“Howʻs your heart, darling?”—2021 quote from the Culturally Relevant Evaluation and Assessment Hawai‘i group where Aunty Pua was a key member/mentor.
The Violence of Modern Life
There is a pervasive form of modern violence to which the idealist fighting for peace
by non-violent methods most easily succumbs: activism and over-work.
The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, of its innate violence.
To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns,
to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects,
to want to help everyone in everything is to succumb to violence.
The frenzy of the activist neutralizes his/her work for peace.
It destroys the fruitfulness of his/her work,
because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful.—Thomas Merton (shared by Aunty Pua)
Aunty Pua often asked me how I was doing, with such care and curiosity. She warned me and you to avoid the sickness of busy-ness, the violence of modern life. In the face of everything happening in the world, most of the folks I know do work that is in community and for community. Naturally, now, this means we can get overwhelmed or burnt out by this violence. It’s a delicate balance between the needs of a world on fire and the call for our own sanity and wellbeing, and even a sense of guilt and cognitive dissonance for the privileges and freedom we are able to enjoy. So: how’s your heart, darling?
Recently, while puttering around the house and listening to public radio, an episode of Hidden Brain came on. A professor shared about the psychology of despair and what happened when her students became overwhelmed while learning about the effects of climate change. This topic can make one feel like we are in the end of days, that the world is irretrievable and nothing can change the tide. (I’ve felt that before. Have you?) The professor explained that she noticed her students often shut down because of fear and an inevitable sense of doom, coupled with the knowledge and guilt of human culpability—a sense of our own pervasive complicity. She decided to study this phenomenon in her students and see what could be done to overcome this sense of hopelessness and fear, which she discovered can be contagious.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, this contagion is fueled by an increasingly negative media bias, our ever-growing tsunami of information from all over the globe, and social media algorithms—all conveniently accessible in the palm of our hand all the time, delivered straight through the isolated relationship between our face and our screens. These factors conspire to make us (especially youth) feel so small and adrift amidst large, seemingly intractable problems. More and ever more information about what’s happening in the world doesn’t necessarily inspire us to action. Sometimes, it shuts us down. (At a recent work lunch with respected colleagues, at least half the table said that they are limiting access to the news or eschewing it all together.)
The professor explained that the key to transforming despair into action lies in collective efficacy—the belief that we are part of something greater and that we are not alone in our struggles. Taking action together strengthens our sense of agency and reminds us that we can make a difference. She mentioned the importance of allowing ourselves time to recover, recuperate, and resource one another, thus reinforcing the foundations of a beloved community.
While advocating for change may not completely erase our despair, it helps us remember that we are not powerless. Leaning into the collective—rather than shouldering the burden alone—creates a deeper awareness of our shared strength and capacity for impact. This sense of connection and movement is often more powerful than any single action we take individually.
I’ll also add that the capacity to allow our emotions to move through us, rather than getting stuck in anxiety or overwhelm, is an essential part of this process. By metabolizing our feelings rather than suppressing them, we cultivate resilience and sustain our ability to engage in meaningful change.
This query into the collective reminds me of Aunty’s description of kākou. Kākou is more than you and me. It includes more than the two-legged creatures. Aunty pondered: “The mauna, the skies, are all our community. It’s not enough to just call on the two-leggeds…In reciprocity it’s about kinship, not about ‘pay me back.’ How do we honor the bees, trees?” To me, kākou the way Aunty Pua described it implies a sense of interconnectedness and accountability that builds collective efficacy in a Hawaiian context. It’s the whole community, the whole story. We have to remember to tell the whole story.
Here in Hawai‘i, many of us have the immense privilege of living in the lands of our ancestors. It’s not easy by any means, and it’s not a privilege all Hawaiians have. Others here participate as citizens of these islands, learning and respecting the culture and practices of the Indigenous people of this place, acknowledging kākou, becoming a part of the story of this place in an interactive and not extractive sense. And being connected here—to piko, place, and practice (as my friend No‘eau so eloquently articulates) can help us achieve that sense of collective efficacy. Although some have yet to feel it, we are connected and accountable to ‘āina, to generations past, present and future, and in that we are not alone. We access the collective resilience of our people and our kūpuna, wherever they are from. We gain strength and efficacy for the perhaps difficult journey ahead, and we also gain the joy and aloha and kuleana that comes along with it.
In 2021, at a monthly CREA-HI meeting, Aunty Pua said:
“The need to build beloved community is even more relevant now. Itʻs being sought after by those who didn’t previously value it. Even government needs it too. The light is shining brighter on areas where we need more healing in our community. To grow anew you need some destruction and crumbling; itʻs part of it. Now we need to call the beloved community so we can break up the foundation and address some of the issues. The impossible is possible. Weʻve been able to create action faster. The world is more ready now, even in the midst of chaos. Perhaps because of it.”
In this unstable time, how’s your heart? What are you leaning in to? Who and where do you go amidst the chaos and violence of modern life to feel connected? Where in your life is this connection turning to efficacy? What impossible thing has become possible as a result? What are you more ready for now? Where does hope lie?
Mahalo,
Dawn
Resource: Hidden Brain Episode on Climate Change
Mahalo to Sharon for articulating so well that we are living in a time of cognitive dissonance, and No‘eau always for the reminder of the importance of piko, place and practice.
A heart I was gifted while visiting Sa Pa, Vietnam with friends