Welcome to the Art of Onward

or, how we're gonna get through this... whatever "this" is

It’s a challenging period as a country and a culture, with a lot coming at us all the time. We need to take care of ourselves even as we seek loving, purposeful action. I’m also feeling the need to be together in this difficult time. That’s why I’m beginning a six-month series for supporting subscribers called The Art of Onward.

Each month I’ll share two items:
—a practice for sustaining ourselves spiritually (that’s today’s post)
—a creative “way-station”: a value to help us move toward the world as it could be, to transform the “three feet or so” that Carrie Newcomer sings about. These values connect with the material in my upcoming book. Our first world-building event is this Monday 1/20, see below.

Some pieces will be written reflections; some will be live video conversations, with recordings available later. Full schedule is below.

I hope you’ll join me as we explore The Art of Onward!

If you’d like to join us and need financial assistance, please get in touch. Members and friends of Trinity Presbyterian, Herndon are eligible for complimentary gift subscriptions; just ask.

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Whew, y’all. Just… wow.

The past week has been fairly gutting for a lot of us, especially people with ties to Southern California. How rare are fires like this in January? Pretty unusual, though we need to get used to the unusual becoming usual.

And, well, the circus is back in town.

Most people I know are trying to find a way to stay informed about important events so we can respond—fighting back when it’s practical, reducing harm when it’s not. But we need to do this while not getting sucked into every stupid thing. A profoundly unserious person is waving a laser pointer around. Let’s not all be cats.

What to do, what to do?

We start the Art of Onward with the radical notion that, perhaps, we don’t have to do anything. At least, not right now. Here in the second week of January, most people I know are still easing into things… as one friend said, Oh no… here comes all that ‘circling back’ we were going to do after the holidays. By now, New Year’s resolutions are falling to pieces all around us. That should tell us something about the need to listen to our bodies, our hearts, our intuitions, our deepest wisdom—to trust that, as urgent as this moment is in many ways, the answer cannot be to brute-force ourselves into action, nor descend into reactivity and alarm.

Instead, let’s practice looking for the light, even if it’s just barely hovering over the horizon. Even if the winter sun casts long shadows and barely keeps the chill at bay.

the first sunrise of the new year, Þingvellir National Park

That’s what I experienced recently on our family’s trip to Iceland, a delayed thirtieth anniversary celebration for the five of us. Being in a place with only four hours of daylight, especially during a vacation, invited us to pay attention to our bodies—a vital place to start in any endeavor, and one many of us rational Westerners tend to forget.

Sometimes, we got ourselves up before sunrise for walks on a snowy path near our house, knowing it would feel good to move.

Other times, the darkness beckoned us to sit on the couch with tea—to trust that, as amazing as this country is, stuffing every day full of activity was not what we needed:

Those are my fuzzy socks in the bottom right

Sometimes, the promise of dancing light led us out into some brutal temperatures:

And sometimes, dammit, you make your own light. Icelanders are CRAZY about fireworks. They’re allowed to set them off one day a year, New Year’s Eve. What you see in this video went on in this manner for at least 20 minutes. These aren’t official displays. These are just randos (what a woman we met in a sauna lovingly called “maniacs”):

Consider our time in Iceland a template for your own search for light. I elaborate on all of this in the short video below. Did you know there’s three kinds of twilight? (There’s a transcript, automatically generated, if you’d rather read than listen. Just click on the link.)

I’m hoping and preparing for The Art of Onward to be a bearer of light in these troubled days—a gift we will give each other.

Where are you seeing light right now… even if it’s not the warm sunshine blazing overhead? Comments left via the button below will be shared with other supporting subscribers.

Our next installment in the series is our first world-building conversation, next Monday at noon Eastern. But MaryAnn, that’s happening at the same time as the inauguration. Huh. So it is 🤔

The Art of Onward—Schedule

January 13—Spiritual Sustenance (asynchronous*)
January 20—Way-Station One: Curiosity (12 p.m. ET on Zoom)
February 10—Spiritual Sustenance (asynchronous)
February 24—Way-Station Two: Courage (12 p.m. ET on Zoom)
March 10—Spiritual Sustenance (asynchronous)
March 24—Way-Station Three: Presence (12 p.m. ET on Zoom)
April 7—Spiritual Sustenance (asynchronous)
April 21—Way-Station Four: Authenticity (asynchronous)
May 12—Spiritual Sustenance (asynchronous)
June 2—Way-Station Five: Beauty (asynchronous)
June 16—Spiritual Sustenance (12 p.m. ET on Zoom)
June 30—Way-Station Six: Community (12 p.m. ET on Zoom)

*Asynchronous events may shift slightly, but will take place the week scheduled.
Zoom link for live conversations is below. Becoming a supporting subscriber to access.

Thanks for joining me as we share The Art of Onward together!