I’ve been working on a post about putting together Easter baskets. It should be an easy, fun write up. But for some reason, I’m struggling. Maybe it’s the heaviness I feel in the air – like the atmosphere is weighted down by an unseen force and I can’t escape it. The air is thick with pain and unbelievable sorrow – and I feel as if I need to face it before I can talk about pastel-colored eggs and chocolate bunnies. In some way, I suppose I’m navigating how to live happily in an unhappy world.
First, let me tell you that I don’t know how to live happily in an unhappy world. I don’t have the answer. But I know that I can’t be alone in this emotional struggle. It’s quite easy to block out the hurt of the world. Bundling myself in my own privilege of safety and comfort while thousands remain homeless in a nearby city and children are being slaughtered halfway around the world. Scrolling past painful images of unimaginable loss – I gulp down the rising nausea and shake away the grief.
I don’t know what to do.
I lose myself in the normality of my days – making meals for picky mouths, cleaning up sticky messes, washing jeans with dirt-stained knees, comforting nighttime worries, and wiping away tears. All while a mother in Gaza is wailing – deep, gut wrenching moans for the lifeless bodies she carries – unsure of where to go or what to do. Her screaming haunts my dreams.
I don’t know what to do.
Driving into town, I grab my reusable bags – hopefully enough to hold the amount of food on my list. My headphones block out the bustle of daily life and I’ll lose myself in my favorite playlist while I check items off my list. Fresh chicken, bananas, apples, milk, spinach (that no one will eat), snacks, and ice cream are always a priority. Bundling my goods together, I cram them in the back of my car as one apple rolls out of the bag onto the street – and I’m annoyed. At the same time in a different space, children are crying out in desperation for an aching hunger that’s being denied.
I don’t know what to do.
Back home, I put away my groceries in cupboards and neatly organized baskets. A crow caws at me through an open window and I step out onto a sun soaked deck. Closing my eyes, I absorb the warmth and sink into a plush chair. It’s quiet. A dog barks in the distance and a gentle breeze weaves itself through the pine branches. I’m lulled to sleep by its sound. Thousands of miles away, a mother is startled awake by gunfire. An explosion rattles the walls. She barely has time to throw herself over the bodies of her children before everything falls around her.
I don’t know what to do.
You see, there is something painful about feeling powerless. There is a rawness about injustice that grates away at my soul. Yet, I continue about my days as if suffering is something I can neatly pack away when necessary. It’s important to recognize the disparity that exists all around us. It’s important to sit with the pain. It’s important to realize that you don’t know how to fix it. It’s important to realize that there are complexities beyond simple solutions – but that humanity deserves humanity.
How do we live happily in an unhappy world? I don’t have an answer – but maybe we start by seeing that compassion begins with you. Perhaps you don’t need to understand the complexity and depth of the issues facing people around the world – you just need to have empathy for humanity and humility to learn from others.
When I look at my children, I know that their lives are intertwined with those children who are being mercilessly killed in Gaza. They deserve peace. The world deserves peace.
I will continue to share my art and I will do what I can to support peace. See below for resources to help those affected by violence and displacement:
*Please research any organization before donating.
Thank you for being here – peace to you.
