Three Questions For When You Don’t Know What To Do

"Do what you do best. To the best of your ability. For the good of others." ~ Charles Handy

What do you do when you don’t know what to do?

In talking to people recently, the most common thing I hear is, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know where to start.”

For many, this concern is about the suffering that is happening all around us: from increased hatred and harm toward marginalized folks, to the repercussions of climate change, to the degradation of democracy. There is so much that we care about and the sheer magnitude can leave us paralyzed.

And this same “don’t know what to do” feeling can be personal, closer to home. Maybe children are launching. Maybe marriages and jobs are ending. Maybe a diagnosis has us reevaluating our health. Maybe a loss has left us questioning our priorities.

In heavy, confusing times, Glennon Doyle suggests to “just do the next right thing, one thing at a time.” But sometimes, the needs are so pressing and so enormous that we struggle to know what the next right thing even is.

Keep Going Together, a grassroots group supporting non-profit organizations working to reduce harm and suffering in Charlottesville, had its first meeting last week. We began our approach to the staggering need and our passion to be of service with three questions that were inspired, in part, by Charles Handy’s quote above.

Three Questions For When You Don’t Know What To Do:

1. What is good? What is working? What is beautiful?

2. What are you passionate about? What issues or people do you feel compelled to stand up for and take action on?

3. What is your superpower? What makes you come alive? What do you do with joy?

Any time things feel wildly messy and you don’t know what to do, these three questions are a good place to start, and here’s why:

Why These Three Questions When You Don’t Know What To Do?

1. What is good? What is working? What is beautiful?

If things are hard and stuck, it can be easy to mire ourselves even further in every.single.thing. that is wrong and broken and cruel in the world. Because there is so much that is a mess. And. AND there is so much that is good (even people!), working (warm water out of the tap!), and beautiful (the sky! squirrels! hot coffee!).

When you feel paralyzed, the best place to start is not on what needs fixing but what is already whole and amazing. Moving forward in dark times requires us to hold both simultaneously: the beautiful and the horrible, the harmful and the healing, the broken and the fully functioning. This first question helps us open our eyes and take in all of it. It helps us be with the Both/And of living in the world.

2. What are you passionate about? What issues or people do you feel compelled to stand up for and take action on?

There is so much to do in our personal lives and in the larger world. We can’t work on all of it at once. The best place to start is where your passion is. What lights you up? What sets a fire in you? It might be your health or supporting someone in your life or it might be the LBGTQ kids at the local high school or the polluted river that runs through your town or your underfunded city library. Whatever it is, personal or public, start there.

This second question helps us identify your values and what specifically matters to you most right now. And if *everything* fires you up, remember the words of Ursula Wolfe-Rocca:

“It can be overwhelming to witness / experience / take in all the injustices of the moment; the good news is that they’re all connected. So if your little corner of work involves pulling at one of the threads, you’re helping to unravel the whole damn cloth.”

3. What is your SUPERPOWER? What makes you come alive? What do you do with joy?

The second most common thing I hear from folks these days is that they don’t know what their superpower is and don’t know how they can contribute. Maybe “superpower” is too strong a term for some, so let me put it this way, what is the thing that you do easily but when others remark upon its wonder, you say, “Oh that? That’s nothing.”

When you don’t know what to do, trust those things that you do with energy and joy. Twentieth-century philosopher and theologian Howard Thurman said,

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

When you don’t know what to do, start with your own aliveness. Start with what you would do if the world wasn’t burning down. Start with what you love to do and do well ... and go from there.

It’s natural to feel stuck and uncertain about how to proceed in the face of daunting challenges and overwhelming problems. Whether those issues are in the private or public sphere, it makes sense that there are many times when we don’t know what to do.

These three questions can help to unlock our eyes and our energy. They can thaw our frozen parts and invite in some breath and life. Come back to these three questions over and over. The answers might shift over time; they likely will. It’s in the asking that the ice jam shifts and movement happens again.

Plus That: Embodied Intention, Part 3

Embodied Intention in 3 Parts! This is Part 3 of a 3-part series of prompts that invite you to connect to an intention for the new year in your body. You can find Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

The past couple of weeks, we’ve been exploring embodied intention. While resolutions are goal- and results-oriented, an embodied intention is sensation and process-centered.

In wellness culture, sometimes embodiment is connected only to the pleasurable, gauzy, sweet sensations. And while it is part of embodiment to actually feel the water on your skin in the shower and taste the grapefruit in your breakfast, embodiment is not only that. When I practice embodiment, I mean to inhabit all the sensations and feelings as much as I can.

Given this “all the feels” approach, in the first two weeks of this series, we connected to More That and Less This. More That is the sensation of YES; those things we want to continue. Less This is the sensation of No which shows us what we want to stop.

