I use the term “capacity” all the time. Everyone in my trauma informed world does. But what does it mean to me when I say it? I’m not 100% sure - so let’s do another round of Virgo-ness!
When I say it, I’m focusing in on listening to my body first: Where does the center of gravity settle in my body? Does it even exist in that moment? How fast or slow is my energy going? What needs are unmet that my body is signaling to? What needs are met? Is there tension? Is there flow?
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Every minute, every hour, my capacity can fluctuate.
SO MANY THINGS go into my general sense of capacity. Here’s another hundred questions: Where am I in my grief? How did I sleep? How connected am I to the collective? Who’s gravitational pull am I self-un-consensually drawn to? Where I am I in my cycle? How is my inter-personal life? How much am I processing from social media? What kind of comments am I getting? How is my work load? What’s my relationship with creativity? Am I creating? And is it from a place of regeneration?
As I’m reflecting right now about my capacity, what’s coming up is how precious my attention and energy is. Maybe it’s controlling, but I want to decide where my emotional/mental/spiritual energy goes. There’s so little in life that deserves my energy. F**k capitalism. During this collective shift and unveiling of truth, it’s even more obvious what actually matters. It’s liberation. Our liberation.
More questions, so how do I honor my capacity under these systems of oppression? How do I honor my community members’ capacity well?
Another part is my desire to open up capacity in my heart and mind. I’ve lived so much of my life braced for the worst and being so rarely tender. Slowly, I’ve been healing so that I can feel and be open to hurt as well as joy. And HOPE! Don’t forget about hope - that’s the whole premise of Liberatory Imagination!
Today, I can feel this shift that feels what an honor it is to be alive in this moment.
What an honor to witness such truth in suffering. What an honor it is to be able to use my voice and echo the messages of liberation from the community. What an honor it is to be able to march the streets yelling for a Free Palestine and be able to go home and sleep. What an honor to spend my energy about imagining a new world. What an honor it is to use my capacity for scheming ways to disrupt the status quo. What an honor. What an honor.
To feel that is to feel my capacity expanding from a few days ago. I know that I might not feel like this for…who knows how long it will last, but I know the edges are slightly farther. It’s farther towards the basic good stuff: hope and love.
What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?
It looks like a pond that ebbs and flows from a single point. And that point is right behind my sternum. As I breathe the pond expands and contract. Sometimes the farthest point is near the center. Other times, it’s far away. And as I grow older, the pond grows bigger. The edges also become thinner and softer.
(photo below: my cat guest this morning)
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