Resiliency: beyond the self-care paradigm
Resiliency fundamentally links us up with the good of the whole.
It connects our wellbeing, our safety, our vitality to the vibrancy and life force of the collective, including the more-than-human beings.
Not too long ago, I received a voicemail from a pastor friend who was doing last minute preparation for a board meeting happening that night. She and I had worked together on some internal structural change for an organization we were both a part of. Most of those changes were focused on bringing the collective into more synchronicity so we could move together more powerfully in critical moments.
As a part of that exploration she had participated in an exercise I led with the group called “flocking” which is an embodied practice I learned from Erin Law that invites emergent distributed leadership and attunement to self and the collective at the same time.
Now, this pastor friend found herself at a similar crossroads with her church and called me right before a meeting to ask for some support. I remember she said something like:
“Lucy, I know you’ve talked about murmuration with us before — that’s what my Session [read: church board] needs right now! We’re not moving together. I’m looking for something to help guide us to learn to move together.
She went on to say, “I know you led us in that choreography or flocking practice, but I don’t really want to do all that. I just want a poem or prayer or story. If you have time before tonight’s meeting can you give me a call?”
It was 4:55pm.
As I sat with her request two things struck me:
First: We rely so heavily on our words. We want our words to change us.
I believe in the power of words. In fact there is an embodiment practice called a “declaration” that affirms we can be in practice with a “speech-act” where we actually practice embodying or becoming the thing we say.
What is required for this, however, is to start with the body. Not the words. To start at the level of the tissues and feel for what needs care, to feel for what we long for. The words are then an anchor and a catalyst to move us toward that longing.
Without the body our words will be like new wine in an old wineskin. We will not be ready to hold them. To practice them. To bring our body into alignment with what we are trying to boldly speak into being.
As I took in my friend’s request - the other thing that struck me was:
We want quick fixes so badly. We move with a chronic state of urgency.
It makes sense that we want to get away from what doesn’t feel good. Conflict, tension, confusion. But what is missed when we don’t slow down in our responses to these experiences?
How can we enter the tension and conflict with more curiosity and care?
I am not suggesting we don’t work to stop harm immediately in cases of violence. What I am suggesting (along with so many other teachers of mine) is that we often replicate what we are trying to heal from when we don’t encounter our discomfort with with care and curiosity. When we don’t slow down enough to interrogate what is the root of this rupture? What are the needs and feelings that are present here?
This requires growing our capacity to be in discomfort.
As I sat with what I might offer my friend in the next few minutes, my instinct was to ask her to have the room practice feeling for the one person they trust. Then feel for the next. Here we start with the body. How can we tell in our body who feels like a person we can lean on? Who feels safe? How does your body tell you that is true?
adrienne maree brown says that for a whole room to move powerfully together, everyone only needs to trust 1-2 other people in the room. In murmuration birds attune to the seven birds closest to them. Like hundreds of birds who move together and sharply change direction mid-flight in synchronicity, we too can flock together with ease and care when we practice feeling for trust.
This takes starting with the body.
Returning to our bodies,
relying less on words,
growing our capacity for discomfort
navigating conflict and rupture
all require resiliency.
So what do I mean by resiliency?
Those who study trauma teach us that resiliency is the pathways or practices that guide us back to feeing more connected, more open and a greater sense of safety. Resiliency creates space for a wider range of sensation and feeling in us, making more room for “aliveness” to be felt and experienced. Resiliency is what supports our healing from trauma & violence. It is how we find our way back from challenging or stressful experiences that are less extreme as well — like conflict in a group.
Common pathways for people are connecting with nature, spending time with animals, being in creative practice or being in spiritual practices that resonate for you.
When I was a pastor, I so often found myself escaping into resiliency practice. It was only accessible when I went fully away. A week on retreat, a day in the woods, a quiet day at home knitting and writing. These practices were restorative, and did re-establish safety for me to find myself again when feeling lost in leadership. They did re-establish connection for me to earth, myself, Spirit, and my values.
But they were not often accessible to me in the every day. I didn’t have a way to practice bringing that kind of resiliency into my daily life without having to retreat.
I also wasn’t able to connect my resiliency practice to the conflict or stress I was navigating inside of my leadership and community. I would either lose myself in the tension or close myself off to others when the pressure built up and lose connection in relationship.
I think that’s because I was operating from of a model of “self-care.” We are taught ad-nauseam as pastors to practice self-care. The trouble is — we are so often taught to practice that kind of care in a way that is rooted in the restoration or protection of the individual. We lose a sense of how our personal pain or wounds are linked up with the pain and oppression that is in the collective. I would go away to be restored and then last until the tank ran dry again. Can anyone relate?
This comic by Deanna Zandt hangs in a couple of my colleagues’ offices and helps to illustrate some of these complexities:
While the examples listed here are not absolute in each category, AND all of these are valid choices and tools to use in our lives — the distinction I want to make is: resiliency fundamentally links us up with the good of the whole. It connects our wellbeing, our safety, our vitality to the vibrancy and life force of the collective, including the more-than-human beings.
Retreat and time away is blissful. So is indulgence in chocolate and splurging on flowers…just saying . And — my resiliency practice as a pastor tended to stay in the self-soothing and self-care boxes of this comic. I struggled to integrate my resiliency with the pressures of every day life, and with the resiliency of the whole.
I want to caution against the “quick fix” urge that might be arising in you dear reader. I hear myself asking - so what is the practice? The magic sauce that I can cook up to settle all this discomfort? What can I do to take care of myself and the whole? How can I bounce back faster? Or bounce back without having to leave?
Resiliency is not an answer to harmful or violent conditions, or to conflict. It is, however, what we inherently do as humans to restore balance in our nervous systems and re-establish safety. And we can purposefully cultivate more of it to be able to navigate challenging systems and violent times… while we simultaneously work to change the conditions that cause such harm in the first place.
It supports us to face what is difficult with more courage, purpose and clarity.
So - I turn the question back to you: what can you be practicing that leaves you feeling more connected, safe and open in your every day life? How do you reestablish belonging in the wake of rupture? How are you feeling for your own voice, your mistakes, your power inside of the stress and conflict we experience in community? And how are you feeling for others voices, mistakes and power in that same conflict?
Resiliency practice supports our capacity to feel for ourselves and for each other even when things get gritty.
Resiliency supports us to feel for belonging and dignity inside of the beautiful mess of being in community.
Resiliency returns us to the possibility of practicing interdependence.
Resiliency grows our capacity to be in the heavy work of navigating rupture in ways that don’t gloss over the tension OR cancel each other out.
As a pastor I knew I needed to invite people into their bodies more, mostly because I had learned that it was a vital component to my own resiliency. But I struggled to know how to do it. Somatic practice has been such and potent learning ground for me to be in these inquiries and cultivate more resiliency in myself to navigate the collective pressures of the time we live in.
I am curious these days about how pastors are doing this. I want to hear more! I hope if you’re in ministry leadership you’ll consider joining me for this two-hour workshop coming up to explore these questions and practices.
