How do you review a year? If I was going to review 2024 as if it was a book, I think I would write “thumbs down,” “this plot is ridiculous,” “author jammed so much into this story that it doesn’t make sense,” or something like that. Yet, here I am, leafing through the pages of my planner and thinking, “How did all this happen in one year?”
I experienced a lot of loss this year, of both humans and turtles, some big life changes, and several significant challenges. Oh, and there was a tornado outbreak here in New York’s Adirondack Mountain region – not exactly tornado country – and an accompanying three-day power outage. And I was busy, too busy to be able to process the losses and changes. So, when it came time to plan for 2025, I did more crossing off than adding to my goals and intentions.
2025 brings an old/new administration to the White House, one that is likely to actively undermine everything I care about. In the weeks since the U.S. election I have been thinking about how I can best serve my communities: my local community, the broader circles of human community I have created online, and the even broader community of beings I have committed to caring for. Somewhat accidentally, while updating my speaker bio for a presentation I was giving, I dedicated myself to preserving the magic of biodiversity on Earth. That’s a huge promise to the Universe, and it has vexed my attempt at planning for next year.
After much arguing with the neighborhood squirrels (i.e. ranting in the woods while the squirrels ran around not really contributing to the conversation) I came to the conclusion that the only way I am going to navigate my nonprofit through a potentially difficult economy, care for all the beings who need care, including me, and have space for the deeper work of connecting with the magic around me is to put less on my schedule. I cannot have another year where things go wrong (like a freaking tornado) and my life implodes. I threw away the whole list of things I wanted to manifest in 2025 and set very modest goals.
I’m sure you’ve read that human rights are in danger, conservation and climate-change mitigation efforts are probably stalled, if not undone, and the tech bros are going to use all our electricity for AI that steals from creatives and generates BS. You are probably hearing you should be ready to fight, resist, take action. I hear the same, but I am not putting any of those things on my to-do list. Instead, I am engaging in the radical non-action of saying no:
- To assigning myself work so I feel like a good capitalist producer, even though I’m not really producing anything
- To filling my schedule with offerings that I won’t put my heart into making wonderful
- To running from one thing to another without giving myself time to grieve until I have a big breakdown
- To trying to fix all the big stuff while ignoring the sacred beings right in front of me
- To being in charge of anything else (I am seriously putting my foot down here.)
Will things go to shit after Trump is sworn in? Probably, but the turtle that gets hit by a car this spring doesn’t care about politics. Her life will matter whether the economy is good or bad. There will be ecosystems destroyed for greed, species lost forever, and even more climate change fueled disasters. If I patch up this turtle and get her home despite all that, I will have done enough. It has to be enough.
What if, though, we all do enough? What if you turn your back on the manufactured chaos designed to keep you feeling scared and powerless, commit to the radical non-action of saying no to the big fight, and find a way to serve whoever is right in front of you? What if, at this time next year, your mental and emotional health was intact?
What if that is enough?