Three questions to ask to live more courageously

Humanity is being told by a small group of always-angry wealthy men that we have to give up a lot this year. That we must give up even more now, including people and work and rights and institutions and protections and land and trees we all love, both together and separately, so that they can grow even richer. Many of the people I read, follow, trust, and love are rightly focusing on these men, who I call The Tellers. My friends focus on the last remaining men on earth still allowed to tell, force, steal, and destroy– without connection, without asking, without consent, without empathy, without love or respect, without expertise, without understanding of context and nuance or history or joy or even basic awareness of the countless beings that utterly surround us and support us, without caring about health and safety, and apparently without much grief and remorse for the hurt they cause. And definitely without offering much, if anything, that the rest of us really value in return.

I needed a shorthand for those of us who love life on earth and who love our fellow earthlings, and also for the men who now openly hate Earth's 1 trillion different species, including– most strangely– their own. So I asked the forest here for advice. The trees are much less inclined to categorize living beings, but they suggested I call all living beings who love life The Askers and the remaining small group of always-angry, greedy humans, The Tellers. For now. If it's good enough for the forest, then it's more than good enough for me. I'm not as old and wise as the forest here. And unlike my friends, I tend to grow quickly bored talking about The Tellers at all. So, here are a few things I've learned from The Askers. From those who love life enough to keep unlearning, changing, learning, and growing...

Questions for living more courageously

Bravery feels needed by almost everyone right now. So here are three questions that I've noticed those who love life tend to ask themselves that help them live more courageously.

#1 - Can I be weirder, without apology?

Can you be even more of your real self now? Your whole self. The unique and different self that was unacceptable to someone, somewhere, in the past. Can you be that you, again, here and now? Be the person who says what they're really feeling and who hears and shares and even wears what they deeply love?

Can you be the you who, for example, talks to trees, hears what animals and birds say, loves obscure or strange books and magazines and films and other artifacts of humanity's ongoing love of life on earth? Can you be the you who finds bliss learning both practical and wildly impractical skills and remarkably useful someday, maybe, or not, hobbies? The one who draws and sings and dances and makes up stories to share. The one who loves what was left for you by loving ancestors and the you who thinks about who and what you'll leave for those who come after you– faces you already love but will never see? Can you be the you who keeps making different choices than other people are making when what others are doing feels off or wrong? The you who does things differently than stale cultural programming demands of us. The you who deeply trusted their own intuition and gut before being taught that your intuition and guts shouldn't be trusted?

Unlearn! Change! Be weirder. Without apology now. If your family or country sucks at asking for help, ask for help daily. If your family let go of all their old traditions, research and learn and start one back up again or spend time with families and cultures/traditions who never let go. If your family or friends or town or state or country refuses to do or think anything beyond what they've always done and thought in the past, then refuse to do or think anything the same at all anymore. If you've never been to a rally or protest or march on behalf of something you love, attend the next one. Watch– amazed– as you witness friends and strangers being weirder and braver than you'd imagined before. Feel their invitation to be weirder. Wilder. More honest and real. Witness them draw other wonderful and weird folks toward you like the largest, weirdest, wildest joy magnet in town.

This same question can be asked of large groups, organizations, systems, and global movements. And, this question also has to start from within people and other beings themselves and from within small groups of earthlings– increased weirdness cannot be mandated. To trust that we can do this, we have to do it. Us. You and me. Instead of asking others to do this or trying to imagine how we could mandate weirdness, simply be weirder yourself, and be weirder as small groups, without apology. Then take the time to notice your freedom spreading.

If The Tellers, foolish men, trying to run the whole world now unleash pain and chaos on the rest of life but demand silence, order, uniformity, unquestioning fealty, or death in return, be the opposite of that. Be weird. Weirdly weird. Unruly. Messy. Strange. Different. Wild. The weirder a community is visibly, together, the stronger the community truly is. Revel in your weirdness together. Celebrate nonconformity, visibly and publicly, whenever possible. A sure sign that you're among Askers, not Tellers, is that everyone present is different, quirky, known, seen, and respected for the unique perspectives they bring. The next time you're in the forest or a park or other land where trees surround you, close your eyes. Listen. How do you feel in the presence of these beings that are remarkably different from you? That is how you'll feel in the presence of The Askers.

#2 - Will I create or demand the time to be more fun, to have more fun, without apology?

A crocodile walks into a bar and the bartender says, "Why the long face?"

That, right there, is the only joke I can think of off the top of my head. It's a joke I loved when I was, maybe, 10, back whenever "A guy walks into a bar..." jokes were all the rage. My Dad was an expert teller of jokes when I was a kid. Long jokes, short jokes, jokes he would giggle about or laugh out loud at himself long before he reached the punchline. He spread laughter around wherever he moved in the world back then, and he still does. We bought him joke books as birthday gifts when we were kids. At 84, he still carries cartoons and jokes from the funny page-a-day cartoon calendars on his desk (that we still get him for his birthday and Christmas) down to lunch to share with friends and neighbors.

