need to (continue reading on Moms Clean Air Force.)

Filed under: Cultivating Radical Hope, Doing a Little Good Tagged: California fires, climate change, Featured, Hope, inspiration, social change

When I dropped my son off at school this morning, the teachers directing traffic were wearing facemasks and our usual view of San Francisco was obscured by thick smoke.

The latest fires just north of us, in the famed Sonoma and Napa wine country all the way up to Mendocino, are burning fast—and sending a message:

Climate change does not discriminate. Rich and poor, coastal and inland dwellers, Republican and Democrat, we’re all living the reality of climate change now.

The smell of smoke in my nostrils as I write, the feel of it in my lungs as I breathe, I recognize I am so far one of the lucky ones.

I have had the privilege of thinking about climate change and what it means for families for more than a decade without having experienced one of the most direct hits of it. Drought, yes; extreme heat, yes; wild swings in winter conditions, yes.

But that is little compared to what so many others have recently experienced: the utter destruction and devastation of climate-fueled hurricanes and wildfires that have wiped out homes, lives, and livelihoods.

Today made me feel how bracingly real these sudden tragedies are. And there is little question of their link to climate change, as Amy Head, the fire captain spokeswoman for Cal Fire, confirmed.

… So what can we, as parents, do? Continue reading on Mom’s Clean Air Force.

Filed under: Doing a Little Good Tagged: California, California fires, climate change, environment, Featured, politics

I was driving my son home from school last month when he grabbed my phone to Google something and announced:

“Neil de Grasse Tyson says it’s too late to solve [recover from] climate change.”

“What?” I said with a mix of incredulity and anxiety. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s Neil de Grasse Tyson,” my 13-year-old responded matter-of-factly.

Point taken: I’m not a world-famous astrophysicist, bestselling author, and popular TV host.

But I am a mother. And as a mother, I know that messages like these, absent a larger context, are not good for our children—especially given the frighteningly fierce hurricanes we’ve witnessed over the past several months and the frighteningly fierce wildfires that are raging here in northern California where I live.

So how do we talk with children about climate change now that the evidence of it is too dramatic to miss? Here are five things I’ve found helpful to keep in mind.

1. Reframe the question.

“Can we stop or solve climate change?” is not a helpful question. We know it’s happening, and we know it’s likely to get worse. It’s a moot point. Worse, it’s a dispiriting one.

Stephen Colbert expressed this in a conversation with Al Gore this summer when he said: “I know a lot of young people who are feeling somewhat hopeless about this. They read articles in magazines or see interviews on TV and hear it is too late.”

So instead of discussing whether we can solve climate change, consider reframing this question to: “What can we do to offset climate change?”

This question prompts real answers: divest from fossil fuel interests, put solar on your roof, save energy, cut down on your meat consumption, support a price on carbon, vote people out of office who turn a blind eye to climate change, protest the Administration’s championing of the fossil fuel companies that have created this crisis.

2. Provide positive examples.

If you or your children rely only on the news, especially in this year of bad news, you will miss out on all the good work being done to address climate change.

Consider, for example, the leadership being shown by the nation’s mayors, businesses, foundations, scientists, churches and synagogues, and communities that are working both to accelerate the transition to clean energy and develop resilience in anticipation of sea level rise and other impacts of climate change.

Children need to know this. They need to know that, whatever is happening in Washington, there are countless other people working tirelessly to reduce the impact of climate change. They need to know that people are putting money into this, and they are putting heart into this. They are offering their creativity, innovation, and hard work to make things better.

3. Infuse children with radical hope about their future.

The reality of the state of the world today is tough for parents to grapple with. But it’s more than tough for kids—it’s wrong.

Our kids deserve to be fiercely hopeful about their future. They deserve to be inspired about the boundless creativity of innovators and problem-solvers. They deserve to be supported in the flowering of their own brilliance. And they deserve to be excited about good things ahead — things in the works, and things not yet considered.

As Mary Robinson said in a TEDWomen interview last month: “When we think about innovation, we usually focus on technology…Perhaps we should be more focused on innovation in terms of global governance.”

For example, she suggested, what if we represented the interests of future generations in decision-making? On a national level, Wales and Hungary have already led the way in this. Imagine if more followed.

