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Last week, I wrote about the first thing I do when I am hit with uncertainty or a big change that brings the unknown. 

And then promptly after, a big unexpected change was thrown my direction.

My first move is to pause, to stop for a moment, and anchor down. (Check it out here.)

And then, last week, I got to practice in real-time. My husband got COVID the night before my parents were scheduled to come to town to help put on a birthday party for my kiddo. You would think by now I would be ready/used to “the Covid cancellation.” Well, I am not. It still sucks. The amount of times we’ve had to cancel family gatherings my kid (and all of us) were looking forward to – is a lot. And I get sad every single time.

I did, in fact, practice what I preached. Instead of figuring out what to do next (aside from canceling the party and the visits), I told Elino we would just lay around the next day and watch new movies, paint pictures, and make Legos. And that was precisely what we did. That was our version of Anchoring Down. We took care of ourselves (and left hot soup for Roberto outside the bedroom).

But you don’t want to stay on pause forever when uncertainty hits. It can be solace that turns into avoidance. I know this intimately, too.

However, depending on the change’s size, the pause might have to be a while.

So, what do you do after the pause?

My next move used to be to plan.

Haha – COVID took quite a bit of the planning out of me. (Even though I still work with folks on strategic planning!)

There is nothing wrong with planning. We need to check in with each other and know which direction we are moving. 

However, I have learned that after I slow down and before I build a plan (hopefully with others) there is something else I need to do.

Take a small action connected to my values.

This means I need to remember what my primary values are.

The slow down first is critical because it allows you to remember your values and check in with your body and heart.

When I slowed down last week with my kiddo, I remembered that my family’s joy and connection are top values for me, and my community’s well-being is a top value for me. Both are more important than a planned party. 

Then I found the small action—how do I support my kid in finding joy and connection in the unexpected while practicing caring for others?

My small action last week was – to find ways my kid can connect safely, and we can have fun. I took it day by day and focused on celebration. I also made room for feelings of disappointment and sadness.

(Going through uncertainty thoughtfully does not take away the emotions of anxiety, disappointment, anger, excitement, etc. It helps us navigate through them.)

This small action kicks me back into the realm of being a human who wants to engage in the world with other humans. It reminds me of my power.

When we are swirling in the uncertainty of what is coming next and overwhelmed by the suffering of our fellow humans, we can forget that what we do (and say) does make a difference – even if only in the communities around us and the work nearest. 

The third simple step I take is to be part of community. Don’t go through challenging changes alone. Let someone know what you are going through. Ask for support, listening, and maybe even other perspectives.

Last week, I reached out to my closest friend and let her know how I was feeling—and talked about things I was not sharing with my kiddo. I also opened us up to offers of support, and some of them happened naturally. School friends’ families offered to drop by and open presents outside. A neighbor provided soup for Rob. Our co-housing community hosted a small outdoor bonfire for him.

These three steps are my key to navigating overwhelming unknowns:

1. Pause & anchor down
2. Take one small action in alignment with your values
3. Reach out to others

Many of us living in the US are finding ourselves days before a very big unknown – the direction our county will take in leadership and what people will do after the election.

I am not shying away from how this makes me feel – nervous, anxious, hopeful, scared.

I am already practicing and will be practicing my three main actions in response. I will anchor down in practices that help my nervous system, take small actions aligned with my values, and be connected to people I love and to strangers I do not know.

May you find yourself cared for and connected in this time,

Annie

P.S. These same skills are critical inside of a thoughtful leadership practice!
P.P.S. Grab this guide for steps to decrease overwhelm in moments of constant change.

What supports you in moving forward when the path in front of you is obscured or unclear? How have you made it through moments of unknown and uncertainty in your life?

These are the questions I am sitting with (again) at this moment in my life.

As someone living in the United States, I am again faced with the unknown of an election, which will have significant repercussions. No one really knows how it will go. Even after the votes come in, there is a lot of speculation about what will happen next.

As a human living in this world, I am sitting with the deep desire for things to be different than they are. 
(And this is likely how most humans have felt throughout history.) 

I want there to be less pain and suffering. I am especially sitting with a clenched heart when I continue to see the images and horror coming out of the war in Gaza. I am desperate for the reality of the Palestinian people to be different now and in the future. I want the war to stop, not spread. And yet, peace feels out of reach.

As I wait for the next news to drop about a natural disaster, I think about the well-being of all the people I know in the place and all of the people I do not know.

I can be carried out to sea when I consider the scope of human suffering. 

My mind can go to places that say there is nothing to be done to help and that I should deny myself joy when the suffering is so great.

I know that is a very dangerous story.

It prevents me from joining the wave of humans throughout history who have not given up and have pushed the long arc of justice forward.

And it stops me from living out my full humanity in this one lifetime.

So what to do instead?

I have to anchor down first.

For me, anchoring down means:

• slowing down enough to be in touch with my own being, body, and breath, 
• knowing my core values at this time and remembering what is important to me, 
• connecting to my larger purposes, 
• tuning into the longer timeline of the planet, 
• and connecting into appreciation.

I have a set of practices that help me do this. 

However, there are various ways to do this – from traditions and rituals across the globe.

The primary ingredients are to slow down, reflect, connect with your breath, and other humans outside of tasks, and connect with other forms of life (plants, animals).

If you are lost in the woods, you are not supposed to run. 

Your first move is to stop and get your bearings. The next move might even be to stay still.

When the world swirls around me, and I am overwhelmed by the unknowns and possible catastrophes, I have learned that slowing down and dropping my anchor always needs to come first.

This is the only way I can then turn out and support others.

Your turn – what is the simplest way you can drop an anchor and slow down?

How can you add a moment of pause and connection into your day today?

Of course, slowing down and connecting internally and externally is not the only thing we need to do in times of uncertainty. If we stay in the pause, we can get stuck. We need support, actions, and maybe even a plan.

Stay tuned for my next note where I will dive deeper into what I do after I slow down.