Let’s Sit Together for a Bit…

I Don’t Know Much…

Perhaps you know the song lyric that has been on my mind today with just these four words— I don’t know much. For now, I want to talk about just this part with you— this thought alone could be a complete sentence.

If you were here with me now as we process together, I’d probably invite you to sit outside on the front porch with me. If I slow down enough to imagine it— here is what I envision. We find the chairs that suit us best, take a seat and watch the people walking by with their dogs and listen to the sounds of spring that surround us. The weather is an uncanny reflection of our current status as the break in the rain today mirrors how many of us are feeling. It has looked like it could rain all day today though you could never quite tell if they were rain clouds or just a lingering cover of gray. Fittingly, we recognize the signs that it may need to rain again soon. We watch the wind blow through the trees as they bend gracefully but do not break. Their movement mimics the sway I found myself making as we talked, just before I waved you over for a visit.

Perhaps we find ourselves chuckling and smiling in gratitude as we notice the aspens have again leafed out and there is just enough wind to allow their new leaves to once again look like cheering pom poms as if to say— “I see you, keep going.” We might let out an audible sigh, and allow ourselves to grieve in the ways that suit each of us. Honoring that may look like tears from me and cussing or silence for you. Somehow we express this grief in the ways and length we all need in this moment.

We might notice and recognize the comfort that comes from stepping out of the four walls of a building and into community with the trees, the birds, the sky, the frogs. I can picture us sitting in silence, no words needing to be spoken as we take refuge in being part of the bigger circle we are all part of once again. For a moment we recognize there is a loosening of tension, more ease that comes with the comfort of company where no words are necessary. Being with nature allows the life that is beyond human to work their gifts in calming our bodies back to the realization we are all still here together. This awareness soothes and reminds us to breathe. We are in this together— even when we have gotten how big that together really is. Our body’s response tells us although our minds may have forgotten how large our circle of belonging is, our body’s remember.

What Can We Do?

After several minutes of resetting ourselves to the rhythm of all that surrounds us, our conversation naturally leads to us voicing our thoughts out loud. We contemplate what our roles as citizens include. We take comfort in recognizing we feel the urge to participate more fully while also not knowing how to do so. This dance between knowing and not knowing is both painful and necessary. Recognizing the necessity and the discomfort, we agree to stumble through together— agreeing the cost of not participating is too great to bear. We recognize we may need to rest for moments but agree participation is key.

The indifference that seems to be growing with so many losses in the last several years seems to be growing. It is as if we are becoming accustomed to numbing or avoiding the fact so many people are hurting. Attempting to go over, under, around what is in front of us are abundant— how can we remember how to act from being with and going through?

Considering our Roles as Citizens

If you’re new to the blog, this is where you’d find me asking if you’ve read the What to Expect portion of To a life well occupied yet, and suggesting we look at it together. If you’ve been with us for awhile you may recall this blog was intended to be a place where we can come together as humans with the shared goal of stepping into our role as citizens.

Citizens, as defined by Peter Block, means “one who is willing to be accountable for and committed to the well being of the whole.” Furthermore, the whole can mean many things and ultimately we are part of many wholes— “a block, a workplace, a community, a nation, and/or the earth”. [1]

As we sit on the porch, we are reminded we are all part of those wholes. This is not just something we made up as a catchy saying or specific belief system— we can see it, sense it, remember it.

While we share ideas about what being a citizen means to us, we hear a child sweetly singing across the street— “Who’s here today? Who’s here today? Let’s all clap our hands the robin’s here today.” The lilt and lyrics of their singing remind us—there are far more here today than we often consider. We listen to the children’s songs as they noticed the rain clouds, the robins, the deer, the ground, and the people. We listen with awe as they notice so many here— and realize we had only ever thought about acknowledging the people present when we learned that tune. We notice the calm it brings to us recognizing we are part of far more than we regularly consider.

Image description: Two young robin babies peer out of a nest.

