Activists in reality

Good people do not become less good when the world becomes cruel. Humane and compassionate people do not lose their compassion or humanity simply because disasters and crimes unfold around them. 

This is a kind of built-in fear that has been surfacing often in the clinic, especially in sessions with activists struggling through this during this complicated period, when the world can seem morally bankrupt and caring people experience genuine anguish. To all of them, I find myself repeating the same thing over and over: this deep fear is misleading. Above all, it misses the essence of humanity.

As someone who hears daily about the terrible things people do to their children, their partners or one another, I have never feared that my own humanity was in danger. And I want to pause here for a moment to explain why. 

In the world many of us were raised in, the world shaped by the fearful, flattened, black-and-white consciousness given to us with our mothers’ milk, a magnificent and innovative tectonic shift has taken place. We are moving away from a reality in which we believe we must constantly adapt and position ourselves in relation to the world around us, and toward a new consciousness that asserts the opposite: reality itself is experienced through the way we stand within it. 

In other words, instead of deciding who we are and where we’re heading based on how severe the situation is, reality is measured through our consciousness, our actions, and the language we speak to ourselves.

Without becoming overly philosophical: the common way in which people “understand” whether they’re ‘good’ or ‘bad’ strips the human experience of the content that heals, builds and rises again from the dust. It also conditions our sense of worth and moral legitimacy based on external circumstances.

How foolish, debilitating and oppressive is that? Extremely so. So much so that paradoxically, the sweetest and best people, whose hearts are full of love, are often the ones who collapse the wondrous miracle of their own creation. They ignore the importance of believing in themselves, especially now.

Why does this happen? Not because they’re self-righteous or sanctimonious do-gooders. It happens because the frameworks they use to understand suffering, evil and despair are deeply lacking.

What’s missing? A deeper understanding of the endless, unshakable connection between good and evil. They lack the kind of hope rooted in unconditional love, and the strengthening knowledge that we aren’t alone, that the self that remains present even in the face of horror is still radiant, creative, and capable of generating life and healing. 

We don’t need to change reality. We need to change the place from which we relate to reality. 

Any language that attempts to decipher and explain suffering through guilt, shame, and blame is ultimately destructive, because those currencies cannot truly be exchanged for healing, not  even in the face of rape, hunger or suicidality.

To remain a source  of optimism and hope isn’t  extraordinary or larger-than-life work, but it is essential work and a top priority. Yes, sometimes it requires detaching from the emotional current of the outside world in order to build a steadier internal flow.

To hold firmly to the knowledge that your heart is good, that it generates love and healing regardless of circumstance, and that its value doesn’t depend on comparison to anyone or anything or anything else is a life-changing responsibility.

As I see it now, desperate posts written in response to war and destruction, posts that cruelly stab at the already-guilty heart, won’t help anyone. They never have, not in the face of countless quiet atrocities that continue every day behind closed doors, in bedrooms, offices, stairwells and forgotten corners of human life. 

What helps is recognizing the beauty of the compassionate heart, and the healing power given to us. What helps is understanding that love itself changes reality. 

Because that ability gives us a sense of meaning, capability and worth, the very things we so often fail to protect in the face of roaring cannons.

For hope, you don’t need anything else. You need yourself. Only yourself.

And I promise you: that is enough.