This week, we’re adding in: Plus That. Plus That may be a feeling or experience that you once had but have lost. Plus That may be something that you’ve heard about but not experienced yourself. Plus That may be represented by your One Word for the year or another intention that you’ve set.

Here’s a writing prompt to help you connect with what you want to remember or discover.

Plus That.

You remind me of something. Something that I used to feel myself
Something that I used to feel
Like a heartbeat racing
Like a new beginning
You remind me of something else
Something that I used to feel
Something like what I've been missing

~ Emily King, Remind Me

After getting clear on what you want more of and what you're ready to let go of, what then? What's missing? What do you want to add in?

It may be, like in Emily King's song, something you used to feel that you've been missing. Or it may be something you've heard about but haven't experienced (or don't remember experiencing).

Here's where a One Word or other intention-setting practice can help us connect to the feeling we want to fold into our days. The invitation is to consider what you're missing and you want to add in and then make a list of as many ways as you can imagine that you could connect to that feeling. There's just no telling what life will dish up, and if we think broadly about the feeling we're after, the more ways we'll be able to embody our intention.

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Feeling all the feels is an essential part of embodiment and living in a mindful, intuitive way. Glennon Doyle talks about her experience in embodiment in her recent interview on the Ten Percent Happier podcast – it was one of the best conversations about the topic I’ve heard.

Embodied intention is a choice to feel all of it: the Yes, the No and the Plus. Whether you use a One Word or come at it another way, embodying what we want to create and experience is a change to enrich not just the whole year but all the moments in it.

Gently Rewilding Our Whole Selves

This is Part 7* of the 7-Part Gentle Rewilding series!

We’ve been tamed, y’all. Modern life molds and changes our bodies, minds and spirits. Much of our modern domestication is just fine: I’m glad we use forks and don’t spit inside and don’t drink milk straight out of the carton (oh wait, I do that). But some of our taming is worth questioning and unwinding. This series is an exploration of ways of reconnecting to our human design with gentle rewilding.

* Find Part 1 – Gentle Rewilding & Feet here.

* Find Part 2 – Gentle Rewilding: Hands here.

* Find Part 3 – Gentle Rewilding: Spine here.

* Find Part 4 – Gentle Rewilding: Shoulders here.

* Find Part 5 – Gentle Rewilding: Hips here.

* Find Part 6 – Gentle Rewilding: Eyes here.

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“We weren’t born distrusting and fearing ourselves. That was part of our taming. We were taught to believe that who we are in our natural state is bad and dangerous. They convinced us to be afraid of ourselves. So we do not honor our own bodies, curiosity, hunger, judgment, experience, or ambition. Instead, we lock away our true selves. Women who are best at this disappearing act earn the highest praise: She is so selfless. Can you imagine? The epitome of womanhood is to lose one’s self completely. That is the end goal of every patriarchal culture. Because a very effective way to control women is to convince women to control themselves.”
― Glennon Doyle, Untamed

True story: a full-grown man paces the sidelines of a co-ed, recreational soccer game, yelling at full volume at the opposing team, the (volunteer) ref and his own team. A couple of his teammates give him the side eye, “Hey, dude. Chill out. You don’t have to yell at everybody. We’re here to have fun.”

The man turns on them and says, “I can’t help it. It’s who I am. It’s in my DNA.”

His teammates call bulls**t. “No way,” they say, “you have control of your words, your actions and how you treat people. Take responsibility.”

Yelling at friends and young referees at a co-rec soccer game might seem extreme but how often are we so attached to our emotions, our habitual responses, and our expectations of ourselves that it feels like we don’t have a choice.

Just as shoes constrain the function of our feet, our assumptions, expectations and beliefs constrain the function of our hearts and minds. Whether it is a woman who loses herself in selflessness or a man who alienates himself with toxic anger, either way we are not free. Our spirits are tamed by the aspects of ourselves and the world that we do not question. Gently rewilding our whole selves requires curiosity, openness and a beginner’s mind.

This kind of untaming may feel more elusive than opening our hips or mobilizing our spine. This kind of untaming might feel slippery, confusing or disorienting. But like waking up from a drugged sleep might feel wobbly at first, rewilding our whole selves is the path to uncovering ourselves from accumulated culturalization.

Gentle rewilding begins with questioning, with entertaining a beginner’s mind about the binaries and beliefs that we are taught (and in fact rewarded) not to wonder about and not to question.