4. Remember that doing something is the best medicine.

It is easy to feel dwarfed by climate change and think that there is nothing we can do that is truly up to the challenge at hand. Yet this too leads nowhere good.

We need to remind ourselves that taking any action is better than no action—practically, morally, and psychologically. So if you want to encourage your children to keep moving in a positive direction, encourage them to join you in doing something to help.

5. Model the qualities your children need.

The reality is that there are people in positions of great power today who unconscionably appear to think less about the future well being of our children and grandchildren (not to mention their own) than they do about money and power.

We must be the counter to these wholly inadequate models for our children. Equally importantly, we must show our children a better way to be in the world by demonstrating courage, compassion, and resilience.

To be fair, I think Neil de Grasse Tyson would agree with all this. And his comment on CNN did appear to come in response to an understandable frustration with politicians who disregard science and block the progress we need to be making on this issue.

There are, after all, realistic solutions to the climate problem, as Justin Gillis wrote in an excellent recent primer in The New York Times. But we need to act on them—yes, urgently.

So, no, my son, it’s not too late. It’s never too late to make things better.

 

 

 

Filed under: Talking about Climate Change Tagged: Children, climate change, Featured, Neil de Grasse Tyson, Parenting

First of all, let’s be real. It’s not just Las Vegas. There’s a hell of a lot going terribly wrong these days.

Donald Trump. A spineless Senate. Climate Change. Attacks on immigrants and, God save us, desperate refugees. The resurgence of neo-Nazis. Devastating hurricanes in Puerto Rico, Texas, Florida, the Caribbean.

I could write a very long list of what is going wrong.

So could you.

So, most likely, could our children.

So what do we say?

The usual advice is: Consider their age. If they are young, keep it short and re-assuring: They are safe. If they are older, the message is basically the same: Let them know they are safe. For every age, tell them you are there to answer their questions.

But what if your child says: How can you say I’m safe when there has been so much violence? Or, why couldn’t people escape this? Or, why didn’t anyone stop it? Or, what makes people do this? Or, why don’t good people know how to deal with all of this? Or Jesus, what the hell kind of world am I going into? Or, could it happen to me?

I don’t have many good answers.

That’s the truth. There are no simple answers for the horrific things that are happening today on so many fronts.

Still, I know this:

Our acts of kindness and love matter.

Our open-heartedness matters.

Our actions that show how much we care about our children and will do everything in our power to keep them safe matters.

Our example of being a force for good in the world matters.

So how how do we talk with our children about Las Vegas — or any of the recent tragedies we’ve seen — in a way that truly helps? 

1. First, I believe we get real. That is, we meet them on a common ground of humility that recognizes that we are not in control of what is happening in the world. We touch within ourselves the feeling they may be having: that things out there seem frighteningly out of control.

After all, if we do not allow that as a possibility, isn’t it unlikely that our children will admit that feeling to us?

2. Second, as conventional advice suggests, we let them know they can say or ask anything. We need to signal that this does not need to be a neat conversation, and we do not need them to act as if everything is OK. If they are afraid, it’s OK to say that. If they are anxious, it’s OK to say that. If they are angry, it’s OK to say that.

And the only way they will truly get this message is if we are present in a way that allows them to authentically feel they can say anything. Maybe that means admitting that we too are afraid or anxious or angry. Maybe it means saying we are angry that this is what they are experiencing of the world — when we know that the reality is that there are so many more good people than there currently appear to be.

3. Third, we remind children of what they can count on: us and other good family members and friends. Their own good heart. And the much, much larger community of people out there who lead with kindness and love.

And we remind them that one of the best antidotes to the fear that is fueled by violence or other horrific acts in the world is to do something good ourselves. Big or small. Known or unknown. The act is what counts.

And, finally, we help them identify a way that, together, we can make a difference. Give a little money, a little time. Make their opinions known — about climate change or gun control, about equality, democracy, refugees, or any of the many issues that matter now.

So have the conversation with your children. Not a pat conversation. Not a fearful conversation. Not a conversation designed to make them believe in a world other than the one we currently live in. Have a real conversation.

Then take solace in knowing the truth, including the truth of your love for them, will serve them best in the end. Even if they do not take you up on talking in the moment.

