The month of November was one that many will remember as a rollercoaster of events. In the midst of sorting out the BC election, the contentious US election unfolded, and on November 4th, the devastating passing of Murray Sinclair left so many of us reeling. By the time our November Community Call approached on the 6th, I felt emotionally raw.
The morning before the call, my friend George checked in on me. When he asked how I was doing, I admitted I felt fragmented—scattered by everything happening around me. George, in his steady and thoughtful way, gently reminded me of the importance of my role in our community and the need to be intentional about the energy I brought to it. His words prompted me to spend the day reflecting and processing my feelings. I wrote in my journal, released the emotions I needed to let go of, lit a candle, and prepared myself to join our Community for our monthly gathering.
When the call began, it was clear I wasn’t alone in my grief. As friends joined and shared during introductions, the weight of the week’s events was palpable. There were expressions of sadness, shock, and exhaustion. Sensing this, George told us he had a story to share, one that he thought might help us navigate the collective heaviness we were feeling.
“My mother taught me a lesson in my late teens that has stayed with me ever since," George began. "I had just gotten my first car, an old Mustang, and within a year, it started having problems. One day, the alternator broke, and I was furious. I stormed into my room and started yelling and venting, frustrated about how much it was going to cost—money I didn’t have—to tow it, buy the parts, and pay for repairs. My mom let me go on for a while, and then she came into my room and calmly asked, ‘Are you done now?’
"I apologized, feeling embarrassed, and said, ‘Yeah, I’m done.’ Then she asked, ‘Why are you so mad?’ I explained everything—the car, the costs, how unfair it felt. She listened quietly and then asked, ‘Did all that yelling and screaming fix your car?’ I had to admit that it hadn’t.
"She nodded and said, ‘It’s okay to feel angry or frustrated—that’s normal. But you have to think about what comes next. What are you going to do about it now?’ Then she added something that’s stayed with me ever since: ‘You also need to think about how your feelings and actions affect others. Your yelling and screaming—it didn’t fix your car, but it did alarm the people around you. It had an impact, even if you didn’t mean it to.’
"She went on, ‘In life, we’re going to face things that hurt us, upset us, or feel deeply unfair. And it’s okay to feel those emotions. But after you’ve let them out, the real question is, what are you going to do after? How are you going to move forward?’
"That conversation taught me about accountability—not just for my actions but for my emotions and how they affect others. It’s a lesson I’ve carried with me ever since, especially when facing challenges in my life or the world around me."
As George finished sharing, his mother’s wisdom settled over the group like a balm. It was a reminder that while our grief, anger, and frustration are valid, they aren’t the end of the story. They’re the beginning of what comes next.
Inspired by George's story, I reflected on my own role in our Community and the energy I was bringing. I realized that even when I feel fragmented or heavy, I can still show up with care and intention. I can take steps forward, however small, to help create space for others to process, heal, and move forward too. That day, our Community reminded me once again of the importance of holding space for one another, even in our hardest moments. Together, we move forward.
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