It's too hot
What if we worked for a world in which respite, pause, cooling, and caring for ourselves and one another took precedence?
Dearly Beloveds,
I posted a reel this week on Instagram with the words: Friendly reminder to stay hydrated and to not make any major decisions about your life or anyone else’s when it’s this hot. Let’s pause everything till it’s sub 60, okay?
People thought it was funny. And? I wasn’t joking. I was and am serious about this.
It’s too hot to be messing with our own and others’ lives.
Why in the world we thought it was a good idea to hold a presidential “debate” (the use of “debate” is questionable given the joke that it was) in the middle of summer, I’ll never know.
And why, oh why the Supreme Court renders major decisions that grossly affect so many people’s lives when the majority of the United States is warm and warming is beyond me. (This is not to say their decisions would be better when it’s cooler outside, but I do wonder…and hope.)
I’ve made some pretty terrible decisions when hot and agitated, sweat trickling down my back, desperate for a cool breeze.
***
During the summer of 2005, while living in a community house in Washington, D.C. with my fellow Sojourners comrades, we were so hot and annoyed one afternoon, we found ourselves throwing pencils at each other over a grocery list.
Of course, we laugh about the pencil-throwing incident today–the childishness, the short fuses, the very human and normal reactions to living together with no air conditioning and the irritating task of having to make a grocery list nine people could agree upon.
Looking back, though, I wonder what it would’ve been like had we had the forethought to say, “Let’s make the grocery list later, once the sun goes down or once we’ve all had some cold water.”
Physiologically, when our body begins to heat, our heart pumps faster to circulate more blood to the skin’s surface so we can perspire, which is our body’s way of cooling itself. However, when we begin to overheat, other symptoms can show up like nausea, fever, and muscle cramps.
Our bodies have a way of trying to save us, you know? If only we’d listen, pay attention, refuse to ignore the racing heart, the pooling sweat, the pulsating headache, might we throw fewer proverbial pencils?
***
An organization that is near and dear to my heart and with which I’m offering some communications consulting services right now takes respite every July. They turn off their email, close their doors, and respond only to urgent messages. And they encourage their community to do the same.
While so much of my work as a mother, advocate, daughter, spouse, friend, spiritual leader, and writer feels like it can never turn off, I wonder what it would be like to pause, especially when it’s hot, and say, “I’ll make that decision in late September” or “I’ll respond once I’ve had some water and been under a fan for an hour.”
What would it look like if all of us were able to pause, drink some cold water, and respond to major life decisions when regulated and cool?
Look, I’m as fiery as any Aries can get. My astrological symbol is that of a ram hurtling headfirst toward the sun. I run hot. I’m passionate. I feel things deeply and with a burning, hot flame that often wants to burn it all down. And, as a woman, my anger often gets defined as irrational or unnecessary when angry men get defined as strong.
In grad school, a professor wrote in the margins of a paper I submitted on society’s care for men’s names more than women’s, “You sound too angry.”
“Of course I’m angry!” I screamed at the paper. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I threw the paper across the room (similar to the flying pencil incident) and let it sit and simmer for several hours before picking it up from the corner and considering a rewrite.
Later, instead of removing the anger from the paper, I named it.
“I’m angry that my husband’s name is valued more than my own,” I wrote.
I was only able to return to the power of naming after cooling, just a little.
***
The Supreme Court paved the way for cities to enforce bans on homeless people sleeping outside even when shelter space is lacking in a 6-3 decision this week. In the middle of summer, when all states in the US are seeing hotter than normal temperatures due to global warming, instead of helping unhoused people, the highest court in our land made it more difficult for them to live.
The absurdity and cruelty of their decision points to how far removed they are from real people’s lives. From the burning heat. From the lack of shelter. From the deficit of cold, running water. From the ripe smells of sweaty bodies baking in the summer sun.
Sure, they pretend to be calm, cool, and collected, interpreting the law as their social location allows them to interpret it. And, I can’t help but wonder how it might affect their decision if they spent a day or two on the streets with real people in need.
My point, dear ones, is this: We get to be hot and fiery and passionate and angry and worked up and sweaty and all the things that being a real live human being in this world involves. And? What if we worked for a world in which respite, pause, cooling, and caring for ourselves and one another took precedence? What if, instead of hoarding our water, we shared it? What if, instead of starting wars we ended them? What if, instead of criminalizing people, we sheltered them?
It’s too hot to be messing with our own or others’ lives. Take a beat. Drink water. Share a bottle of water (or one hundred) with your local homeless shelter. Turn off the TV.
Get angry about injustice, take a drink of cold water, let your anger refine you, and, then, let it lead you to love.
With love,
Claire
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JOIN ME FOR A “WRITING AS SPIRITUAL PRACTICE” CLASS THIS AUGUST!
I’ll be joining The Porch’s teaching roster this August for a three-week, in-person class on “Writing as Spiritual Practice” here in Nashville. The Porch inspires, educates and connects writers and readers of all ages and stages through classes and literary events, and I’m thrilled to get to facilitate this class for all those who long to write, not so much to produce, but to connect with Spirit. I’d love to see you and yours there!
Blessed Are the Women is what they call an evergreen book. She’s a faithful companion in all seasons—for personal and communal spiritual practice, sermon and worship prep, contemporary connection, feminist midrash, reclaiming women’s stories, and more. As we head into “ordinary time” in the Christian calendar year, as spring comes to and end and summer begins, let Blessed Are the Women accompany you and yours in the day to day grace and grind of it all. She and the women are here.
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