In the last several days since the insurrection at the capitol, I’ve found myself almost involuntarily glued to my screens. I compulsively scroll through social media to understand the evolving perspectives and perceptions of what’s happening. I often repost perspectives that I find particularly compelling, out of some (possibly misguided) sense of duty to boost these perspectives. I check news sites for the latest political condemnation or hard-hitting columnist opinion. I’ve even found myself following and contributing to the Slack conversations among a small group of college friends and acquaintances, which are generally the same fundamental debates that this group has been having for years, just applied to the most current events; debates that aren’t going to change anyone’s mind, often lack nuance, and are chock-full of condescension and sniping.
When I’m able to step back for a moment from the compulsion of all of it, I hate it.
I love learning from others, I love connecting with people, I love sharing my ideas with those who want them, I love making a difference in the world. But when I am giving in to my compulsive urges in these times, I am allowing myself to be sucked into toxicity.
I want to be very clear about what I mean when I use the word “toxicity.” There’s a trend among certain types of people, some of whom I am highly adjacent given my involvement in the Burning Man world, to label any negative ideas or feelings as “toxic” or “bad vibes” and to ignore or avoid them so they can live in the pristine fantasy world afforded them by whatever rock of privilege they live under. The world is a terrible place, and to engage with the world in a responsible way is to engage with toxicity. I know that.
What I mean is that, when I engage in these spaces in this manner devoid of intention, I am doing so with my own toxicity. I look back at some of the things I’ve written or reposted and I wonder why I did that. Was I virtue signaling? Was I trying to be hurtful to someone I disagree with? Was I being purposely provocative to fulfill some sort of image? Was I acting from my best self?
That last one is the real question to ask. It gets at the real issue of toxicity for me. Perhaps this is better described by the brilliant Resmaa Menakem in his acclaimed “My Grandmother’s Hands” as involving the distinction between responding from clean pain and responding from dirty pain. Menakem defines clean pain as choosing integrity over fear: “letting go of what is familiar but harmful, finding the best parts of yourself, and making a leap—with no guarantee of safety or praise.” The alternative path is responding from dirty pain. “When people respond from their most wounded parts and choose dirty pain, they only create more of it, both for themselves and for other people.” Menakem says that, when we metabolize pain into clean pain, we are better able to act from the best parts of ourselves.
This is an experience I’ve become more and more aware of over the last year. Too often, the goodness of acting from the best parts of myself has been made clear only in juxtaposition to the badness of acting from the worst parts of myself. Looking back on my compulsive and hurtful behavior from a place of groundedness helps me to really feel the power of acting with kindness and intention. Through my ongoing mindfulness and self-reflection, I’m learning to see my mindless behaviors, words, and actions and to recognize that those are not how I want to interact with the world. In reflecting on my worst self, I’m able to see that I was not exhibiting the kindness, love, empathy, nuance, mindfulness, groundedness that I aspire to live with.
I want to believe that I am getting better at spotting my mindless behaviors more quickly the more I practice this mindfulness. I hope one day to be able to intercede on my worst parts before they have even caused harm. But that’s an aspiration and a work in progress.
It’s in times of great uncertainty when I find myself sucked into unintentional behaviors. Such behaviors are becoming easier to spot, as they typically take the form of more and more screen time, at the expense of my other habits. I saw it happen at the start of the pandemic, I saw it in full force in the weeks after the murder of George Floyd, I saw it around the election, and I’m seeing it now. I suspect many of you are seeing this within yourselves as well, and I think it’s worth examining. (Perhaps in my next post.)
For now, my advice to myself and to you is to adopt intentionality and awareness. The news will change and evolve, but we aren’t helping anything by compulsively watching the train wreck. If you have things you can do to change the world (like calling your elected officials), go ahead and do them with intention. Otherwise, set intentional boundaries for yourself (like no screens after 9pm). But most importantly, take moments throughout the day to interrogate your own behaviors. Try to recognize when you are responding to the world from clean pain or from dirty pain.
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