beloveds

a love letter from PATH OF DEVOTION + Jen Lemen

about rest and activism

As I write this morning, my town is in a state of mourning. Our congressman Jamie Raskin and his wife Sarah Bloom Raskin announced yesterday that their beloved son Tommy died of suicide on December 31, 2020. 

The Raskins live in Takoma Park, about a mile from my house. My kids went to the same public schools as their children. Jamie is someone we each know in our own way, as his presence in our community is real, hands-on and heartfelt. In the wake of COVID-19, after an incredibly hard year, this loss of such a bright light comes with so much sorrow, so much shock. We love this family and our hearts are breaking with theirs.

This announcement comes days before the Proud Boys descend on our city, bringing with them hate rooted in toxic masculinity, real violence and white supremacy. Warnings of danger and potential attacks have been announced as the Mayor’s office, BLM and SURJ-DC invite us to take different forms of action (or retreat) in response. These events highlight the challenges of organizing and just how much rigor solidarity demands.

And here we are in the middle of winter...resting. How can this be?

Today, I want to say that the fight before us is real. 

That we are not immune to the despair of Tommy Raskin in his outpouring of tender love for the world. That we are not exempt from the confrontations that must happen with every form of injustice and hate within us and without. That we are not excused from addressing the fervor of hate determined to preserve power at the expense of all. That we are not entitled to opinions that would alienate us from the deep solidarity required for us to come together in radical responsibility for each other and the planet.

And still.

In these moments that demand our full attention, 

it is imperative, beloved, that we even now, 

interrupt the emergency with a defiant and mournful pause…

…that we take a moment to return to our bodies, to our breath, to our rest... and wait. If only for a millisecond. 

Because without the capacity to be with what’s right here, right now, we won’t have the ability to listen, really listen for the guidance that lives underneath and knows exactly the paths unfolding before us, the ones that are ours to take, the ones that instruct us on the next right move and the one after that. The ones that teach us over time and trust, how to really hear each other, so we can move in sync like starlings. 

Pausing teaches us how to trust our bodies.

Pausing teaches us how to recognize our intuition.

Pausing teaches us how to have confidence in the instincts of others as they pause as well. 

Pausing teaches us how to access the body not as a machine but as a vibrant, living source of wisdom that can guide us through the inevitability of harm, if we have the courage to collectively listen. 

This kind of listening, this kind of discernment, makes rest a wholly necessary and defiant act. 

It is how we collectively acknowledge that the laws of these lands do not and will never have the final say, but that we are governed ultimately by the will of Nature, which determines our outcomes even as we surrender to live in harmony and cooperation with her requirements, limitations, always and in all ways.

Today, as we grieve Tommy’s passing and our city prepares for protests tomorrow, I invite you to join me in the ancient practice of keeping vigil--not as a bypass or act of avoidance of the work before us, but as a way of being alert, staying on call and of consecrating all of our energy and desire to the will of a deeper Source, one that I believe runs through us and guides us in the way of repair, restoration and reparation when we cultivate the capacity to listen.

For the next 48 hours, I’m keeping still, with candles lit, at the ready to respond.

Rest and quiet--if only gathered in moments--inform me of what’s for me to do on every level, so when the call comes, I am prepared to act. So when it’s my time to initiate, I know exactly the how and what of the one small thing that is mine to do. 

Click here to learn how activists in our community are organizing right now.

If you’re an activist participating in a direct action over the next few days, or someone who knows you have to sit this one out, for whatever reason, hit reply. I’ll add your name to Tommy’s altar, and together we will push back on the forces that say coercion and ‘power-over’ is the only option. Together we'll find the grace to acknowledge that despair like Tommy's is so often rooted not in pathology but in legitimate, spectacular, deep, otherworldly love. The kind from which I believe, the futures we are dreaming of unfurl.

Sending you every gentleness today. And so much love. So much love.

P.S. Feel free to share this letter anywhere you feel it would bring grounding or comfort. Here's a shareable link.