I’m sitting in Starbucks attempting to update my blog. How can I possibly think about adding to the Making Excuses series while the world continually teeters on the brink of collapse? I take a sip of coffee and try again.
Nope, can’t do it.
Writing helps me make sense of things. So on my third effort, I write about galvanizing a heartfelt, proper response to a disaster halfway across the world, without simultaneously devaluing my own modest efforts and personal concerns.
Realism Faces Forward
One of the harsh truths of nature is that no matter what the calamity, life still goes on. Despite Northern Japan’s deep yogurt, the world economy, turmoil in the Mideast, we still have businesses to run, families to nurture, and daily obligations to meet.
When disaster strikes, fatalists say we dodged a bullet. Separatists say we’re special. Realists say, it is what is.
I’m a realist. Whether it sucks or doesn’t suck, it’s life. By being objective, I avoid languishing in giddy relief or dropping headlong into despair. Unfortunately, realism also has a serious dark side; it turns cold without the influence of compassion and connection.
Misfortune Isn’t Contagious
We can become superstitious; getting close to misfortune, even thinking about it can lead to fatal infection. The smart money is on staying separate and disconnected.
Life may seem easier if you separate your heart from painful reality. Indeed, disconnection isn’t all bad. It helps you stay centered when performing under pressure. It helps you survive. But when disconnect goes on auto-pilot, it darkens reality and closes your mind. Disconnection empowers exclusivity, alienates support, and is the antithesis of communication.
So how to stay connected without becoming overwhelmed?
Remain connected without obsession. Viewing tsunami or 9/11 videos help process and understand the reality of a disaster. But it can also devolve into a morbid fascination similar to rubbernecking a car accident. It’s desensitizing. Awareness: good. Desensitization: bad.
I use two simple practices to help me avoid becoming desensitized:
a) Lighting a candle. I light one of those tall glass candles from the grocery store. The candle helps me acknowledge our human frailty, remember the issue in my heart, and it keeps aware of my blessings at home. It keeps things in perspective.
b) Reading news online twice daily. I don’t want to hide from the truth but neither do I want to obsess over details. Obsessive news gathering doesn’t enhance my awareness and it seems to feed a darker part of my psyche. A good read twice a day is plenty.
Remaining connected also takes advantage of experimental bias. This is the tendency to see what we expect. Researchers struggle to overcome this bias because it subconsciously skews test results. In my case, however, when I’m informed and connected I’m keeping the radar on. If something comes up where I can actually be of assistance, my bias will help me see it and hopefully participate.
Big deal, you say. It doesn’t help Japan or 9/11 or anything. It’s not useful in the big picture.
On this point I defer to Stephen Covey who, in Seven Habits for Highly Effective People, developed a simple, elegant way to reframe the concept of usefulness.
Reframe without Minimizing
One person’s breakup is another’s lost livelihood. One person’s illness is another’s natural disaster. Pain is pain. Yet no matter the situation, we can always take positive action within our Circles of Influence.
From 7 Habits of Highly Effective People
Covey starts with the larger Circle of Concern. It includes everything in life we’re worried about: world finances, terrorism, war, natural disaster, global climate change, bird flu, whatever. It’s a circle of reaction. We flail with anxiety, contract in denial, or turn tail and run.
The Circle of Influence is a subset of the Circle of Concern. Smaller in scope, the Circle of Influence encompasses our work, family, the food we eat, the way we communicate and drive our cars, our attitudes, and our behavior.
Circles of Influence grow when they are tended, similar to blogs. This is where we have the power to effect change and make a difference. Indeed, it’s the only place we can.
In Lao Tzu’s I-Ching, this concept is indirectly expressed as “the taming power of the small.” One can make a bigger difference by taking smaller steps, working diligently within smaller circles. Whether I’m teaching classes, talking to my kids, lighting a candle, or checking the news, I’m active within my Circle of Influence. As the circle expands, I’ll still be active. It may not be much, but it’s all I’ve got.
Back at Starbucks, I finish my third refill of coffee and close up shop. I didn’t write about excuses today; tomorrow I surely will. Regardless of world crisis, productivity is still my niche and passion, my personal Circle of Influence. My blog, my trainings, my writing, it’s what I do. It’s my circle of influence.
I also refreshed the earthquake kit.
What are your thoughts about handling disaster? What small things are you doing? I look forward to your input and ideas.
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4 Responses to “Writing My Blog While The World Suffers”
on September 12th, 2011 at 10:00 am #
[...] well meaning chickadee. Then I remembered something Stephen Covey wrote and I managed to craft an approach to catastrophe that involves more than simply sticking my feet in the air. (republished from March [...]
We updated the earthquake kit too! And gave money to the Red Cross, which I did through work rather than church because my rocking employer MATCHED our contributions.
I do wish we were finished with the “what to grab” stockpile. When you’ve got to go, you usually have seconds to get out. It’s a sobering thought.
Giving money works. It’s a great option, especially when the issue is so far from home.
Living the Pacific nw where the big one is destined at some point, preparation without paranoia is key. I have a briefcase with my special stash next to the office door. Everyone in the family knows that in fire or any other emergency, to grab the briefcase as they run out of the house. I havent needed to use it but I also havent updated it for at least 10 years. Probably should add and subtract a few things.
Thanks for writing, Jenny. Love your blog, btw.
on March 16th, 2011 at 10:41 am #
[...] Yesterday at the coffee shop, I was feeling like that silly, well meaning chickadee. Then I remembered something Stephen Covey wrote and I managed to craft an approach to Japan’s catastrophe that involves more than simply sticking my feet in the air. [...]