I do yoga.
I sometimes even curl up on the couch and read. Yes, it’s usually a book about human rights or climate change or sociology, but, still.
I understand the need to turn off our compassion and to console ourselves.
But we cannot retreat, not really, from the horrors of tragedy and the mundane suffering.
We cannot lull ourselves into thinking that caring for ourselves requires hiding from the world, or that we are somehow entitled to ‘peace’, if peace is purchased at the price of tremendous injustice and pain.
In One Nation Under Stress, this idea of ‘stressism’, of stress as a mentality and a sort of collective infatuation, is related to our self-talk that tries to convince ourselves that what we need (and deserve) is solitude and release and ‘free time’, when what we really need is improvement in the conditions that prompt this stress response in the first place.
Because there are two ways to respond to the unimaginable and the predictably wrong: to resolve to respond with all energy and passion or to draw into our shells and hope that things will somehow go away.
Our desire to flee the discomfort of stress leads us to retreat, when what the world craves–and what, in the end, is the only thing that can bring real relief–is concerted action to address the factors that contribute to our stresses.
We cannot be turtles, withdrawing in timidity, when our age demands tigers.