We are settling into a new reality. I find myself going back and forth between embracing and resisting the reordering of our lives. We no longer travel to work, or to work out. We re-prioritize what we eat to ensure we save for the future. We shop in masks and gloves. We virtually hug or elbow bump even over Zoom. We smile at strangers and friends from six feet away. We howl. (more on that in a bit.)
There is so much that is hard about this situation. Fear and anxiety build on each other. We know so little. The rate of infection increases daily. We can see what’s not working. We get it. Too many of us are sick and our home, the earth faces unprecedented destabilization.
From our conversations, I know many of you join me in feeling vulnerable as what is familiar and known is ending. I often joke with clients that I became a change management consultant because I don’t like change, especially endings. I moved a lot as a kid and hold tightly to treasured mementos: an eagle feather from my aunt May, tatting from my grandmother Fern, and a hand painted green glass pitcher from my great grandmother Hattie.
Endings ask a lot of our hearts and minds. Whether we are ready to change or not, endings wake us up. We usually react to our limited knowledge and ability to control the change by jumping into blame, anxiety, avoiding, freezing, resentment, or withdrawal, which give us a strange sort of certainty. But, in reaction we get stuck in the past. Using this experience as a learning lab, we can see where we meet our insecurities or instabilities and creatively respond in new ways.
This time feels like the world as we’ve known it is changing. How are you coping? What are you seeing end?
Consider conscious endings a practice: ask what wants to end, loosen your grip on the way its been, complete what needs to be completed, find patience in the disorientation, and make way for change. We know that the seeds we plant during this tumultuous passage between what was and what will be, establish our future. We can use this time to think differently, create new ways to live.
We have the ability to change. The Coronavirus has woken us up to recognize our responsibility to change what is not sustainable. This will take radical actions, yet who better than us?
How can we show up? With humility. I believe it’s time to set our denial aside. What if we started at home by taking responsibility for our environmental impact? We can assess: what clothing, groceries, cars, textiles, cleaning products do we buy without questioning the supply chain? We can pivot buying habits to support companies like Patagonia, Eileen Fisher, and Seventh Generation who are driving solutions to the critical environmental threats facing the world today. In this time of crisis, we can consciously choose to end what no longer serves us or our lives.
We can also strengthen the positive new beginnings, even as we are in the tumult of change. When we stop watching the news for a few minutes, we can amplify what IS steady, effective, innovative, and remarkable. Companies pivot production lines to produce masks. We think to ask, is there a good reason to do this in person?
We can put our attention toward all that is caring and fun. In silent city streets, apartment rooftops host socially distant games. Neighbors deliver groceries. We send cards or emails to friends to say we care.
In our neighborhood, we howl. Our entire town seems to be in on it and it’s spreading to other cities.
It started with one email to the fifty or so homes in our neighborhood. An invitation to howl. “We’re in” came the replies.
The first evening my husband Rick and I and our big fluffy dog Stanley walked out to the street, wondering if a few howls might echo our own. Instead, the dark sky filled with howls from all sides and we let loose. Dogs, coyotes and wild turkeys joined in. After days of social distancing, letting our voices out felt good, liberating.
Over the days, more joined in until we now hear howling below us, above us, and down the canyons on each side. Our home is on the middle ridge of Mt. Tamalpais. Oaks, manzanita, bay, and redwoods block views from house to house. Streetlights are rare. But, at 8pm, in the darkness, we can hear young and old voices howl, yell, whoop, and holler.
We laugh out loud with the release. Dogs wonder what took the humans so long to realize how cathartic it is.
One night a song ended the howl. Last night “Over the Rainbow” trickled through the trees. Then an operatic voice resonant and strong. Joy filled our hearts. The ancient trees took a breath.
Slowing down we are doing ourselves and the earth a huge favor. The evocative haiku by Mizuta Masahide invites us to consider that within every ending there is a new beginning.
“My barn having burned to the ground I can now see the moon.”
Awareness opens us to participate in an emerging future. And, there is something bigger emerging. The birth of the future we create for ourselves, our neighbors, our planet depends on our choices today – as individuals, and as the collective that we are. In this moment of enhanced clarity, we see how easily the actions of one affect many.
In over 30 years of partnering with individuals and systems in designing and managing change I encourage everyone to mark the endings, welcome the chaos of the transition, and carefully craft their new beginnings. By consciously engaging in the change we can use this in-between transition zone to adapt to the changing circumstances, and help others do the same.
Otto Scharmer, a Senior Lecturer in the MIT Management Sloan School and co-founder of the Presencing Institute, framed a small group discussion in last week’s Global Activation of Intention and Action (GAIA) call. Around the globe, 10,000 people participated – in English, Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, and German – by journaling and sharing our responses to these three questions. I encourage you to do the same; my own answers surprised me.
What are you called to let go of?
What are you noticing about your inner state and response?
What is beginning to emerge now?
If we are wise, this time will teach us something essential. In the midst of the tumult of change, we can find our breath, settle our attention on the steady stream of our being that underlies our reactions, and choose to change for the sake of the future. Under the new moon, maybe we’ll even let loose with a howl.
Additional Resource
Mill Valley Howl on the news.