It’s been a while, and it’s been a time. TLDR: ‘24 Q4 kicked my ass. Like, wow. But it’s a new year, and a new inflection point, and I’m back with a renewed focus and cadence to the work on this Substack. Thank you for your grace.
wanna get right to the exercise? all good! download/open below. <3
This moment is acute. These past two weeks were devastating in the city I live in, Los Angeles, as hundreds of thousands of people were displaced, tens of thousands lost their homes, and millions of us are uncertain of what is to come; the continued looming threat of fire and wind in a bone-dry winter, the mysterious toxicity of the air we all breathe. Yes, the mutual aid efforts that blossomed from the ashes were largely miraculous (and a reminder we can’t depend on the government for jack). But the city continues to be heavy, both deeply wounded & grieving all that was lost and existentially fraught with what’s to come.
Now it’s this week, as a not-so-new administration assumes federal executive power, its bully pulpit fixed on demonizing undocumented immigrants, denying asylum seekers, and threatening wide-sweeping deportations — plus a maniacal obsession with policing and endangering the bodies of trans and non-binary people with the asinine mandate of “two genders” — all while ushering in goofy-ass, conspiring Silicon Valley “disruptors” slash foot soldiers through the front door.
And within the maelstrom, a sprig of tenuous hope, with a far-too-long-awaited ceasefire in Gaza; photographs of tearful embraces and reunions and elation, amidst panoramic portraits of horrific levels of mass destruction. But even after the ceasefire was first announced, American-made, American-sold and American-bought bombs killed more people, and even if it all continues to proceed without more immediate death as we dearly hope for, what is a ceasefire within apartheid?
A genocidal violence dialed back to a structural, righteous colonial violence. The belligerence, cruelty and impunity of U.S. empire echoing across the globe. Same same.
It’s a lot a lot. Enormous. And we are inundated, and we try our best to parse through what is real-real and what is fabricated, exaggerated, distorted, fear-mongering, AI. Leaping between geographies and communities with our fingers and our screens, thousands of shades of alarm, our empathetic reflexes work on overdrive; how can we possibly process it all?
We, in fact, are unable to. It’s too big to grasp: the chattering din of what is known, the gaping vortex of what is not, where our individual human place is in all of it. An eclipse of data and despair.
It’s no wonder that oftentimes we short-circuit. We numb out. We can’t even.
In my personal moments of panic over that which cannot be controlled (and there are many), I often return to a passage from The Next American Revolution by Grace Lee Boggs (co-written with Scott Kurashige). She quotes the words and work of Margaret Wheatley, who debunks the “Newtonian perspective” that change happens only through the accumulation of volume, mass and force, and that seemingly “small change” isn’t impactful in the grand scheme of things.
She quotes Wheatley:
A quantum view explains the success of small efforts quite differently. Acting locally allows us to be inside the movement and flow of the system, participating in all those complex events occurring simultaneously. We are more likely to be sensitive to the dynamics of this system, and thus more effective.
However, changes in small places also affect the global system, not through incrementalism, but because every small system participates in an unbroken wholeness. Activities in one part of the whole create effects that appear in distant places. Because of these unseen connections, there is potential value in working anywhere in the system. We never know how our small activities will affect others through the invisible fabric of our connectedness.
Boggs concludes:
“The real engine of change is never critical mass. Dramatic and systemic change always starts with critical connections.”
The world we need for all to live freely and well will never be forged by a two-party system or those who reign supreme. Instead of fixating on their constant maddening throes, I wish for us to recenter our attention and curiosity into the “small systems” we live within: our own bodies, our loved ones, our communities. Less being reigned by justified rage at the powers that be, and more space for wonder about we can transform within, among, and beyond ourselves.
Obsessing over the large distracts, distorts and discourages. It immobilizes, it isolates; it makes true change feel impossible.
The small is tangible, actionable, and ripples out. The small is knowable, shapeable, weavable. It is possibility made manifest.
adrienne maree brown (a student of Grace Lee Boggs) phrased this charge in her book Emergent Strategy as the principle: “small is good, small is all.”
I invite us to consider critical connections within ourselves, among our people, and beyond into our larger and knowable community. Below - to download/open on mobile, and written out - are a few questions to hold when it all feels too immense.
These questions are written to be revisited, an ongoing resource and space of inquiry and grounding. They can prompt solo journaling or writing then conversation with others. Choose your own adventure!
As we all collectively navigate what the near future holds for us, our loved ones, and our greater beloved community, may we find moments of reflection and possibility, and open doors towards safety, liberation and self-determination for all.
Within / Among / Beyond
Questions to Cultivate Critical Connections
Solo Approach: Read through each of the questions and choose one in each list that most resonates with you, or the one that most evokes discomfort. Spend 10 minutes free-writing in response to each of the three questions you chose.
Pair/Group Approach: Allow each person in the group to choose one question for the whole group to reflect upon. Consider at least five minutes of quiet self reflection and writing before opening up to dialogue.
Within:
Where do I want to deepen my knowledge of who I am, my ancestry, my lineage?
What gifts and skills do I possess that I can harness, invest in, wield?
What shadows do I wish to confront? And with that, how can I offer myself tenderness and compassion?
How can I better water the soil of my imagination? How can I better tend to my beliefs and faith in what is possible?
What within me feels most ignored? What domain of my life can I pour more love, attention and grace into?
Among:
Borrowing from the Bay Area Transformative Justice Collective, who is in my pod, and how can I map my pod?
Who am I accountable to, and who holds me accountable?
Who can I call on in moments I feel unsafe, and who will I show up for when their immediate safety is threatened?
How can I be more present and intentional in building trust among my loved ones and relationships?
What tools or systems can I use to keep in consistent communication with those I care about and who I know care about me? How can I make our connection most easeful?
What can I proactively, and realistically, offer to those who may feel overwhelmed or at a loss when answering the question ‘is there anything I can do’? What can I do for loved ones who are navigating hardship?
Beyond:
What communities are in most need of solidarity and support? Who is most harmed by or imperiled by the systems I latently benefit from?
What are the material, tangible ways I can contribute in moments of crisis for others?
Which aid networks can I better connect and deepen my relationships with?
How can I organize my folks to better draw attention and leverage their resources?
What does consistency look like in how I show up beyond myself?
in conclusion,
and also
and as always, let me know what came up for you.
with love, hollis
(last two memes h/t @muchachafanzine)
Wow!!!
Beautiful tools, important reflections. Thank you Hollis and sending love to you and LA ❤️🩹