It feels almost unimaginable to me at the moment that I can't think of a single other joke than one I loved 40 years ago. That's got to change! I've got to change! When faced with a cruel government that demands small mindedness, hard heartedness, and silence about injustice of us all, we will become and have more fun. Exponentially more fun. Right now feels like the perfect time to be even more fun and to make time to woo back our own funny, hilarious, more free selves. Our whole selves are fun and funny and love to laugh. We all are when held by loving friends or family or community, when we feel truly safe to be fun-loving, funny ourselves.

Let's be the people who don't judge other people for having fun. Let's join the beings who receive or demand ample time for fun for everyone. Silly fun. Outdoor fun. Face-to-face fun. Table-top game fun. Online fun. Cross-generational fun. Cross-cultural fun. Cross-imaginary border fun. Cross-species fun. Fun at rallies and protests. Fun at town hall meetings and school board meetings. Fun in jail, if it comes to that under this regime.

This same question can be asked of large groups, organizations, systems, and global movements, but it feels like this has to start from within people and other beings, and from within small groups of us. Fun cannot be mandated, can it? Maybe by dogs and cats and children and whales and dolphins, but most human adults (at least in my culture) would struggle with this. Instead of mandating anything at all, simply make more time for fun and invite more fun in for yourself, and as small groups, without apology, whenever and wherever you can. If you have ample time for fun, reach out to offer support to someone who could use a bit more time for fun. Then, notice what happens. Talk about what happens. When you're having fun together, especially publicly, it's easy to notice and watch fun spread.

If The Tellers, those trying to cruelly run the whole world, unleash chaos and pain on the rest of us and demand silence, order, uniformity, unquestioning fealty, or death in return, that's utter nonsense. Imagine believing a small group of short-sighted men could control 1 trillion species! Nonsense! Embrace nonsense now, silly ones! Claim nonsense for yourselves and those you love. Be fun. Have fun. Share a laugh. Laugh until you pee your pants. Tell a joke. Make no sense at all for a while. Bask in silliness. In every moment, every place, and every way that you can.

#3 - Do I notice and carry wonder with me everywhere I go, like a smooth found stone in my pocket? Would I like to?

We Askers carry wonder with us, within ourselves, and often in our pockets and purses and backpacks and baskets and car trunks, too. Have you noticed this yet? We're never alone, so we rarely feel like we have to be brave alone. Lucky, lucky us.

If I come home without a seed or a wild rose petal or a weed or a fallen leaf or windfall branch or windfall usnea lichen in my pocket or a story about what a bird or squirrel or deer did or said, my sweetie checks in with me to make sure I'm ok. Wonder follows me home. Leaps into my pockets. She always has.

Have you noticed that some friends collect and carry wonders by:

• taking and sharing photographs
• drawing or painting
• writing or playing songs or poems
• gathering or growing herbs and medicinal plants and weeds and flowers or food
• reading
• baking or cooking
• hosting gatherings
• gathering small found objects of wonder and putting them together on shelves where they can keep each other company
• raising children or animals
• supporting parents or other people asking for help
• prioritizing rest
• remaining open and in awe of things
• following curiosity down rabbit holes even when nobody else joins them
• protesting, marching, speaking up for others, dancing, performing, and/or playing publicly or in the streets
• wandering in wilderness or cities or libraries or bookstores
• sending love notes and care packages
• asking for help
• making friends around the world online
• working for a more free and just human world
• protecting land, water, and air for all living beings and for all those who come next
• making good trouble behind the scenes
• slowing way down for others and just listening to others who need to talk– for friends, strangers, poor folks, wealthy folks, kind folks, angry folks– some Askers find wonders literally everywhere they go

I'm still learning.

Every friend who walked into our home this week said, out loud, upon arriving, "It's been a rough week." I'm great at listening to wilderness and plants and listening for love and connection and patterns globally online, but I struggle to be a great listener in person sometimes. Ok, often. Ok, always. So, I channeled several of my friends who are GREAT in-person people-listeners. I set down my plans. I set down my work. I emptied my mind with a deep breath. I made us some tea. And I asked what was going on. And then I shut up. I just listened. Just listening is one of the fastest paths to wonder.

Finding wonder everywhere I go in the forest and fields here, and in the heart field that connects us all, and within my own imagination has always been far more simple for me. Finding wonder within every angry or hurting human who walks in my own door or up to me on the street, isn't easy for me. But I'm learning that, eventually, this becomes simpler too. Even for empaths and daydreamers and writers and introverts and air signs and forest dwellers, aka me. Every time you can 1) ask what's up?, 2) shut up for a while, and 3) just listen. You join The Askers. You become an Asker. Join the side of those who love life on earth. No matter who you are.

Lori's wonder of the week

I have two. The first wonder is collective. Here on relatively rural Whidbey, our protests are growing. There were easily twice as many people at the April 5th protest as those who normally show up to protest on Saturdays. This morning, on April 19th, there were twice as many people as on April 5th. And 98% of those driving by either waved or honked or even held up signs in response to support those of us protesting. In the hours we were there, I only saw two people drive by and flip us off. Progress!

