So, what do we do?
In the midst of this COVID-19 pandemic (late 2020), people seem to be spending most of their time stressing out about the world’s—and their neighbor’s—response to the disease, feeling despair and depression at being socially isolated, and lamenting the current political situation. Is this you? Any of it?
There’s something about complaining that scratches the itch, so to speak. We’re told not to complain, but I know that often when I complain about something, for instance that I can’t find something, it often shows up, usually where I’d just looked.
What bothers me about how we share our stress regarding the world right now is that all this energy, and yes it is energy, feeds negativity. Complaints about the world don’t resolve the same way they do when I lose something. These complaints actually expand the very negativity that is the basis for the lament. Sharing the stress doesn’t end with despair; it is fed by the despair. So, the brilliant put-down, the sharing of heartfelt hopelessness and emptiness, the latest study on how our Internet and other interactions are harmful feed this fear and induce and increase the depression.
How?
Isolation and physical distance have all become justifications for inaction. The extent of this inaction, which has become fairly pervasive, is so unfamiliar that it is perceived as threatening and, so, manifest as fear. Added to the inaction are the fear of death (from the disease) and helplessness. Remember, inaction (freezing) and fleeing (how many of you in the United States are considering moving elsewhere?) are responses to fear. Other fear responses are fainting (avoidance) and fighting, which looks like action for those of you with political leanings, but also shows up as people ignoring distancing guidelines and political realities or reading every news article, whether verified or not.
What you focus on expands. That may be a truism, but notice how much power we give away in all the above actions. There’s got to be another choice between doing too much and not doing anything at all.
Where are the things we can do that might, just might, be positive? Instead of fighting, what might heal and build? What might seed positivity?
Remember when you discovered Spirit Moxie? I am assuming you at least liked the Facebook page. In case you didn’t get this Conversation post in your email, I’m adding a link to sign up so you won’t miss the next one! Remember that little nod when you admitted that you wanted the world to be slightly better? When there was a glimmer and a smile at the suggestion that maybe, just maybe, our small actions could morph into energy that could change the world? (Refresher course 101 on this idea if you don’t quite understand this – opening piece at www.spiritmoxie.com.)
Even in isolation, the world is still here. We still have family and friends and dreams. We can still change the world. Really. But if the accepted default is that of inaction, if we always do what we’ve always done, we will indeed keep getting what we have.
So, play with this. Literally. What can you do that’s new? What can you learn? The other day I figured out a new pattern for making my bed. Really. I’m still excited. Just the energy of claiming something new or different changes things around me. Acknowledge that you are “doing:”
Smile – even when wearing a mask. A smile shows in your eyes!
Reach out to others. Have you figured out how to connect via electronics? Have you walked someone else through how to connect?
What have you created? Art. An idea. A recipe. A new way to do what?
Have you shared your visions and your dreams?
Did you try?
Have you turned off your news feed or at least limited it? Trust me, you’ll learn what you need to learn. How can you stop giving violent and negative actions power while still holding those responsible accountable? Yes, the whole point is that what you do matters.
You have an answer to at least some of this. I’m guessing you, personally, are not called to curing this disease or running for public office. But small answers really can morph into a positive whole, even when that makes no sense at all. So, try a new form of pickles. Or whatever. Tiny little things still hold us together and whirl us into the future of our dreams.
And share. Share in the comments. On social media. In, gasp, conversation. Remember: “little things we do together.” There’s work to do if we dare.
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Images from the top:
Sidewalk challenge — Spirit Moxie
Website banner — www.spritmoxie.com
From Spirit Moxie Facebook banner — Michael Phillips
Meanwhile, there are all the bits I’ve been saying here about listening to our bodies. These comments might sound the same. Specifically, I’ve been claiming that our bodies keep trying to get our attention as we live into our best selves. (I was going to say “true purpose,” but that sounds as if there is only one right path, which I don’t believe at all.)
So is a fall always a sign? I don’t think it is necessarily. A couple of months ago (mid-December 2019,) I fell again while walking a friend’s dog. Somehow, I tripped on a rise in the sidewalk, knew I tripped, and fell in a way that I couldn’t stop myself. Sparing you the details of the next hours (and days), I finally learned I had fractured my right elbow and would be wearing a stylish black sling when I was out of the house. But throughout this experience I was, and still am, very sure it was just an accident. I fell simply because I wasn’t focused on where I was going. It was a painful and inconvenient, but effective way to force me to become more ambidextrous. It was a dramatic way to encourage me to continue to 
Bottom line: sometimes stuff happens just because it happens. Sometimes things happen because there is something important that you are missing and need to learn about or pay attention to. This simply means learn to listen. Without blaming yourself or anyone else about what happens to you, how are you called to be your best self? What are you being told and why?
