On Grief and Gratitude

How can we bring these two truths together at once?

Dear Reader, Hello.

This morning, I woke up early and watered the garden. It was 58 degrees here—chilly for the middle of summer. I picked greens for my smoothie, did yoga, and then sat in the backyard reading for an hour—watching the birds and reading and watching the birds and reading. A hummingbird darted between evening primroses. A woodpecker hammered the telephone pole. Black capped chickadees called to each other in the Ash tree above me. A robin sat on the fence and preened. All of these bird songs entered the book I was reading (Vantage, by Taneum Bambrick), so I read slow and savored each word.

Some days are so good, I forget about what’s happening beyond my backyard. I don’t want to let myself forget, so I came inside afterward and looked at BBC world news. I read about, of course, the explosion in Beirut—100 dead, over 100 missing, 1000’s displaced. Global coronavirus deaths pass 700,000. 60 people arrested in anti-corruption protests in Nigeria. 15 people dead and 1500 more displaced in floods and landslides in South Korea. A Mexican journalist was shot and killed—the 4th journalist killed in Mexico this year. 28% increase recorded in Amazon region fires. Sweden’s economy hit less hard by virus.

How can my idyllic morning exist in the same world where all of this is happening? How can I hold both gratitude for what I have and grief for what is lost every day? Where does whiteness fit in? All over the world, white people are faring better.

And I don’t think I should torture myself or stay inside and avoid the birds and garden and books and make myself suffer to try to equal their suffering. The point is not for me to suffer more, but for others to suffer less. It is important to celebrate every small joy that we can. These small joys can help us move past capitalist and material measures of joy. We need to love the plants and birds and art.

It is just so hard to hold both gratitude and grief at once sometimes. My heart swelled with happiness. I did not think about destruction, not even a little, even though there is definitely some destruction in the book I was reading. I appreciated the beauty and craft of the work instead. I was happy that such a well written book exists. I was grateful for the book, the moment, and didn’t dwell in the destruction between the pages.

Maybe we need this ability to see the art in destruction. I can’t say. I don’t think that I, as a white person, can ever really understand what we need. I mean we as a world, as a collective whole. I haven’t been doing the work to understand racism and white supremacy for nearly long enough to understand how fully they are tied into every system of power. The best solutions for what we need are coming from Black, Indigenous, and people of color who are trans and/or non-binary, who have been doing this work for their entire lives. The most marginalized have the most wisdom for how to end their own oppression, and ending their oppression will free us all.

I can’t give advice or claim to know much at all, except that holding two truths at once will always be necessary, and paying attention to what’s happening in the world is just as important as paying attention to our own backyards. I don’t think white people are often taught to do this… we are taught light vs. dark, good vs. evil—one or the other—a binary of one truth or the other, not both.

Prompt: What are two truths that you see as opposed, as impossible to coexist? How did you learn that they could not coexist? How does that learning have to do with whiteness? How can you bring those two truths together at once?

Action: Look for ways to support people suffering in other countries. Donate to relief efforts in Lebanon, or in other places that need relief. Also, find gratitude somewhere in your day and appreciate something small and beautiful.

Thank you for being here with me today. I am also grateful for you, for this practice.

Until tomorrow,

Gwen