Self-Compassion

Grilled salmon with fresh pesto. Yum! I had enough basil to make a double batch of pesto and freeze extra to eat with tomato sandwiches or whatever. My husband took out what he needed for the fish, while I spooned the rest into an ice cube try to freeze. He walked in as I was putting the tray in the freezer and said, “You even have extra lemon juice,” pointing to the freshly squeezed juice in the measuring cup on the counter. Only, it wasn’t extra. It was left out, like the salt I overlooked for a double batch of zucchini muffins a couple of weeks before. Both were edible, but the muffins were blander than normal and the pesto turned brown instead of keeping its gorgeous green.

And, I let it go. I didn’t even use the word stupid in my head. In the early days of shutdown I consulted a wise friend. “Self-compassion, self-compassion, self-compassion!” she said. “That’s the word for this time!” I’ve been practicing. And I’ve been listening to myself and the folks around me. We’ve got to learn to let ourselves off the hook of the blame, shame and guilt some of us just naturally pick up.

I’ve heard so many of us expressing bewilderment at not attaining any of the rich collection of expectations we carry for ourselves, that list of shoulds and oughts we measure ourselves by. A number have lamented having all that unexpected time at home and not being able to make themselves accomplish a long list of projects—as if shutdown were a chosen staycation and not a time of collective fear and uncertainty. Folks complain of not being able to focus and of being tired. For a couple of weeks I couldn’t remember if I’d fed the dog or not. I ran to the grocery store the other morning early for a few items and halfway through I realized I didn’t even have a mask with me. That one was harder to let go, but there were very few people there.

I’ve always liked Paul’s image of creation groaning in labor pains (Rom 8:22), but I confess to never having felt I grasped it well. This image of all creation in labor to give birth to something new now gives me a sense of where some of our collective energy is going. We are part of creation; therefore, we are not exempt from this great travail. If we are all in the process of giving birth to some new creation, it certainly explains why we are not behaving the way we expected ourselves to back in the land we now call Normal. Fear and anxiety take extra energy we cannot afford, and we must figure out how to manage those along with the disorientation of pandemic times, which takes more energy. Not to mention grief. Grief takes energy and has its own rhythm. When we’re grieving, we can accomplish many things one day and be laid low the next. Judging ourselves or one another simply makes the whole process take longer. Drop the expectations! Let’s let ourselves off those pernicious and, for some of us, well-practiced hooks!

Let’s listen to ourselves and one another and invite each other to be kinder and gentler and more patient with the tender beings we are becoming. Most of the things I hear us berating ourselves for are no more important than omitted lemon juice or salt. Spend energy telling ourselves and one another how well we’re doing in this wild cosmic birth process. Spend time giving thanks for all we are able to do well. Practice catching and shifting those voices. Compassion is greatly needed in this world today. The more we can give it to ourselves, the more we are able to pour out into the world around us. And who knows, maybe one compassionate response will change the world for someone we meet today.