This is a deep and tangled topic that we can by no means unpack completely here. I recommend Glennon Doyle’s book Untamed and these few toe holds to begin the process of gently rewilding our spirits:

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Beginner’s Mind

“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s there are few.” ~ Zen Master, Shunryo Suzuki

Beginner’s mind opens us to possibilities, to expansive ways of thinking and new ways of approaching things. In our human brains, this can be an uncomfortable place to be. Certainty is the human brain’s drug of choice and expert mind is how to get that drug. We either make ourselves experts or we turn to experts. The certainty of expert mind feels stable and sure in its narrowness while beginner’s mind feels loose and all over the place in its expansion. Beginner’s mind, no matter how old you are or how much you know, is the path to rewilding.

If you find yourself saying (or thinking) about yourself, others or the world: that’s just the way things are, some things never change or it’s in my DNA, pause. Ask yourself, why is that? What’s underneath that? Who benefits from that? What’s another way to think about it?

Which brings us to...

Binaries

Like certainty, our brains love binaries: black or white, right or wrong, good or bad, Ford or Chevy. As much as our brains want it to be, that is simply not the way the world or people work. Everything is nuanced, people are multi-faceted, situations have multiple perspectives.

When one of my beloveds came out as gender fluid, my eyes started to see the world differently. I started to see how strictly binary our culture looks at gender. You are a man, or you are a woman. Period. According to this culturalized bianary, what you wear, how you act, who and how you love, the roles you have, even where you pee have a narrow range of options.

But if we venture to see things beyond the binaries (and gender is, of course, only one of a zillion binaries), we might ask, Are you sure? Why is that? What’s underneath that? And who benefits? What’s another way to think about it?

Which brings us to...

Beliefs

As UN Planning Analyst, Mohamed Helmi Tourzri, wrote earlier this year,

Beliefs [unlike thoughts] are mental attitudes or convictions that we hold to be true, without necessarily relying on conscious cognitive processes.

That is, our beliefs may have grown over time, like a snowball rolling down a hill, picking up layers and bits as it goes along without really thinking a whole lot about how they grow or what they are made of. Beliefs can fly in under the radar.

If we want to rewild our hearts and minds, one rich place to begin is to ask what do I believe...and why? Am I sure about that belief? Where did it come from? Does it support me or someone/something else?

The tricky part, for me anyway, is that beliefs can feel like who we are to such an extent that we don’t even realize we hold them. Beliefs can feel like they are in our DNA. In that way, beliefs can be a reflexive habit that propel us sometimes without us realizing it.

If I believe that people are basically out for themselves, for example, I’m going to think, speak and act differently than if I believe that people are basically kind. I may think, speak and act based on this belief without recognizing that the belief fuels my behavior.

Rewilding our beliefs takes gentle prodding, digging, brushing away the layers of accumulated experiences and thinking to find the source of how you got there. This is often work that is more easily done with the help of a therapist or trained professional who can shed light on the beliefs that have slid under the radar. It’s work worth doing, though, to confirm that the beliefs that you’ve accumulated over a lifetime support who you want to be.

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The process of gentle rewilding, of our bodies, minds and hearts is a big and worthwhile endeavor. And like we can retrain our joints and connective tissue to move in new ways a little at a time, we can do the same in our hearts and minds. Notice when you don’t question an assumption. Notice if there are aspects of yourself or a relationship that you take for granted. Pay attention when you are confronted with a new perspective that pisses you off. These are all places where the curious beginner’s mind can chip away at the rigid binaries, unhelpful beliefs and the places you’ve been tamed.

“Here's to The Untamed:
May we know them.
May we raise them.
May we love them.
May we read them.
May we elect them.
May we be them.”
― Glennon Doyle, Untamed

When The Roosters Come Home To Roost

Spaciousness. When asked what I want more of in my life, this is it. I keep saying I want more spaciousness in my schedule, but this vague “more spaciousness” idea is like nailing Jello to a wall. It doesn’t get me what I’m after. To make more space, I need more clarity. In what feels like a brave move, I’m playing with not working on Sundays.

As a solopreneur, I work a lot. I’m committed to responsiveness and connection. And I can teeter into obsessiveness about staying on top of everything. When my desk starts to sprawl with papers, books and files and my email box is overflowing with unread messages, my control muscles turn on and I get itchy and tight.

It is painfully clear, though, that hustle culture is not my friend. The culture that treats our bodies like machines whose sole purpose is to productivity is rooted in patriarchy, capitalism, slavery and white supremacy. I don’t want to contribute to any of that mess – directly or indirectly. Using my one wild precious life only to work on my business and check off my To Do list isn’t in alignment with what I know matters most.

These days, on Sundays, I’ve been walking away from my computer and instead focusing on the relationships and activities that deeply nourish me.

Mondays, however, roll around no matter what I choose to do on Sunday. After spending time hiking and watching basketball and reading Tana French, I find myself dismayed on Monday morning.

