Witnessing
The opposite of dreading
I have been spending a lot of time lately thinking about witness, about how witness itself is a kind of poetics, or poesis, which means ‘making.’ By which I mean I have been wondering about how we make the world in our witnessing of it. Or maybe I have come to understand, to believe, how we witness makes our world. This is why attending to what we love, what we are astonished by, what flummoxes us with beauty, is such crucial work. Such rigorous work. Likewise, studying how we care, and are cared for, how we tend and are tended to, how we give and are given, is such necessary work. It makes the world. ~Ross Gay, from “How to Love the World.”
This morning, I sat to witness the “one inch picture frame”1 of my life as it literally appeared above me as two clouds—giant white pillows—came together to form a star of light. What if I witness this small frame and nothing more. What if I witness to a star of light—and I just did—could it sustain me when the clouds press together and consume the light into dread? Today, the frame is delightful.
Dread…the anticipation of something opposite delight. Future rather than now.
Last night, hugging my beloved first nephew, Joe, before he left again from his short visit to be stationed with the Army in Alaska, I was filled with dread. Dread at this goodbye. Dread hung itself around my heart and pulled me to mourning this sweet child—a man now surely in age—and all these sweet children, gone in so many ways. Dreading all the possibilities that might lie ahead. So many possibilities to fear, so much advance missing to do. Then, I thought of something I’d heard recently: “You don’t have permission to grieve this person yet.” There he was, Joe, standing right there before me, under a blue evening sky, with a twinkling smile, and strong arms holding me in a giant, warm hug. No advance grief. So I took 10 minutes to delight, to savor with each of my sense, and chose to move the moment into my cellular memory instead
.
Joe has flown off and I am grieving, but not dreading. Instead I’m recalling, holding each of the sensory memories up like tiny pieces of beautifully colored sea glass, beholding the color, the texture, the smell. Each piece of memory brilliantly framed in the one inch square of my memory.
I realized from this practice what else I’ve been dreading. I began thinking of my upcoming retreat to Greece, just a month away. Nervous for all the wrong things that could be and cataloging them into a lock box in my brain has become my favorite form of control. Dread really is a form of control. Not letting myself anticipate hope, joy, delight means I don’t have to let go.
Yet, what if I remember there are people—in this example, the people organizing the trip, the resort owners and staff, all who’ve been doing this work, bringing trips together for years? What if I remember this lovely country of Greece has been welcoming and sustaining visitors for eons? What if I recall that I know how to ride a variety of waves, that I’m skilled at leading retreats, that I love travel and connection with people? What if I recall the anticipatory dread I felt for all that didn’t come to pass on my 2019 Baja retreat? What a waste of energy.
I soften. I let go. I come back to delight in witnessing. And so I make my world anew.
The early morning thick blanket of clouds has begun to separate. There is more blue, more sunlight above me. The air is still cool. I’ve sat long enough for sound to shift—the birds are louder, the rooster is awake, my husband is chopping down a tree, and from the nearby VA hospital the sound of Taps just announced the start of a new day. I am right here. Witnessing. Part of it all.
I’m filled with anticipatory hope for my upcoming retreat trip to Greece. We’re nearly full but have a few spaces available if you find yourself in a position to travel together next month, October 11-18. Find information here if so…or call me and I’ll tell you all about it! 401-440-0279
Join me on Wednesday Night for local yoga in person on the farm or Friday Mornings 9-10 via Zoom for online live yoga.
Wednesday Night, 6:30-7:30 PM, join me and Sara Carley Pena on her Soul Food Farm for an evening of yoga. Outdoor yoga reminds me to stay present with the changing waves of nature and allows me to savor the world around me. Join us at Soul Food Farm, 1665 Persimmon Ln., Shepherdstown, WV 25443. Appropriate for standing practitioners. Bring your own yoga mat and desired props for an hour of mindful movement combined with ease and restoration. Wednesday nights 6:30-7:30 PM. $10. Message Christa with questions and to register: 401-440-0279
Friday Morning 9:30-10:30 AM: Yoga Made Accessible. Practicitioners are given ways to feel challenged and supported, with mats and chairs. Practice in person at 211 East New Street, Shepherdstown, WV, or online via Zoom. Post-class recording sent. $8 for paying subscribers / $15 non-paying subscribers.
An idea from the brilliant writer Anne Lammot who says to witness, observe, and write daily within a one inch picture frame of awareness, focus, and ideas.
