To practice discernment

during the end of an empire + an unreleased poem that didn't make it into the book

I have so many thoughts to share— as I always do 🥹— about Chicago, about speaking at Deem’s Symposium at the Museum of Contemporary Art, how being there changed me, how I’m back in NYC even more inspired, how I’m panicking a bit at sinking back into my day to day rhythm of being severely depressed and underfunded, how I want to integrate this change into my life so that I can move forward with more conviction…

But for now, I’m thinking about discernment as an important practice in these times. It’s not an exaggeration to say that we’re witnessing the fall of an empire, the end of times. We’re building new worlds, in the thick of designing a new reality.

A healer I worked with a few years ago introduced me to the language of discernment. I was asking her how I can heal the judgement within me, how I can protect myself without shutting myself off. She told me there’s a difference between judgement and discernment. Judgement is deciding that someone is a good or bad person, putting a moral label on someone. I don’t think this behavior is inherently bad, I think it’s something that we do in attempt to protect ourselves and maintain our world view. Discernment is deciding to distance from someone because their values and way of living doesn’t align with yours. Discernment can happen without judgement. This was huge for me, and something I’m still trying to grasp my mind around.

There’s been a lot of discernment I’ve had to make these past few years, as we’ve been navigating a polycrisis and ongoing pandemic, as I’ve deepened my beliefs about solidarity and care, as my online “platform” (I don’t like this word, will think of a replacement) has grown, as I’ve been forced to reckon with the truth that not everyone has your best interests in mind and not everyone is actually practicing and living what they posture to believe.

I’m sure I’m not perfect in this either. None of us are in perfect alignment with our values— and perfection isn’t the goal. I think it’s about honesty, not perfection. It’s about the effort, the trying, the commitment. The lifelong commitment to collective liberation as a vision we move toward, being honest about learning and growing, being honest about the gaps between where we are and where we want to be, and lovingly guiding ourselves toward the change we’re being called to cultivate.

The saying and posturing vs. living and doing discernment has become so pronounced over the past 7-8 months especially, and I feel so dizzy trying to discern insincerity from sincerity. I think about this a lot especially as an auDHD person, who functions on a baseline default of honesty. I have to remind myself this is okay, especially in a world that rewards deception and encourages dishonesty. I also think sometimes insincerity comes out of us when we’re not feeling safe to be ourselves, so there’s nuance in all this.

I don’t have a pretty bow to end this with nor do I have tips or advice. I just want to open this portal of thought in you, if you’d like to journey with me, through this practice of discernment.

I want to do this by sharing a poem from an earlier version of THIS WAY TO CHANGE that didn’t make it into the final manuscript. I ended up cutting lots of poems to add in more prose and practices, so I might share more. This one I wrote while thinking about people I’ve met in movement spaces and organizing spheres who…left me with this itchy feeling of suspicion. Do you ever feel that way about someone? They’re saying all the “right” things, they’re friends with all the “right” people but…something feels off. And then later you learn information that confirms your suspicions but before that confirmation, you’re afraid to say anything because they’ve purposefully crafted a reputation that makes them hard to criticize.

The thing is…my hyperempathy makes it so that I spin myself in circles considering every possible circumstance and I’m always wondering “what if I’m this person to someone?” Everything I see in someone else, I’m able to see because it might exist within me somewhere. I decided not to put this poem in this book because I didn’t want to encourage disposability and I think this topic needs more context and nuance to really be explored.

So I’m leaving it here with you with a few questions that I’m thinking about:

• What does discernment look like when practiced through the lens of detachment and loving kindness?

• How can I shift the focus from trying to criticize someone else’s behavior and way of living into a focus on my own motives and actions? Am I clear about what drives my actions? Am I clear about my intentions and where/how they live in my body?

• Am I moving from a place of fear and scarcity, or a place of enthusiasm and expansion?

• When is the last time discernment called to you— how quiet or loud was it? How did you know it was speaking? What is one thing you can say or do with yourself the next time you feel this pull to listen to the subtle cues coming at you?

• What is one way you can give yourself permission to listen to the no in your body and how can you practice voicing it? Where and when do you feel safest to express a “no”?

I guess I’m also thinking about all the people who have offered support these past few months during this book release. While I’m thankful, I get the sense that some people don’t really want to support me, they might just want proximity to me. Or they might want to support for their own sake, to feel good about being seen as someone helpful or supportive. One of the phrases that makes my skin crawl is “let me know if you need anything” because I have NO idea what that means— what is it that someone has interest or capacity to offer? Do they know how much help I need on a daily basis as a multiply disabled and neurodivergent person? How do I communicate that it feels unkind to make unspecific, blanket offers? Do they plan to follow through, do they understand the heartache I feel if they’re setting me up for disappointment? Do they understand how much it takes to ask for help, the labor this question puts on me, that I don’t know how to decipher what they mean? Is specificity a lot to ask for?

I’ve been really trying to check myself, and not offer support unless I truly have capacity for it. But it’s hard because this is like a collective impulse, it’s so culturally engrained to say things we don’t mean just because we’re supposed to look like caring, helpful people (especially if we’re in any sort of movement work). I’ve been checking myself when I feel the urge to opt into performative scripts and instead say what I mean, only when I really mean it. This feels more generative.

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That’s all for now!

I’ll leave you with a few announcements:

• Thank you to those of you who have been upgrading your subscription! I really appreciate the financial support to keep doing what I do, I’m trying to find more sustainable revenue models and Instagram is shadowbanning the hell out of me lately so I hope people see my important announcements on here if they don’t see it on IG. If you feel compelled to upgrade your subscription, I invite you to do so as it really does create positive momentum for me!

• Please help me spread the word to queer neurodivergent creative cuties in Seattle, Washington— I’ll be at Charlie’s Queer Books on Thursday, May 30 at 7pm for a conversation with fellow poet Yanyi and will probably guide a collective dreaming exercise. RSVP at bit.ly/thiswaytoseattle

• Please help me spread the word to queer neurodivergent creative cuties in upstate New York as I’ll be in Accord at Harana Market on Saturday, June 1 at 5:30pm where we will EAT DELICIOUS FILIPINX FOOD courtesy of one of my favorite chefs ever + it will be a nourishing evening communing around the topics of hope, healing, and solidarity. RSVP at bit.ly/thiswaytoharana