 

 

 

Filed under: Preparing Young People for a Changing World Tagged: Children, Featured, guns, Las Vegas, make a difference, Parenting

I never thought of myself as someone who would write about happiness. Most of my writing has been focused on the other life in America: our conflicts over issues such as women’s rights, gay rights, and climate change. And this year has not been good on any of those fronts.

But this year—this stunning, disorienting, frightening, destructive, tragic, and tumultuous year—has also changed me. For the good.

What follows are six things I learned about happiness along the way that I hope might be helpful to you, too.

First a caveat: This is not at all meant to minimize the suffering and death that has occurred in 2017. Nor is it an attempt to slap a falsely happy face on the sorrow, heartbreak, and fear many of us feel about our beloved nation right now.

It is, however, to remind us that the pursuit of happiness is core to who we are as human beings and as important as ever to focus on now — for ourselves and our children.

An inalienable right worth fighting for. Whether Republican or Democrat; rich or poor; black, white, Latino, or Asian; gay, straight, or transgender; citizen or refugee — all of us share a desire for happiness.

Moreover, as Americans, we put happiness on the world political map. We enshrined its pursuit as an inalienable right in the Declaration of Independence more than 240 years ago. In the 20th century, so did Japan, South Korea, and France; and in the 21st, so did Bhutan.

So yes, happiness has sometimes been overdone, misunderstood, and treated superficially in America. But it is not something to dismiss.

In fact, as many of us now fight to uphold what is truly great about America — our grounding values of freedom and equality — it is worth remembering that the right to happiness is also worth fighting for.

Here then are six suggestions derived from some lessons learned in 2017:

1. Refuse to let the headlines determine how you feel and, instead, make positive values your “ground zero.”



We all have a limit, and I hit mine about the state of America somewhere in the early summer. After months of being whipsawed about by news of the latest forces of destruction coming from Washington, D.C., I decided enough was enough. It was time to choose well what to focus on.

To name only one of the most recent worthy things: the humanitarian crisis in Puerto Rico as a result of Hurricane Maria, the latest climate-charged hurricane. For everyone there, we must weep; and, more importantly, we must act. We must focus on doing what we can to help.

As for the things unworthy of our attention, there is the daily stream of reckless and destructive actions and words coming from the White House. As Thomas Friedman recently wrote in The New York Times:

“There was no good time for Donald Trump to be president. But this is a uniquely bad time for us to have a race-baiting, science-denying divider in chief. He is impossible to ignore, and yet reacting to his daily antics only makes us stupid—only makes our society less focused on the huge adaptation challenges at hand.”

So we need to not set ourselves up to simply react to the latest outrage but to identify a new “ground zero” that sets our attitude and hopefully our actions for the day: namely, the values of truth, kindness, compassion, justice, and love — those qualities America and Americans need now.

2. Notice that people are being kinder to each other and see in that an enormously affirming reminder of the good in human nature.

In public places and private ones, people are responding to the rise of hatred and division with more gentleness and compassion.

This is not true everywhere, of course. Social conflict and violence have risen, egged on most unconscionably by the person who currently holds the most powerful political office in our land. But this we know. This is what we see in the news.

What we need to be inspired by is what we see on the street, on the ride to work, while waiting in line at the supermarket. In small everyday moments, people seem a little more thoughtful, as if we are quietly signaling to each other: We’re still here. We’re still good people. And indeed we are.

3. Recognize that it does not actually achieve anything positive to wallow in the bad news of the moment.



The Dalai Lama offers this wise and simple (which is not to say easy) mindset: “If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need to worry. If it’s not fixable, then there is no help in worrying. There is no benefit in worrying whatsoever.”

This could, of course, be used as an excuse to not engage in any of the many social problems that face us in America today. But that is not the point of this teaching. To the contrary, it inspires more action by focusing us on where we can do something helpful.

4. See positive actions, including your own, in a larger context.

When asked what advice he had for someone who found it difficult to experience joy because of all the suffering in the world, Nobel Peace Prize-winner Desmond Tutu responded: “You are not meant on your own to resolve all of these massive problems. Do what you can.”

He then went on to suggest that we think about that very thing that, again, we are unlikely to find in the news: the millions of people who do care about contributing something good to the world.

People who hold some of the most powerful positions in America right now may not be leading with caring and compassion for others. And it is shocking to see how much hatred remains in in our country.

But the majority of Americans, like all people, aspire to be caring human beings. And — in the spirit of Vaclav Havel’s wonderful phrase, “the power of the powerless” — we have not yet begun to explore how truly powerful we can be.