And here's my second wonder of the week. This one is personal, inspired by my global community. It's making me so happy! You're welcome to borrow this wonder if you've had a rough week or year or decade or if you just need a new wonder to carry around in your pocket this week.

The Tellers, the cruel men trying to destroy the U.S. federal government– and what feels like all of humanity and life on earth at the moment– aren't just fighting and harming their own citizens and visitors and guests here now. They're also fighting all of our neighbors too– for no reason that my empath-self (who feels the whole world) can sense beyond their own families' cross-generational unresolved childhood abuse and neglect and wealth and their resulting shockingly fragile egos and small, disconnected-from-so-much-of-life minds. They're fighting a whole planet of living beings now simply to avoid admitting that they hate themselves and that they could really use some help.

Thanks to all The Tellers' very visible tilting at windmills and fighting and harming beloved neighbors who they perceive to be terrible enemies, here in the U.S. we're quickly learning how others– including whole countries– fight to win. That is, fight for humanity and on behalf of life on earth herself. For example, we've learned that our Canadian neighbors say, "Elbows up!" as they fully face a fight.

Elbows up!

Elbows up!

What a gift these words are. These words echo within me and my poet's brain now in increasingly fun and funny and silly ways. Canadians– and everyone who lives on or in or above the land or waters within those borders– are my wonder this week. The gratitude we feel now for our country's neighbors is beyond measure. That entire vast region and her mountains, forests, animals, waterways, and peoples are a smooth found stone of wonder in my own pocket now. I will treasure you always. Here's how "Elbow's up!" is being leaned on by us this week:

• When we're out walking the dog or running errands, and I see a cat or dog or rabbit (our town has more than its fair share of domestic-turned-wild rabbits– long story) that I'd like to join on our side as we face a remarkably cruel and wildly corrupt governing body, I think or say, "Paws up!" Sometimes I even demonstrate, but in silly ways so as not to alarm friends. There are also a lot of deer and horses here. "Hooves up! Join us!" I think in their direction.
• When I see little birds who I'd like to have on our side, I say "Wings up!" And there are a lot of bald eagles where we live, too, so when I see them now, I think, "Talons out!"
• There are also two large groups of crows who live in/frequent our small town. D and I normally teasingly call them the Jets and the Sharks, imagining them as rival gangs who do fierce, jazzy battle mostly by singing and snapping their fingers, er, toes? Anyway, now that we're all in a fight together– for the health of the planet we all live on and love– the crows hear "Murders up!" from me as we walk or drive by now. Sometimes I snap my fingers, so they know I'm one of them. Collective beings rock. And crow. And sing.
• As an herbalist, listening to fields and forests and meadows and plants and insects is one of my most beloved tasks, so "Elbows up!" travels with me there as well. Branches up! Leaves up! Petals up! Antennae up! Feelers up! Even, I'll admit, weather up! I've witnessed the forests conjure their own fog here, a pure cool magic pouring out from beneath them and wrapping us in wonder made manifest, so I don't underestimate what forests can do anymore. Or what we humans can do when backed by the planet's wisest and oldest forests. Sometimes I'm certain that I hear "Elbows up!" in return. Other days, I hear "Dance, little ones. Just dance!" Trees share poems and songs too. Have you noticed?
• I love reading, especially mysteries. Without complete awareness about what I was doing, I managed to choose to read book series only by women authors the past few years. So, I'm reading three different mystery series right now that were written by amazing women, who write about amazing women, facing difficult and impossible situations, and across three different time periods: the early 1900s, the middle 1900s, and present day. As I read the books in these series, this year in particular, I feel a remarkable strength growing within me. A strength pouring forth from all the world's women who've had to fight to be writers, fight to be authors, fight to vote, and fight for the ability to wield the power innate within them over their own lives and bodies and families and land and futures– power that The Tellers, angry, fragile men, couldn't fully imagine and can't fully trust even today. As I read these characters, see them leaning on their own strengths and power at different points in time across the past 125 years– I occasionally hear them say now, too: "Elbows up, women! Elbows up all beings moving or well beyond binaries, too!" That others can't hear ancestors and can't hear both real and fictional characters from the past and present is not my concern anymore. I can hear them. We Askers can.
• The real non-binary and women friends in our lives, and the kindest and gentlest of men in our lives too– from my Mom to our aunts to my niece and sister to our neighbors and friends locally and around the globe– all fill me with energy and courage and reasons to stand together, speak up, and to fight, as needed, too. Just being in their presence now, and even being in their beautiful wake after they leave, I hear "Elbows up!" from a vast sisterhood of humanity now. A sisterhood now so inclusive and large and loud that they're becoming all but impossible to ignore. Even for the men cut off from their own sensitive natures as vulnerable children who were failed by frightened adults trapped in unshakeable pain.

It was fantastic to see so many of you standing up publicly for each other and for the country and world we all love today. Thank you, Askers.

Thank you.