The Anti-Serenity Prayer
On Numbness, Compassion, and the Courage to Feel in a Hurting World
Sometimes I am afraid of how much I care.
If I admit that what’s happening really bothers me, then what? Is that defeat? Did we lose the fight?
Will I be drowned in the immense pain the world is holding? Is there enough Prozac in my local Walgreens to dig me out of that pit of despair?
Maybe this bland, not-really-good / not-really-bad numbness is better and safer?
No, somehow the numbness is worse than the pit of despair. I can’t quite explain it. The numbness disgusts me on a visceral level.
There is something so deeply human about empathizing with our fellow living beings all around the world.
I almost enjoy feeling their pain in my own body.
I notice I am unconsciously mirroring their movements, even through the blue light of my phone screen, (which I am rebelliously watching in bed, too late at night, deep in a doom-scroll).
I find myself brimming with curiosity about who they are and what is their story. Who do they love and why? When the flood took their home, what is the weirdest thing they found themselves missing? Did they ever find their cat?
And when they cry, the tears burn my own eyes.
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I fought this part of my nature for far too long.
My body craved to feel, and my brain tried to protect me.
My sister across the world, who I have never met, carrying an unwanted pregnancy.
My brother, who grew up in another country, speaks a different language, and who was forced into the military.
My uncle who lost his child in a car accident.
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The generations before us carried their own pain and the pain of their people.
It’s how we survived.
American individualism sold us a lie: that strength means standing apart.
Still, our bodies remember.
We are built for connection, knitted together to feel each other’s pain and carry it as one.
This is the oldest strength we have.
existence
Why do we say “how are you doing?”
doing.
It is such an action-focused word in a question that is, apparently, meant to check in on the state of another person.
Even in empathy, the American way is to focus on productivity and the outward-facing representations of a person’s inner state.
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Today, my question is “how are you being?”
It feels almost absurd to tag on being when I could just say, “how are you?” but I am going to sit with that discomfort.
‘How are you being?’ makes perfect grammatical sense, just like ‘How are you doing?’ or ‘How are you feeling?’
It’s linguistically correct but culturally wrong.
Being is about a state of existence. Your inner experience, or your way of existing in the moment. It's a quieter, more reflective question—asking about your essence rather than your actions.
…
how are you being?
…
how are you being?
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how are you being?
acceptance
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
I hate when people invoke ‘the serenity prayer’ in response to some grave injustice in the world.
There is no injustice that cannot be changed.
And, there are things that are very hard to change that are absolutely unacceptable.
Serenity is not always good. We should not be, at all times, serene. Dare I say, there might be something wrong with you if you are serene always.
…
But, I have come to learn that there is some merit in acceptance.
Here is what “accepting things I cannot change” means to me now:
I accept the way I relate to the pain in our world.
Rather than trying to numb my natural response to tragedy, I now allow it freely.
I allow myself to feel complete devastation alongside those who experience tragedy.
I allow myself to feel absolutely enraged on behalf of my fellow living beings who are harmed and mistreated.
I wholeheartedly reject our cultural obsession with serenity (which I secretly believe might actually be our productivity obsession trying to masquerade as “health and wellness.”)
Out of deep love and gratitude for my world, I allow myself to be as un-serene as a human being can be.
I am built to help shoulder the pain in the world, like my ancestors before me. We are in this together.
To feel deep, visceral compassion for another living being is a reasonable, rational, and human response. May I accept who I am.
That is my anti-serenity prayer.
Your writing continues to amaze me. I so look forward to your Friday posts and the voice you bring to our hurting world. By allowing ourselves to feel the pain of others, we are motivated to help them and change things. All are one, we just forget. Thank you Bri! Such gratitude for your voice!
We do not live in this world alone, but are responsible for our fellow human beings. Yes, things can be changed and injustice can be addressed if we have the compassion and the courage to do that.