5. Research shows that we are more likely to contribute to the greater social good if we are happy.

We’ve all felt this: When we’re unhappy, we have little to give. But when we’re happy, we’re much more likely to lend a hand, to be more patient and kind with others.

And it turns out this applies to social change, as well. When we’re happy, we’re more likely to help make the world a better place.

Specifically, research shows that people who are happy are more likely to vote, do volunteer work, participate in public activities, offer to help others, and be effective problem-solvers.

6. Let in the wisdom of those who have navigated dark times before.



There have been many incidents in recent American history that rocked our world: 9-11, Hurricane Katrina, the economic crash of 2008.

But the election of a man like Donald Trump to the presidency – especially at a time of so many time-sensitive crises, from climate change to the threat of nuclear war with North Korea – is a wholly unique event.

It is a dark and frightening chapter in American history and, because of our global significance, the world. How dark it gets, and what good might come of it, remains to be seen.

But in the meantime, we need courage: a courage we can believe in. And in this, as in the face of any great challenge, it helps to turn to those who have been here before. Case-in-point: the experience of the late Nobel Peace Prize winner and Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel, who said:

“I know and I speak from experience, that even in the midst of darkness, it is possible to create light and share warmth with one another; that even on the edge of the abyss, it is possible to dream exalted dreams of compassion; that it is possible to be free and strengthen the ideals of freedom, even within prison walls; that even in exile, friendship becomes an anchor.”

And so…In the midst of today’s darkness in America, on the edge of what sometimes looks like an abyss, where it is possible to feel in exile in a newly unrecognizable country, this may be exactly what we need remember:

We can create light and share warmth, dream dreams of compassion, and strengthen our ideals of freedom.

But we cannot go it alone.

We need the anchor of each other.

What is working for you?

 

Filed under: Nurturing Happiness and Gratitude, No Matter What Tagged: America, Featured, happiness, kindness, social conflict, social good

On that ill-fated night last November, I stepped out of an election party that had gone south to call my 12-year-old son and learned something that feels ever-more-important today — in the wake of the rising threat of nuclear war with North Korea; and Hurricane Harvey, Irma, and Maria’s in-your-face demonstration of a radically changing climate.

I was standing in a backyard garden, finding solace in the full moon overhead, which suggested a gentle constancy in the world, no matter the madness unfolding below.

But with my son’s “hello,” I sensed something I had never heard in him before. This boy is, after all, the most positive person I have ever known. I occasionally tell him to make a sad face because he is so incapable of it, it turns out funny. He was once asked a routine question by a doctor–Do you ever feel depressed?–and looked incredulous. The surest way to challenge him to rise to something is to tell him he can’t do it.

Now, he was beyond disappointed that his woman lost. He was despondent that this most ill-suited man won.

After several minutes of commiserating, I heard myself say: “But it’s not the end of the world.”

“It may be,” he responded.

My heart sank, and I did what a mother does in such circumstances. I told him that bad things happen but people all over the world have always risen to right wrongs, and we would, too. I followed this with a string of what felt like platitudes even as I said them.

Still, part of me thought his words were those of a young person who did not yet have the experience to know that people really do overcome travesties. That human nature is inherently good. That there truly are more of us who do our best to lead with kindness — not with the cruelty, mendacity, vindictiveness, and titanic self-centeredness of America’s newly elected president.

And then came Trump’s speech this week to the United Nations in which he threatened to “totally destroy” North Korea. In a year of relentlessly reckless rhetoric, this was unprecedented and truly frightening. It brought back my son’s response to my then somewhat flippant “It’s not the end of the world.”

In less than one year, this man has brought us closer to the threat of nuclear war and turned his back on the cataclysmic threat of climate change. There is reason for children and adults alike to worry that, unless others powerfully intervene, he could bring us to the brink — if not of the end of the world — of the end of the world as we know it.

That is the reality of where we are at. Now here is the good news and a few ideas about how we might talk with children about it:

[image error]Andreas via Flickr https://goo.gl/yo3AXT

First, we must ask children how they are thinking and feeling about events in the world.

Surely, it’s right for young people to spend most of their time engaged in other things. And quite likely, many children will brush off a question like this. But they need to know that they can talk to us about it when they are ready, and asking them signals that.

