From Henry V (Act 4, Scene 1)

by William Shakespeare

Upon the king! Let us our lives, our souls, our debts,
our careful wives, our children, and our sins lay on the king!
We must bear all. O hard condition,
Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath
Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel
But his own wringing. What infinite heart’s ease
Must kings neglect that private men enjoy?
And what have kings that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?

Honor Our Impact

Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heavier still the heart of those who set theirs down.

To create a setting for the relational arts, a shared set of agreements are often invoked.  At events for The Container (info on those at the bottom of the email), we make the agreements as we walk the ceremonial circle. We stop at the four cardinal directions, considering the energy that flows from each doorway.

In the north, we agree to honor our impact. We do that in connection to the cold north wind and the dim light of winter. (For our friends in the southern hemisphere, you'll forgive our chauvinism.)

Why do we do this?

What is it about honoring our impact that is so transformative?

The practice of honoring our impact is not about walking on eggshells. It isn't about obsessing over how an innocuous word could trigger someone else's trauma. I think honoring our impact is, instead, about coming into full appreciation of our own power and our own role in the relational field.

We have so many reasons to arrive on the shores of adulthood with attitudes about ourselves that diminish the appreciation we have for our own power. 

• “There’s no way I could be important.”

• “There’s no way others are thinking about me.”

• “There’s no way I make a real difference.”

Many of us make the claim that we simply aren't powerful enough to make an impact. And as tragic as this may seem, as wounded and hurting as we surely are to make such a statement about ourselves, there is also something surreptitious afoot.

By setting aside our power, we set aside our responsibility. By doing that, we clear the way for our shadows to do whatever it is they want to do to others. And maybe, on a certain level, setting aside responsibility dooms ourselves and each other.

When we don't take responsibility for our power, we do not attend to the waves we are making. And we submit our ability to create the spaces we want to be a part of. This all happens because we've abdicated the throne.

Upon the King!

Our culture has come to sympathize with those who feel shame or humiliation. And so, we’ve come to sympathize with the parts of ourselves that are shamed or humiliated, that feel small.

Such sensitivity can lead to great self-nurturing. Rather than interrogating ourselves, we feel that smallness, and that might even provoke love for our inner child. This is, of course, a wonderful thing to do.

But in all that loving and caring, do we ever discover the full dynamic this wound has matured into? Do we ever piece together how exactly we got here and why we remain here?

And what about the parts of ourselves that are powerful? Why is it so easy to dismiss them?

A purely sympathetic view might say that we developed this belief in our powerlessness when someone, somewhere along the line, wronged us, oppressed us, and we were left with this incorrect view that we couldn't have any impact in the space.

Big bad oppressor. Innocent little us.

This might be a true story. But even then, it isn’t the full story.

Because as this attitude unfolds over time, it begins to offer us certain benefits—and these keep making such a view of ourselves more and more certain.

If we look a little deeper, we might notice that this strategy allows us to let go of any responsibility. We do not have to steward a space that we have no power in. We do not have to care for those who don’t even think about us.

We might even notice that there are times this leans over into something else. We find ourselves making insulting comments under our breath. We find ourselves making conjectures and sharing them with others, spreading narratives from a place very far from loving kindness.

After all, the people we are talking about are so powerful and so important to the space. Meanwhile, we are so small and unimportant. So, what’s the harm?

(In fact, doesn’t it become quite easy, even strangely justified, to attack the powerful in this condition? But while there is a long and honorable tradition of protest and speaking truth to power, there are often other things going on. When we feel the urge to place the burden of responsibility on someone else, we have a chance to see if we’ve elided our own responsibility. If we buy into narratives of our powerlessness, we get to point and complain of those who’ve taken ownership of theirs. This is, in truth, an adolescent dynamic.)

By framing ourselves as powerless, we get to carry out acts of all kinds without concern. And it is through the portal that all kinds of shadows escape out into the world.

In this way, a sympathetic response to our narratives of powerlessness can become covert ways of getting what we want through indirect means. Consider a common wound around powerlessness that tells us, "I'm not allowed to take up space."

Whoever installed this in our minds the first time may have done us wrong, but over time, even this reveals its own hidden benefits, including:

• We never speak up, so we never risk being wrong.

• We avoid conflict entirely.

• We never have to own our true feelings.

• We can defer to others' desires and blame them for any negative consequences.

But the north, it’s piercing wind. It awakens something in us.

Reclamation

When we commit to the practice of honoring our impact, we have to start recollecting our influences on the relational field. We have to start taking responsibility for them, and this journey allows us to start asking ourselves hard questions.

This is merely the first step, not the destination. It makes the work possible but isn't the work itself.

When we stand in the north, thinking about the sun's retreat and the coming winter days, we must remember the coldness we bring within ourselves. The dark and bitter nights that await us all aren't just challenges—they're calls to responsibility. With that responsibility comes real power: the power to build shelter, to make fire, to bring light to the longest nights.

This begins to build a bridge from our personal work of honoring impact in personal spaces to larger concerns, concerns many people feel on much larger levels in the face of political defeat.

As we look toward our own collective winter—whether literal or metaphorical—we must consider the responsibilities we might take on at a greater level.

Take climate change as an example. Anyone worried about this lately? Does it seem rather hopeless when people come to power who deny its existence?

For years, many of us have considered climate change beyond our control, clearly the crime of actors working on scales orders of magnitude larger than our own. We live through waves of anxiety (that usually come with news stories of temperatures passing yet another record), yet we rarely think twice about hopping into our cars, buying plane tickets, or leaving the lights on.

We abdicate responsibility because we're "just one person" and not the CEO of ExxonMobil. We tell ourselves our individual actions won't make a difference on their own. While that's technically true, it misses the larger point: creating a world where people are protected, where future generations can thrive, where coral reefs flourish, and where temperatures stabilize.

Are you truly powerless in this? Are you free from all responsibility?

Maybe, maybe not. But when we rely on others to take responsibility, we lose all power. If you're feeling powerless right now, especially in light of changes at the tops of governments around the world, examine all the ways you're throwing your power away. How can you reclaim it?

As members of our communities—not just as subjects but as active participants—we must ask ourselves:

• How can we provide food for the hungry?

• How can we create shelter for the homeless?

• How can we offer a safe refuge for those fleeing their home countries?

• How can we ensure healthcare access for all?

• How can we protect the natural endowment we're responsible for stewarding?

We cannot address these challenges if we simply say it's someone else's job, dismissing our own agency with a shrug. The path forward requires us to reclaim our power. And that begins by honoring our impact.

Upcoming Events

November 23 (Saturday) | MeetUp Link

• Where: JMRL Central Library

• 201 E Market St, Charlottesville, VA 22902

• Swanson Room | Large Room on 3rd Floor

• When: 1-4 pm

• Cover: Free

​November 26 (Tuesday) | MeetUp Link

• Where: NOW Yoga

• 614 Forest St, Charlottesville, VA 22903 

• When: 6-9 pm

• Cover: $20​

December 10 (Tuesday)

• Where: NOW Yoga

• 614 Forest St, Charlottesville, VA 22903 

• When: 6-9 pm

• Cover: $20

December 21 (Saturday)

• Where: JMRL Central Library

• 201 E Market St, Charlottesville, VA 22902

• Swanson Room | Large Room on 3rd Floor

• When: 1-4 pm

• Cover: Free