Photo by Ventill8 Productions: https://www.pexels.com/photo/black-and-brown-birds-on-brown-nest-5006511/

Bridging Past to the Future
The children have been combining tunes of songs they know with what they are learning from First Nations people about the broader wholes of which they are apart and it is reflected in their noticing. The children have learned from Robin Wall Kimmerer and the rituals of gratitude practiced by the Haudenosaunee people. [2,3] We can’t help but notice this broader honoring of how we all connect grounds us. Instead of making the vastness seem unmanageable— it does the opposite. It reminds us of the larger whole of which we are all a part. That belonging, creates awareness, felt connection, and a desire to take action to show our appreciation for all.

In the children we witness joy, curiosity, and delight as they take in all around them— honoring and appreciating their presence one by one. They are fully immersed in the present and in gratitude. Reminded by all that is well in this moment, we allow that to soak in as we mull over the questions of, “What can we do and what is possible?”

I Don’t Know Much, But I Know…

That’s when the countless times we have found ourselves in situations where we really felt like we didn’t know what to do— and like the song, we didn’t know much… but we knew we loved you… We allowed the fact we loved/cared for others to lead the way.

Oh (I exclaim with my eyes closed and a small sigh) — so many times that were terrifying, cringe worthy, and embarrassing. Yet to aim for perfection would mean inaction. In our inner circles we recognized this inaction is experienced as unloving. On top of that— it hasn’t worked and led to more work in the future. Our imperfect adapting with love allowing us the humility to stumble changed our willingness to move forward, knowing mistakes were likely.

For a brief, surprising moment, we belly laugh as we reminisce about all the other times we were clueless, ill equipped, and terrified to take a next step but found our way anyway when our love and care for others allowed us to get over ourselves and find a way.

We wipe tears from our eyes at the welcome reprieve from the heaviness we have been feeling. This reminiscing reminds us we have been in some incredibly challenging situations before—both on our own and as part of many collectives and yet— we are still here.

There is much to sort out— no doubt. We know there is plenty of heavy work to come. And— somehow we find ourselves feeling lighter. We have taken the time to sit with all we are noticing in ourselves and one another. Like the clouds above us, we have successfully made space to allow all that is in us to be and be expressed. The clouds modeled the way and we allowed ourselves to cry when we needed to cry, laugh when we needed to laugh, express anger and outrage when it too needed to be released.

We talk about how we’d like to commit to being more like clouds and make space for what is instead of we wish or think things to be.

We ponder aloud— Is this what it looks like to participate as a citizen?

Could we do more sitting with prior to action and as part of actions in the many groups that we are part of?

How does showing up with a recognition we don’t know much change how our actions show our care and love for one another?

Does our willingness to entertain the truth that there is much we don’t know make more space for how to show up for one another?

We agree that in our experience, it is a necessary step to any solutions that actually worked. Ignoring, avoiding, dismissing the lived experiences of others does not have a helpful track record.

We wonder how things change when we commit to noticing when we want to outrun, avoid, deny the storm clouds that are clearly upon us. We recognize not everyone has been taught how to sit with and when circumstances are too painful to sit with there is a reason we don’t do so. What if we sit with and commit to adjusting the environment that makes sitting with unbearable?

When we learn and help one another sit with those sensations that pass— what is possible?

Appreciating Clouds in all Forms and Functions

After another short drizzling of rain, the clouds settle into a gentle cover of gray. They are somber— seemingly accepting that they will form in ways that allow full expression needed as well. It is as okay for them to not rain as it is for me to stop crying tonight.

Before you walk home, we pause. We listen again to the sounds of spring— capturing memories of what it feels like to sit with this— all of it. We did not run, we did not avoid. We let it rain, clear, and storm together.


Invitation to Reflect and Take Action

What if we live the lyrics— “I don’t know much, but I know I love you. And that may be all there is to know.”


As we choose our actions in the days to come— how does it change our interactions when we come from a place of showing love in our actions vs. being right?

References and Resources

[1] Block, P., (2018) Community: The Structure of Belonging. Oakland, CA: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc.

[2] Kimmerer, R.W. ( 2013) Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants. Minneapolis, MN: Milkweed Editions

[3]https://danceforallpeople.com/haudenosaunee-thanksgiving-address/

*The third reference offers more about the words and practices of the Haudenosaunee that reminds us of our connection and relationship to all living beings. This ritual and practice of gratitude offers an example of ways that ground, connect, and unite us.