Second, we must recognize that acceptance of reality is not fatalistic; far from it, it is the precursor to change. 

In The World We Have, the Vietnamese Buddhist monk and peace activist Thich Nhat Hahn observes that when people learn they are about to die of cancer or some other illness, their first reaction is often to deny or otherwise struggle against that reality. In their struggling, they create yet more suffering. But when they give up the struggle and find acceptance, they begin to find peace and relax — and, in that new place, they sometimes have a better chance to overcome their illness.

And so it is, he suggests, in our relationship to the natural world. “We have to learn to accept the end of this civilization of ours,” he writes. “If we can accept it, we will become more peaceful… We touch the truth of impermanence and then we have peace. When we have peace, there will be hope again. With this kind of peace we can make use of the technology that is available to us to save this planet of ours.”

The same truth applies now: When we become brave enough to accept the reality of the threats that face us today, when we come into a right relationship to our own vulnerability and courage, we can find a different kind of peace — and then act neither from a willfully blind or anxious place but a more clear-eyed and wiser one. So while there is plenty of reason to be afraid today, let us not stop there: Let us move to the acceptance that leads us forward to the next (and here) final essential step.

Third, we must understand, embrace, believe in, and teach radical hope. 

The difference between optimism and hope has been widely noted. One of my favorite characterizations comes from Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, who has said: “Optimism is the belief that things are going to get better. Hope is the belief that we can make things better. Optimism is a passive virtue, hope is an active one. It takes no courage to be an optimist, but it does need courage to hope.”

But what is radical hope?

In a recent brilliant conversation on the topic with Junot Diaz, the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer, on Krista Tippet’s On Being, Diaz makes several points that are worth quoting at length:

“If today, the last few months, or the Trump administration is all you’ve got, it sure looks bleak. But when I think about me, when I think about my family — hey, I always say this, but it’s true — people used to own me. White people used to own bodies like mine. And when I look at what my community has done to change that, when I look over what my community has done to make democracy possible, when I look at what my community has taught this world about justice and about humanity, in the face of abysmal inhumanities, well, I’ve got to tell you, that alters the calculus of hope. And it gives me hope.”

Then he goes onto say: “In other words, my love of life, my belief and faith in my people’s liberation doesn’t come from the obstacles that hegemonic formations throw up. It comes from my ancestry, from my communities. And therefore, yeah, there’s an obstacle in front of us. We’ve seen these before. Might be a bit terrifying, might be a bit unusual, might be a bit new, but onward we go. We have broken every chain this society has tried to throw around our necks. They don’t stop trying. We will break them again.”

Finally, in what cuts perhaps most closely to something we can all relate to now, he says: “… I don’t trust our politicians. I don’t trust our mainstream religious figures. I don’t trust our business leaders. I don’t trust any of the sort of folks who already have power and have already shown us how little they can do for us, and they’re showing us their cowardice and their avarice — I don’t trust any of those people. But I do trust in the collective genius of all the people who have survived these wicked systems. I trust in that. I think from the bottom will the genius come that makes our ability to live with each other possible. I believe that with all my heart.”

This too is what gives me hope now–something that is much deeper than any given moment, any given words or action or person. It is a trust in us, in the goodness of our most deeply human nature, and in that simple proposition: “I think from the bottom will the genius come that makes our ability to live with each other possible.”

The very idea propels a wholesome curiosity: What will you or I or, better, us bring forth today?

 

 

Filed under: Children, Climate Change, Courage & Resilience, Hope, Parenting, Social Action Tagged: Featured, Hope, Hurricanes, Junot Diaz, Krista Tippet, North Korea, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Thich Nhat Hanh, trump

On a climb 9,000 feet up Mount Shasta last month, I was surprised to hear the sound of a cell phone. I’d thought I was blissfully removed from contact with the rest of the world—and no contact meant no reading the news and feeling all the emotions that come with that these days. The ping told me I could take a peek.

But for one wonderful week, I resisted—simply climbing, hiking, swimming, and falling asleep under spectacular skies and mountain peaks. It was idyllic. Then, on the way home, my children and I stopped for lunch at the Hi-Lo Cafe in a town called Weed, and I succumbed to my phone while waiting for a BLT.

