This is such a wise, compassionate, loving gift. And I am reminded of my daily spiritual practice of gratitude and grief. Both are interrelated and woven together. It is the experience of both deep sorrow and deep gratitude which helps me to live in greater balance in these incredibly unbalanced times ― and which keeps my heart fluid, open, tender-strong and loving. Indeed, it is not only okay to be weary in these times, it is human. With deep compassion and caring for us all... 💗 Molly
You should be a little weary right now.
If you are, be grateful.
That is a good thing.
That weariness is confirmation that your heart is working properly.
It is your humanity responding to so much inhumanity around you.
It is evidence of your goodness still fighting to feel useful.
Your heavy fatigue is the internal alarm of an empathy that will not allow you to proceed unaffected while so many grieve here, while war rages half a world away, while the planet burns, while there is so much brokenness in the place you call home.
To not feel any of that would be the red flag.
To not be brought to tears now and again would be a far more worrisome condition.
To not occasionally be leveled by the sheer volume of the burdens in your orbit would be a symptom of a far greater sickness within you.
It would mean that like far too many people around you, someone else’s pain is no longer of consequence to you.
It would mean that you had learned how to anesthetize yourself from the suffering in your path, that you no longer felt emotionally tethered to other human beings.
You being perfectly fine would be a dire diagnosis.
And that would be a far greater tragedy than all of the sources of your sadness, because it would mean that these days have claimed yet another compassionate human being and allowed apathy to supplant the space where empathy should reside. It would be proof of one more person joining the ranks of the willfully oblivious.
Listen friend, I know that giving a damn is the more perilous path, which is why so many refuse to take it anymore. It is the treacherous journey that will keep you up at night; the one that will furrow your brow and bring you to tears and frequently break your heart—but there is no other worthwhile way to live.
You are better because of the weariness, more human as a result of your soul’s fatigue. The challenge is not to be so completely overtaken by it that you lose the ability to care, that you finally reach the threshold of what you can safely bear, that you fall and cannot get to your feet again to enter the fray.
You expiring early is not the object here.
Becoming a martyr of your own heart isn’t the goal.
You being here a long time and caring a great deal, is.
So, I want you to take care of yourself.
Withdraw into the places of stillness and silence that give you rest.
Nurture your mind and your body with good things: with music and art and food that give you joy.
Shield yourself with prayer or meditation or exercise.
Surround yourself with people who too care deeply, so that you are reminded you are not alone.
Hydrate and sleep and be selfish about maintaining something of a balance between the burdens of the world and your ability to carry them.
But don’t expect you will not still be tired much of the time, that your heart rate will not sometimes rise so loud that you hear it in your head, that you will not temporarily be brought to tears and to your knees.
You may be tempted to envy those who don’t seem to care, because of how easy it seems for them but resist that.
In days like these when so many are in such pain and when so many people have chosen not to be changed by that fact—your heaviness is understandable and actually quite beautiful.
You should be weary right now.
I’m glad that you still are.
* * *
Please go here for the original: https://johnpavlovitz.com/2022/03/07/you-should-be-weary-right-now/
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