Holding Myself Accountable: An Affirmation of Humility & Hope

Holding Myself Accountable: An Affirmation of Humility & Hope February 19, 2022

Today, I wrote myself a note: Stop fueling the negative energy. See what’s happening and recognize that you have no control over it. The change you want to see in the world begins at home. The greatest act of rebellion is refusing to imitate the hate. Spread love.

I recognized that I was succumbing to the fear frequency again. I was choosing to inundate myself with information that served me no purpose other than to induce anxiety. For the last few weeks, I have been angry about the state of the world. I have felt helpless to the cries of others who are facing threats to their personal freedoms. All over the world, it seems, there are so many people that are struggling and suffering through so much.

But the truth that wounds me is that there is little I can do about or for other people in the world. I could say a prayer, but I think that prayers are often for the self rather than others. And will others hear my prayers? I am not so sure. I could call congresspeople. But will they listen to my messages? I could post on social media. But does that change anything? I could protest but it seems that protesting = terrorism, and I don’t want to be put on some FBI watch list.

I recognize that this is a burden I have created for myself. I watch all these different narratives play out and they get to me. I want to do something, anything, to stop it. To stop the suffering of others. But why do I want to do that? Does it make me feel suffering when I see others suffering? Some would say it’s empathy, and maybe it is. But isn’t it also a bit ego-centric? If it’s for me, or to prevent my empathetic feelings of suffering, then how does that benefit others? All I am saying is that I question my motives, even empathy for the people of the world.

More than that, regardless of what narrative is playing out, I can produce my own narrative. Everything we perceive is reflected through the lens we use. A narrative is simply a lens on life. What you perceive depends on how you choose to perceive. It’s a tricky little psyche game we play with ourselves. The question I ask myself is, “Do I want to see consciously or unconsciously? Do I want to choose to perceive what I see through the lens of love or the lens of fear?”

The narrative I want to see starts with me.

The narrative I want to see starts with me. I take accountability for the lens that I select to view my world. How then can I not recognize that there is only so much I can do, and most of it won’t help you? But there is this sweet little secret that disarms all the dystopian threats of the world, although it’s not such a swift and obvious spread of change. In its most radical form, the blatant demonstration of nonconformity is expressed through an erotic protest: the refusal to imitate hate. When I refuse to propagate the hate, I am taking power away from the fear frequency and plugging it directly into the love frequency. When we see horrific acts, the first and foremost action we can take to prevent what we see is refusing to duplicate it.

After that, change occurs in intimate proximity—through relationship, even if it’s temporary. We can choose to reflect what we want to see for the world rather than what we have witnessed in the world. I can only imagine that is how Jesus was able to accomplish all he did. He had to be willing to see what he had hope for rather than just looking at what was in front of his eyes. As though he had an internal lens that he could zoom out from and see the bigger picture, outside of time and space.

Don’t you want to invite that Zen-like way of seeing the world? It’s not opting for the ignorant lens. It’s accepting what is and knowing that I cannot prevent it from happening. I can prevent how much energy I give to what I cannot prevent—what I cannot control. I can only control myself. My thoughts and my actions are of my own doing, whether consciously or unconsciously. I am in control of myself. I control the lens. The question I ask myself is this, “What lens do I want to choose every morning?” My hope is that I choose the lens of love. And when I don’t choose the lens of love, my hope is that I can extend grace to, and encourage myself to keep practicing. Life is a learning process.

 

The most radical form of protest is the refusal to imitate hate.

About Danielle M Kingstrom
Danielle is a writer, podcaster, and home-school teacher. She lives in rural Minnesota on a farm with her husband and five children. Together, they maintain a fourth generation legacy farm and raise chickens and cattle. When she is not reading, writing, or self-educating; she can be found outdoors in nature’s naked elements. Danielle is an avid gardener, a lover of art, knowledge, and always a student. She is active in revitalization projects within her community, partnering with committees to bridge the Rural Divide. Unafraid of sparking controversy, Danielle is a frequently published author, appearing regularly in her community’s local newspaper; writing about provocative issues and asking challenging questions that raise a few eyebrows. She is currently working on two books. You can read more about the author here.

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