My email is bursting and class preparation is looming and all the other details have piled up into a tangle at my desk. Turns out when you choose to step away from grind culture, grind culture keeps grinding. When I don’t work, not much gets done.

And here is the pivotal moment: what do we do when the consequences of an aligned, liberating choice inevitably land in our laps? What do we do when “the roosters come home to roost”?

In a recent episode of the We Can Do Hard Things podcast, Glennon Doyle shared an update on her healing from anorexia. Part of her process is that she gets on a scale every day but can see nothing. No numbers. Nothing. All the information goes to her therapist. At the outset, the two of them decided that the therapist would not share any of the data until Glennon gained a certain amount of weight. This arrangement gives Glennon a sense of control and safety so she can focus on her day-to-day process.

The day her therapist said, “We agreed that I would tell you when you gained this much weight and now you have” was the day that Glennon said, “The roosters have come home to roost.”

Like they do.

Whenever we choose to make different choices than our habit, than the social norm, any time we move beyond the constricting rules of a controlling patriarchal culture, there will be roosters. And they will come home to roost.

You don’t get an A. You don’t get the promotion. You gain the weight. Your relationship is uncomfortable. The house isn’t pristine. And your work doesn’t get done.

The question is, what do we do then?

Retreating and going back to old choices makes sense. It feels safer to do what we’ve been told and get back in line. No matter how you feel about it, moving into the world with the consequences all out there to see can feel deeply uncomfortable. I’ve done it many times: make a brave choice and then back away from it — mostly without realizing what I’m doing.

So, what do we do when the roosters come home to roost?

Do we go back to the comfortable familiarity of grind culture? Do we go back to working weekends? Do we go back to restricting and controlling food and exercise? Do we go back to letting the racist comments and the misogynist jokes pass? Do we go back to saying, “Boys will be boys” and letting sexual assault be just what happens?

It takes courage to live beyond the cultural constraints that are designed to keep us small and silent.

It takes another level of courage to stay with those choices when the roosters come home to roost.

Let the roosters do what they’re gonna do. Keep making the choices that make you – and everyone around you – free.

Trust & The Opposite of Love

If you truly trusted yourself, what would you do? ~ Tiffany Han

In the summer of 2020, I was burned out and sputtering. I led online classes most every day – something I’d started in March because we’d be on lockdown for — what? — maybe a few weeks? a month?

As the pandemic stretched on, I was at a loss about how to proceed. It was clear we all needed movement and connection, but I was stretched to the limit offering what I could. Months in, I was swamped and sinking and I didn’t know what to let go of.

In those days, weeks and months, I learned new technology and new music, I made a whole slew of offerings, and I felt somehow responsible for helping my community through a deeply difficult time. I walked around my neighborhood listening to playlists while my mind ran Eddie Murphy’s line from (the exceedingly silly) movie Bowfinger:

keepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogether

At some point that summer, I came across Tiffany Han’s podcast that focused on reimagining life outside the paradigm of hustle culture and burn out. I listened like it was a lifeline. She was gracious and responsive when I sent her distressed little Instagram DMs (Hi! I’m Susan. I love your podcast. Help me. I’m drowning.).

One sweltering afternoon as I walked and listened, Tiffany posed this question:

If you truly trusted yourself, what would you do?

I stopped walking. I think I said, “Whoa.” Or maybe I just swallowed hard. What would I do if I trusted myself?

I had no idea.

In that moment, I saw that instead of trusting, I was trying to control. I wanted to control everything: my body, my work, my relationships, lockdown, the well-being of my community. Everything.

When challenges (both big and small) arise, I get a little tight place in my solar plexus, this scrambly anxious swirl in my head. Things are not going to be ok; people are not going to be ok; I’m not going to be ok and I need to do something.

keepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogether

keepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogether (photo: Rebecca George Photography)

Author and podcaster Glennon Doyle observes:

“I am beginning to unlearn what I used to believe about control and love. Now I think that maybe control is not love. I think that control might actually be the opposite of love, because control leaves no room for trust—and maybe love without trust is not love at all. ...Maybe if love is not a little scary and out of our control, then it is not love at all.”

Control leaves no room for trust. No room for trusting other people, circumstances, the world...myself.

Recently, I contemplated Tiffany’s question: If I truly trusted myself, what would I do? I wrote in my journal (among other things), “leave more space for possibility and the unexpected.”

That morning, when I arrived for class, my playlist was gone from my device. The only thing I had was a playlist I was experimenting with. I took a deep breath and thought, “Trust yourself, sweetheart.”

Was it the best class I ever led? No. It was a little scary and out of my control and it was full of trust and love.