Well, that and that Moxie Moves: 10 ways to make a powerful difference can indeed be a new year’s journey. Change the world, change yourself. Or vise versa. Available through your favorite source for books. And an autographed copy is still available at 
It’s late 2019 and I’m writing this in Thailand, a country where I don’t know the language and have only the vaguest knowledge of the customs. While I was here once before, it seems more difficult this time to actually get anywhere. The last time I was here I stayed with extended family members who would talk to taxi drivers for me. But on this trip, these same people are letting me experiment with what it might be like to live here. I have a small, family owned condo far (or it seems far) from any public transportation. The first time I tried to go somewhere the taxi dropped me off at a major bus station instead of the Sky Train that was my destination. The first cab I tried to hail to take me back home wouldn’t take me even though I showed him the address written out in Thai.
Oh, OK. Do I need help? No, I’m fine. I have my Thai phone and have signed up for the equivalent of an Uber service called Grab. I’ve almost figured out how to find locations where drivers can easily find me to pick me up to get home. I can walk from my condo to a mall that has restaurants, a grocery store, and place to buy an umbrella, water glasses, and a pitcher, which were the only things that seemed missing from “my” apartment. I have also learned that I make way too many assumptions. Somehow I expect people to know what I want, but the truth is that they’re waiting to be asked. People are glad when I do ask for whatever.
So who am I? I just found a coffee shop where I can write on my computer. I still haven’t created a space at home where I can write easily. And I’ve met multiple people (well, six) who are concerned about the process of being present. Through that connection I received an invitation to join a writing group. But I’m guessing that these activities aren’t part of a true identity either. There is a me beyond the one who likes coffee shops for writing and enjoys talking about “just being.”
Somewhere beyond this list of would be busyness there is a calm where possibility is created. Unfortunately it is also a place a bit beyond words which is all I have here. It is an extreme manifestation of what I’ve written before in 
Somehow I again forgot to request “no straw” with my water. But maybe I’m forgiven. Wait staff at my usual breakfast spots and a few bars never bring me one, so I forget that at some places people put them in drinks automatically. Why no straw? Straws don’t degrade easily; they increase trash; and I don’t particularly like them. So for me they’re a waste.
However some little and some not so little things have happen as they should and do. Every Saturday, I go to our local farmer’s market. While I’m there, I always collect a hug from a woman selling a newspaper that covers stories about the concerns of street people. The paper is sold by homeless or otherwise indigent people, instead of their begging for money. Somehow I never remember the name of the woman I stop to see, although she regularly bawls me out for being outside with wet hair and tells me about her dog and her husband. So, I figured I’d ask her name! (Again.) This time, I entered it in my phone and, with her permission, took a photo to go with it. As I walked around the market, I realized that these, too, are little things. Connecting with others. Learning names. I also realized I wanted to tell this story to you. So, I found my newspaper seller again. “Do you care if I use your picture on line?” “No,” she replied, “don’t do that. There were these people…[and another story ensued].” “OK, so I won’t use your name,” I said. “Oh, you can use my name,” she answered. “Just not my picture.” So here are other little things. Respect everyone. Ask for permission. Her name is Julie in case I need you to help me remember it.
The other two things happened by my following what my body wanted to do which is part of the challenge of 
Plus, for me there are the ongoing little things such as to remember to 
I’m excited about this new year. Maybe it’s because 2018 ended with an almost violent reset. A relationship I knew wasn’t forever ended suddenly. Maybe because my continued quest to “just be” has become more second nature with practice. Or perhaps it’s because I have an ongoing commitment to hope and possibility.
I did get to Hawaii, the first planned bucket list item I’ve done in years. So, somehow one can plan and “just be” at the same time, which is a skill I’m slowly learning. One buys the tickets or makes the plan — but you know that action is separate from the trip or the event. If it happens, it happens. For example, when I was ill at the end of 2016, I had to cancel two plane trips, but wasn’t penalized at all for doing so. Last year, I bought tickets for an event before my relationship ended and I wound up going to the concert with a completely unexpected someone for a supportive and gentle, and unplanned, afternoon.
On