It was the second day of the Charlottesville rally by the so-called alt-right: white nationalists, white supremacists, and neo-Nazis—and the day the President spoke about it in words as appalling as the event itself.

This was my jarring re-entry from America the beautiful to America the ugly. And it’s sure not over yet. Indeed, as recently as September 14, Trump again blamed both sides—as if there is any moral equivalence between neo-Nazis and people supporting for equality.

So how do we not merely survive this ugly chapter in America but do so in a way that will allow us to still recognize ourselves as Americans when this is over—perhaps even become better people as a result?

Here are three strategies that may help.

Think about the news like food—or, more directly, be wise about your news intake.

At first, this might seem tantamount to hiding your head in the sand—or, worse, making it easier for those doing the damage to keep on doing it. But what if that’s not true? What if making more deliberate choices about the news will make you more capable of doing something useful in the world?

To read this entire post, visit the Elephant Journal. 

Filed under: Change, social & personal, Courage & Resilience, Happiness, Social Action Tagged: activism, Charlottesville, neo-Nazis, news, trump

It’s been two years since I put any writing out in public.

Not that I haven’t been writing. I’ve been writing a great deal: working on a new incarnation of a book that I hope is a little bit wiser version of the book I’ve always wanted to write while drafting essays and many wannabe blog posts.

But I haven’t put anything out in public because of other things. Divorce. Seeing my oldest son off to college. The unbelievable changes that have been happening in America since the presidential election. Strings of natural and human disasters, and threats of more. We’ve all been here. And, as a result, I’ve found myself in a different relationship to the theme of much of the writing I’d been doing.

Previously, I wrote a lot about climate change–more specifically, about how those of us who are raising or teaching or in some other way caring for children in this world can best respond to it. It was a theme driven by my own need to find answers, for it felt unconscionable to me, as a Mom, to know what I know about climate change and then carry on as if I didn’t.

Climate change was a theme I’d come to after an earlier chapter of writing about gay rights. When I fell in love with a woman after years of being with men, it had rocked my identity. I found I needed to understand how this prejudice business developed and why. And when we decided to have children together, I felt a soul-deep dedication to do something about it: to try to do my small part to make the world a better place for families like mine.

In time, however, I recognized climate change as ultimately a greater threat to all families than prejudice and inequality, and changed my focus to trying to do my tiny part on this colossal front.

And then came the election. Was the threat to democracy now a greater challenge still, I wondered? That may be an impossible question to answer but it is certainly true that the progress we were finally making on climate change hit a giant new roadblock.

Thankfully, there are avenues other than the political for making progress–and many brilliant and good-hearted people are hard at work doing that, from mayors to businesses to wildly inspiring innovators. But there is no sugarcoating the fact that the last thing we needed to address the climate crisis is the administration and Congress we now have in Washington, D.C.

I felt stumped. And, yes, worse than that.

But then I realized there was something else that was drawing me, a theme that flowed from all these issues and experiences, that has been a lifelong fascination, and that I believe is more than a little relevant today. It is this:

How do we rise to the times we live in and become the best human beings we can be not in spite of but because of the struggles we face?

In The Book of Joy, a conversation between the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu captured by Douglas Abrams, Tutu describes Nelson Mandela as a “very angry young man, or youngish man” when he went to prison. “He believed firmly that the enemy had to be decimated, and he and his comrades had been found guilty in a travesty of justice. That is the guy who went in, aggressive and angry.”

Twenty-seven years later, the Archbishop continued, “he emerges on the other side as someone of immense magnanimity, because in an extraordinary way his suffering helped him to grow. Where they thought it was going to break him, it helped him.”

Some would have been embittered rather than ennobled, Adams observed.

“Yes, of course, some people it would embitter,” the Archbishop said. But he continued, “One has learned in very many instances, that for us to grow in generosity of spirit we have to undergo in some way or another a diminishing, a frustration.”

Physical strength comes from working against resistance. And, he added, “we grow in kindness when our kindness is tested.”

So how now, in America, do we find our way to that kind of trajectory? I think it requires answering three questions.

How do we find happiness and meaning, or cultivate compassion and courage, in times of a corrupt and dysfunctional federal government; a new resurgence of prejudice, hatred, and civil conflict; and (in what is apparent to all but those who willfully pretend otherwise) a dramatically changing climate?
How do we prepare children for the future when we don’t know what it will bring?
And how do we contribute to positive change in the world as it is right now?

