Since Donald Trump’s inauguration, we have been experiencing a time of growing instability. The duly elected president, whose party also controls the House, Senate, and Supreme Court, has opted to govern by fiat instead of through democratic processes. Trump has appointed the world’s richest man to uncover “fraud, waste, and abuse in government” while illegally sifting through confidential records and intimidating agencies that have dared to scrutinize his business empire. Republicans in Congress either cower in fear or eagerly bow before their dictator. The Democrats, lacking access to any lever of government power, find themselves demonstrating outside agencies as the unelected Elon Musk and his young followers dismantle them from within. Some media and many elites are displaying a shameful willingness to comply. If not for the courts, independent media, and brave citizens, there would be no resistance to what amounts to a coup d’etat. How can one maintain a mindfulness practice under circumstances like these?
First, we must avoid three forms of capitulation: denial, despair, and apathy. Denial is the most primitive defense mechanism, and we can see it manifested in today’s Republican Party. If I don’t acknowledge this is a problem, there isn’t one, right? If I ignore what is happening or disregard how I feel about the consequences of Trump’s actions, I won’t need to become concerned. I will keep my head down and mind my business, and everything will be fine—no need to worry; nothing to see here. Sadly, denial does not work. We can’t deny reality forever. Denial can lead to apathy, which appears as a lack of concern about matters of grave concern, even our well-being. When we embrace apathy, we lie down and accept whatever comes, convincing ourselves that it doesn’t matter. The danger of apathy is that we risk losing touch with what matters most: our values and relationships. Apathy represents a form of learned helplessness.
For those who are not in denial but are instead paying attention, the real risk is despair. Despair signifies giving up, shutting down, and becoming inactive. It leads to diminished motivation, reduced self-efficacy, cynicism, and depression. When we succumb to despair, we abandon the belief that anything can improve our lives or our world.
Suppose we decide not to capitulate but engage with the crisis at hand. Suppose we inform ourselves, communicate with others about what we see, hear, and feel, and take steps to resist what and where we can. That is where the real work of mindfulness begins. First, we must take great care to remember these essential mindfulness principles: 1) see reality as it is, 2) use skillful means, and 3) access inner wisdom, also known as Wise Mind. Let’s break each of these down.
Seeing reality as it is means recognizing that what is happening in the political world is not the complete reality. Even when Trump goes against some deeply held principles, each moment presents an opportunity for clarity and awareness. When we connect with our breath and the consciousness of being alive, we recharge and reset our delicate nervous systems to a truth that has been our constant companion since birth: we are alive in this moment. We are more than our minds, more than our thoughts, more than the sum of our achievements, and more than our failures. We are living, breathing forces of nature. From this perspective, we can face the world.
Once we see reality as it is, we have a choice about how to proceed. However we choose to act, mindfulness encourages us to be skillful. The expression "use skillful means" comes from Zen and reminds us to find effective ways to reach our objectives and goals. One approach that works for me is to seek the middle path. As I engage with the full catastrophe of what is happening, I must strive for balance. I cannot read every item in my inbox or every article in the press. I cannot donate to every cause or call my congressperson every day. But I can read a few key sources, contribute to some causes, and call my congressperson at least once a week. For me, the middle path means speaking with people respectfully but also clearly about my feelings concerning the demonization of trans people, the cruelty toward immigrants, and the erosion of our democracy. If they disagree, that’s okay. But I refuse to remain silent unless and until I am forced to do so. And to know when to avoid confrontation, I must access my Wise Mind.
Every day, I use a practice I learned from the Stoics and my Catholic upbringing. Marcus Aurelius recommended that each morning, we consider our behavior from the previous day and evaluate how well we did according to our values. We think, gently and nonjudgmentally, how we might have done better. Then, we look ahead to the day coming and mindfully plan to apply what we have learned. As a Catholic child, I was encouraged, before going to confession, to make “an examination of conscience.” That meant to look within and see where I might have “sinned.” While I no longer hold a black-and-white concept of sin, I am grateful I was encouraged as a young child to look within. Looking within is the first step toward finding our inner wisdom.
To preserve my sanity, contentment, and peace during what promises to be a tumultuous time, I must stay in constant contact with my inner wisdom, which will guide me on when to resist and when to back off. If I listen carefully, my inner wisdom will indicate when I need to engage fully and when I need to prioritize self-care. I may not always get it right, but I refuse to fall into denial, apathy, and despair. Should I be fortunate enough to live four more years, I don’t want them to be marked by numbness, fear, and oblivion when I can focus on making them years of compassion, gratitude, and courage.
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