YES . . .
we made up a word this week. (Though a quick internet search reveals that we are, of course, not the first or only ones, and that Jason S.C. Fung's book looks pretty awesome.)
In our minds, the bothness is that sometimes ugly, often uncomfortable place where we sit with the realities of the world: that it is both spectacular and cruel. Infuriating and invigorating. That in spite of the intensity of grief, we go on getting through each day. That the bland happens more often than the bold. That whatever we make - produce, create, ponder, or otherwise put energy toward - is not enough, will never be quite enough, but we also can't go on without continuing to make it.
The bothness is a place of awareness that can feel like giving up, because we are not taking Action! (Insert your head photoshopped on your choice of superhero's body here.) Or we are not taking the 'right' action. Or our action wasn't accepted, perceived, or received as intended. The bothness is sitting with feedback from others and letting it be. Not talking back, explaining, justifying, arguing. Just sitting.
When we inhabit the bothness, we tend to want out. It feels like a trap. It's gooey and itchy and hot. Inhabiting the bothness is a chore. Only by inhabiting it with continual practice, returning and renewing our commitment to digging down to the root of things, do we begin to see the gift of the bothness.
It's not necessarily a break, though it can be renewing. It's not necessarily rest, though it can be healing. The bothness is not an excuse not to act, but a process of centering on our values that allows us to act from those values, rather than react to the overwhelm. This is the power of the bothness.
In community,
Tay + Dor
photo by William Trevaskis for GFJ Stories
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