I’m not an expert on any of these subjects. I’m not sure anyone is. But I care deeply about them. And I believe they are questions worth asking.

“The world is changing at such a rapid rate that it’s turning us all into amateurs,” Austin Kleon writes in Show Your Work. 

It’s an immensely liberating idea–and a warmly reassuring one, too. Because, in this time of great uncertainty and chaos, it turns us toward each other with a new opportunity to explore: How can we do better than this?

 

Filed under: Happiness, Parenting, Social Action, Writing Tagged: Austin Kleon, climate change, Dalai Lama, democracy, Featured, Parenting, personal growth

It’s been two years since I put any writing out in public.

Not that I haven’t been writing. I’ve been writing a great deal: working on a new incarnation of a book that I hope is a little bit wiser version of the book I’ve always wanted to write while drafting essays and many wannabe blog posts.

But I haven’t put anything out in public because of other things. Divorce. Seeing my oldest son off to college. The unbelievable changes that have been happening in America since the presidential election. Strings of natural and human disasters, and threats of more. We’ve all been here. And, as a result, I’ve found myself in a different relationship to the theme of much of the writing I’d been doing.

Previously, I wrote a lot about climate change–more specifically, about how those of us who are raising or teaching or in some other way caring for children in this world can best respond to it. It was a theme driven by my own need to find answers, for it felt unconscionable to me, as a Mom, to know what I know about climate change and then carry on as if I didn’t.

Climate change was a theme I’d come to after an earlier chapter of writing about gay rights. When I fell in love with a woman after years of being with men, it had rocked my identity. I found I needed to understand how this prejudice business developed and why. And when we decided to have children together, I felt a soul-deep dedication to do something about it: to try to do my small part to make the world a better place for families like mine.

In time, however, I recognized climate change as ultimately a greater threat to all families than prejudice and inequality, and changed my focus to trying to do my tiny part on this colossal front.

And then came the election. Was the threat to democracy now a greater challenge still, I wondered? That may be an impossible question to answer but it is certainly true that the progress we were finally making on climate change hit a giant new roadblock.

Thankfully, there are avenues other than the political for making progress–and many brilliant and good-hearted people are hard at work doing that, from mayors to businesses to wildly inspiring innovators. But there is no sugarcoating the fact that the last thing we needed to address the climate crisis is the administration and Congress we now have in Washington, D.C.

I felt stumped. And, yes, worse than that.

But then I realized there was something else that was drawing me, a theme that flowed from all these issues and experiences, that has been a lifelong fascination, and that I believe is more than a little relevant today. It is this:

How do we rise to the times we live in and become the best human beings we can be not in spite of but because of the struggles we face?

In The Book of Joy, a conversation between the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu captured by Douglas Abrams, Tutu describes Nelson Mandela as a “very angry young man, or youngish man” when he went to prison. “He believed firmly that the enemy had to be decimated, and he and his comrades had been found guilty in a travesty of justice. That is the guy who went in, aggressive and angry.”

Twenty-seven years later, the Archbishop continued, “he emerges on the other side as someone of immense magnanimity, because in an extraordinary way his suffering helped him to grow. Where they thought it was going to break him, it helped him.”

Some would have been embittered rather than ennobled, Adams observed.

“Yes, of course, some people it would embitter,” the Archbishop said. But he continued, “One has learned in very many instances, that for us to grow in generosity of spirit we have to undergo in some way or another a diminishing, a frustration.”

Physical strength comes from working against resistance. And, he added, “we grow in kindness when our kindness is tested.”

So how now, in America, do we find our way to that kind of trajectory? I think it requires answering three questions.

How do we find happiness and meaning, or cultivate compassion and courage, in times of a corrupt and dysfunctional federal government; a new resurgence of prejudice, hatred, and civil conflict; and (in what is apparent to all but those who willfully pretend otherwise) a dramatically changing climate?
How do we prepare children for the future when we don’t know what it will bring?
And how do we contribute to positive change in the world as it is right now?

I’m not an expert on any of these subjects. I’m not sure anyone is. But I care deeply about them. And I believe they are questions worth asking.

“The world is changing at such a rapid rate that it’s turning us all into amateurs,” Austin Kleon writes in Show Your Work. 

