Questions worth asking

How do we assess our own efforts?

Almost every morning, I write in three separate notebooks: a regular journal for thoughts and feelings, a gratitude journal, and a log of actions that (I hope) benefit my community or the world in some way, from writing an email to cleaning the community fridge to joining a protest to running a workshop. The first two notebooks loosely fall under self-care. The third is about world care. There’s something uncomfortable about admitting to this last journal, but I’ve found it helpful in a couple of ways: 1) to remind myself that small acts, done regularly, can assume a sort of reassuring heft, and 2) to remind myself of my big-picture priorities in a world that fosters disengagement in big issues in favour of individual pursuits.

Yet despite the steady accumulation of these efforts, and all the acts that go unrecorded, so often I wonder, Is this enough? In the big picture, in terms of what needs to be done on any number of issues, I know we are at best a distant satellite of enough. The need to contribute more seems obvious. I wonder, Am I living up to my responsibilities to my fellow humans, to the Earth, to my non-human brethren, to the future and all those who live in it? When I look back, will I say I did all that I could?

Of course these big existential questions are always set against the churn of less lofty daily responsibilities (earning a paycheque, care and feeding of humans, etc.), tasks often more urgent and — at least for the hour, the day — satisfiable (or at least satisficeable, which is what I aim for in my home maintenance and personal hygiene). Each of our roles has its own enoughness scale, but our time is finite, as is our capacity to help. (For more on this, I recommend the sane and reassuring work of Oliver Burkeman.)

Yet I’m also aware it’s easy to let ourselves off the hook, to cry self-care, to compare ourselves to people who do very little, to rest on past contributions, to thrust all the responsibility for action onto governments and corporations and billionaires.

My enoughness fixation is, I think, borne of some witches’ brew of altruism, anxiety, the liquefying uncertainty of it all, and a significant Lisa Simpson complex. It’s a well-intentioned but unhelpful question I’m working to set aside.

Instead, I first try to remind myself that we’re transforming our world as a team, dependent on the actions of no one person, no matter how many entries they have in their weird little notebook (which is, admittedly, a weird individualistic accounting of collective care). We all need to step up, but we can take turns. We can all give what is sustainable over the long run.

And what’s sustainable will inherently change over various seasons of our lives. So I do think there’s a benefit in regularly assessing our own efforts, but I suggest we choose better questions. Maybe: What is mine to do today/this week/this month/this year? What can I offer? What muscles can I strengthen? What opportunities do I have or can I create? How can I show up?

Maybe you ask these questions (or better ones for you) each morning, maybe you set an appointment for once a quarter. Maybe you fill out one of these worksheets, which are useful for generating ideas and formulating goals. The most important thing, I think, is to figure out your guiding question and practice asking it. Sometimes you won’t get a clear answer, or you won’t live it out that day, but you still get a glimpse of something possible, have a chance to feel the warmth of the flame you’re tending. I’ve come to realize, thanks in great part to Krista Tippett, that a question can be a companion rather than a spectre (or at the very least a friendly ghost).

This newsletter’s mandate has been to share practical guidance, to find moments of clarity in complex issues, and so this may all seem a little amorphous to you, kind subscriber. And perhaps you don’t share my particular neuroticism. But if you are struggling with assessing your own world-care efforts, you are not alone, and I hope you can shift your focus away from judgment toward possibility.

Recently I was working on a book with an interview with activist and Benedictine nun Sister Joan Chittister, and one of her answers really resonated with me. She said,

I don’t know how much influence I have had. That is irrelevant to me. What is not irrelevant to me is the moral commitment to engage in the question. You can learn a lot by listening to everybody else’s side, but you must engage yourself. Far too many people sit in comfortable chairs, saying, “I don’t pay any attention to climate change” (or whatever the issue is). People yawn; they deny the call of action. But you better give it a little thought and change the discussion to one of discernment. You better be open to grow in these difficult and now daily emerging issues, from climate change to racial tension, pandemics, voting rights, gun violence, and more. These are the stories that threaten all of us, whether we engage them or not. You must enter into the question.

So I encourage you, as I encourage myself: enter into the questions. Let the questions be wayfinding tools, knowing the landscape is forever shifting under your feet. Let the asking not be fearful, but a sign of your commitment to an ethics of care, to the world-that-could-be. Let yourself be surprised by today’s answer, curious about tomorrow’s.

Keep asking.

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What are your questions? I’d love to hear them. Click reply to let me know, or share them with us all in the comments.

And thank you for opening these now randomly timed emails. If you like these missives that lean more to reflection that suggestion, let me know. Winter, for me, is the best time to light a candle and see where my thoughts take me.

xo

Jen

Five Minutes for Planet is written by me, Jen Knoch, and edited by Crissy Calhoun. Opening photo by @matty10 on Unsplash.