A Movement That Holds Us: Jasmin’s Sabbatical Reflections
On November 6th—just after returning from my three months of sabbatical—I woke up early to the news. Donald Trump would be our President. California voted to keep slavery in prisons. San Francisco elected a Mayor who spoke about locking up the most impacted people, rather than caring for their basic needs. I knew it was going to be an intense day, so I started by joining Prentis Hemphill’s embodiment practice space. As nourishing as that space was, after checking in on my folks, hosting a three-hour-long staff meeting to analyze the election results, & holding space for our members to process it too, my body, mind, & spirit were completely depleted. I crawled into bed nauseous & aching. I thought, “I have been here before.” I didn’t just mean the election: I meant this feeling of burnout & isolation.
As much as I know how important it is to check in with myself, rest, & ask for help, I have struggled many times to choose these when I feel overwhelmed. Despite the culture of sustainability LavNix has cultivated, despite being surrounded by a caring community, despite the healing work I have done to unlearn my people-pleasing & perfectionist tendencies, I still fall into these patterns. It happened on my very first day back from sabbatical, & happened the day after the election too. That night, I asked myself, “Haven’t I learned anything after years of organizing & leading a LavNix committee literally called ‘Healing Justice’? What was the point of my sabbatical if I haven’t healed? Why do I keep doing this to myself? What is wrong with me? ” Sometimes I can be hard on myself. Maybe you can relate.
That post-election Friday, I listened to a talk by Angela Davis & Lama Rod Owens, moderated by Prentis Hemphill & hosted by the East Bay Meditation Center. Many things they shared stood out to me. Angela said she has never in her lifetime witnessed this level of facism in this country. Lama Rod emphasized the need for organizers to take turns resting & caring for each other. Prentis grounded us in the importance of “practice” in these hard times. So I came back to my practice of awareness, compassion, & curiosity. I saw this burn out moment for what it was: not proof of my failings as a Healing Justice organizer, but rather proof of the dire political conditions we are all living in. I remembered that practice is not about perfection: it’s ok if I slip up, as long as I commit to returning to the practice, again & again. So, I came back to the practices that I & Lavender Phoenix value: self determination, honesty & interdependence. I remembered my agency, & I chose to share with others that I was having a hard time. I asked for & I accepted help. It wasn’t perfect, but I tried.
My sabbatical was also an imperfect practice & experiment. I am the first LavNix staff member to be gifted a sabbatical. This was a brave act for both me & our organization. It was courageous for me to choose rest & to trust my coworkers & members to support me. I felt nervous, but it felt so nurturing to allow the community to hold me. For my members, they bravely led our work, leaned into each other for help, & grew more into their power. They even chose to also take some rest this summer. I don’t believe sabbaticals are the “cure all” for organizer burn out; I think the key is constant daily practices of sustainability that will hold us in this work for the long run. But after listening to that inspiring talk with Angela, Rod & Prentis, I realized the sabbatical was also a practice space for LavNix & for myself. I had to choose everyday how to use my time. Should I travel? Should I sleep? Should I heal? Should I see people? Should I make art? I had to get very quiet & dive beneath the “shoulds” to try to listen to my truest knowing. It was not easy, but it was a good practice in freedom.
When I returned from my time off, I sensed something had shifted or opened up in both me & my members & coworkers. I was very curious: What did this experiment teach us & make possible for our visions of Healing Justice & collective sustainability at LavNix & beyond? I asked the Healing Justice committee this, & one of our Core members, elyse/lin, shared:
It is so rare when we have others around us who push so well against their own fears of disconnection that they can carve out spaces of rest for each of us. It requires trusting we will all responsibly hold just a little more so our loved ones can set things down. It requires us to learn holding isn’t inherently exhausting. It requires us to practice discernment in what we need to put down, what we can lift for other people, & who we can look to & ask, “hey, can you hold this for a sec?”
When we do this well, as I’ve witnessed Jasmin do, we build the strength to carry more for longer. We can offer more of ourselves because we have more of ourselves to give. Long term rest & slowness, like Jas’s sabbatical, brings us to fullness in a way that no other practice can teach us about sustainability. Our commitment to holding more in service of one another builds a movement that can hold us all for longer. It’s inspiring to see us all practice interdependence well enough to allow Jas to practice putting down all that she holds for others—to have some time to hold herself.
As lin shares, these practices can make us stronger & build a movement that holds us all for the long haul. We are certainly going to need that. As we fight what the next four years or more brings us—rising authoritarianism, heightened surveillance, mask bans, more attacks on trans people, renewed Islamophobic immigration bans, deportations, genocide, expansion of policing & cop cities, climate catastrophes, & more—we will have to commit even more to our practices of sustainability & care. We will make mistakes, experiment, & adapt our practices as conditions change, but we must keep practicing. We can always take a deep breath, pause, & listen to our bodies. We can turn towards each other, ask for help, & offer help. We can rest when we need to, invite others to rest. We can be in our power, & invite others to be in their power, too. I am recommitting to these practices. Will you join me?