It’s an immensely liberating idea–and a warmly reassuring one, too. Because, in this time of great uncertainty and chaos, it turns us toward each other with a new opportunity to explore: How can we do better than this?

 

Filed under: Featured, Happiness, Parenting, Social Action, Writing Tagged: Austin Kleon, climate change, Dalai Lama, democracy, Featured, Parenting, personal growth

It’s been two years since I put any writing out in public.

Not that I haven’t been writing. I’ve been writing a great deal: working on a new incarnation of a book that I hope is a little bit wiser version of the book I’ve always wanted to write while drafting essays and many wannabe blog posts.

But I haven’t put anything out in public because of other things. Divorce. Seeing my oldest son off to college. The unbelievable changes that have been happening in America since the presidential election. Strings of natural and human disasters, and threats of more. We’ve all been here. And, as a result, I’ve found myself in a different relationship to the theme of much of the writing I’d been doing.

Previously, I wrote a lot about climate change–more specifically, about how those of us who are raising or teaching or in some other way caring for children in this world can best respond to it. It was a theme driven by my own need to find answers, for it felt unconscionable to me, as a Mom, to know what I know about climate change and then carry on as if I didn’t.

Climate change was a theme I’d come to after an earlier chapter of writing about gay rights. When I fell in love with a woman after years of being with men, it had rocked my identity. I found I needed to understand how this prejudice business developed and why. And when we decided to have children together, I felt a soul-deep dedication to do something about it: to try to do my small part to make the world a better place for families like mine.

In time, however, I recognized climate change as ultimately a greater threat to all families than prejudice and inequality, and changed my focus to trying to do my tiny part on this colossal front.

And then came the election. Was the threat to democracy now a greater challenge still, I wondered? That may be an impossible question to answer but it is certainly true that the progress we were finally making on climate change hit a giant new roadblock.

Thankfully, there are avenues other than the political for making progress–and many brilliant and good-hearted people are hard at work doing that, from mayors to businesses to wildly inspiring innovators. But there is no sugarcoating the fact that the last thing we needed to address the climate crisis is the administration and Congress we now have in Washington, D.C.

I felt stumped. And, yes, worse than that.

But then I realized there was something else that was drawing me, a theme that flowed from all these issues and experiences, that has been a lifelong fascination, and that I believe is more than a little relevant today. It is this:

How do we rise to the times we live in and become the best human beings we can be not in spite of but because of the struggles we face?

In The Book of Joy, a conversation between the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu captured by Douglas Abrams, Tutu describes Nelson Mandela as a “very angry young man, or youngish man” when he went to prison. “He believed firmly that the enemy had to be decimated, and he and his comrades had been found guilty in a travesty of justice. That is the guy who went in, aggressive and angry.”

Twenty-seven years later, the Archbishop continued, “he emerges on the other side as someone of immense magnanimity, because in an extraordinary way his suffering helped him to grow. Where they thought it was going to break him, it helped him.”

Some would have been embittered rather than ennobled, Adams observed.

“Yes, of course, some people it would embitter,” the Archbishop said. But he continued, “One has learned in very many instances, that for us to grow in generosity of spirit we have to undergo in some way or another a diminishing, a frustration.” Physical strength comes from working against resistance. And, “we grow in kindness when our kindness is tested.”

So how now, in America, do we find our way to that kind of trajectory? More specifically:

How do we find happiness and meaning, or cultivate compassion and courage, in times of a corrupt and dysfunctional federal government; a new resurgence of prejudice, hatred, and civil conflict; and (in what is apparent to all but those who willfully pretend otherwise) a dramatically changing climate?
How do we prepare children for the future when we don’t know what it will bring?
And how do we contribute to positive change in the world as it is right now?

I’m not an expert on any of these subjects. I’m not sure anyone is. But I care deeply about them. And I believe they are questions worth asking.

“The world is changing at such a rapid rate that it’s turning us all into amateurs,” Austin Kleon writes in Show Your Work. 

It’s an immensely liberating idea–and a warmly reassuring one, too. Because, in this time of great uncertainty and chaos, it turns us toward each other with a new opportunity to explore: How can we do better than this?

 

Filed under: Happiness, Parenting, Social Action, Writing Tagged: Austin Kleon, climate change, Dalai Lama, democracy, election, gay rights, Parenting, personal growth