Equanimity – my word for 2026
The banner photo and the eagle photo, Vancouver, thanks to Rob. “A bit of sun while the clouds are reloading for the next round of torrential downpour.”
The prompt for today’s blog came from two people in the last two days.
Yesterday, I was discussing the nastiness of the world situation with my son-in-law, and he paused and asked, “What do you do to not fall into despair?”
He knows that I keep up to date on world affairs, but in very specific ways. For instance, I never watch TV news and I rarely watch common news interviews on my phone. I prefer to digest my intake of “news” through the written word, an interview with someone whose work and opinion I respect, or one on one with a friend or family member. I have noticed that in a group situation, even with people I love, it is easy, in this current climate, to cause or experience distress. One at a time works better for me.
What I really do, which helps me the most, is very ordinary. I focus most of my attention on everyday living, in the places where I reside and work. I remind myself of what is controllable by me and what is not and concentrate on what is in front of me. Simple things like these:
- Appreciate the opportunity to see my teenage grandkids most mornings. Maybe I get to make lunch or drive someone to school. Sometimes we chuckle over some silly thing. Once in a while we have a meaningful conversation about something important. Sometimes we just quietly do what needs doing – not much talking at all. The point is that this is a privilege to be alive and to be able to participate in their daily lives. I remind myself of that.
- I sit and enjoy my coffee – I get teased for not being able (or willing) to walk or drive and drink coffee. I like to be seated with my wonderful coffee in a mug. It is a ritual that I enjoy – steaming coffee and a favourite mug. If I am by myself, I also love to play my few games on NYT during that time and post them to a shared chat with family members. It’s fun. Plain and simple.
- Get outside – even in winter and even if it’s not for long, but being part of outdoor life makes a difference. Use my attention to notice beauty, people, and daydream a bit. If I have a day with no fresh air, I see the less-than-desirable effects.
- I cancelled my streaming services and instead look for interesting movies I can go watch every week or so. It gets me outside and into a theatre where it is dark, quiet, with other people, no phones, and it becomes a very different experience than watching on my devices. Foreign films, independent and smaller budget films are favourites of mine, and in Ottawa we have two old-fashioned theatres where you can enjoy this kind of outing. A different experience from a big box theatre. Hey, I also like some blockbusters, but I am pickier now about what I watch. I don’t want to leave the theatre scared to death, horror struck or disillusioned with human beings. There is enough of that in the news. I am looking for the beauty, courage, adventurousness, and fun of how humans take care of each other, take risks, handle adversity and help each other out during difficult times.
- And of course, there are so many other things to focus on – photography, doodling, keeping in touch, poetry, letting go of stuff, friends and family ALWAYS. I attempt to manage the tough stuff, distinguish between what’s controllable by me and what’s not, and to be a quiet encourager wherever I find myself.
In other words, I aspire to equanimity, and it is my word for the year. I hadn’t chosen the word until today, when I dropped into Emma Rooney’s Forest Bathing Studio. At one point we were asked to choose a word for the year, and I knew immediately the word I wanted to aspire to.
EQUANIMITY
“Equanimity is said to be an anchor. It protects you against the worldly winds” – pleasure and pain, praise and blame, gain and loss, and fame and disrepute – by keeping you anchored so you’re not tossed about by those winds.” — Daisy Hernandez
“Bittersweetness is not, as we tend to think, just a momentary feeling or event. It’s also a quiet force, a way of being…an authentic and elevating response to the problem of being alive in a deeply flawed yet stubbornly beautiful world.” — Susan Cain, author of Bittersweet
My favourite: “Equanimity is the capacity to be in touch with suffering and at the same time not be swept away by it.” — Roshi Joan Halifax
Reality
One of the things I appreciate about author and scholar Susan Cain is her acknowledgement of reality. For example: “No matter how much your culture tells you to smile, it’s not human to simply move on (when terrible things happen.) But that doesn’t mean that we can’t move forward.” Even though it may superficially appear to be contradictory, this reminds me of the work of poet, Nancy Gibbs Richards. She introduced me to the small steadying sail that is hoisted when the main sails are taken down in a dangerous storm. “The purpose of this small sail is not forward motion, but to keep the boat headed into the wind so that it will not capsize.”
A small steadying sail can be a metaphor for what keeps us from capsizing. Each of us is unique, for all that we have in common. Discovering our “sail,” most often something that absorbs us and others we can count on, can help keep us from capsizing in rough weather. And then we are also face-to-face or heart-to-heart with the goodness, the kindness, the help that accompanies tragedy. Even though we may be temporarily unable to steer the ship, we can rest in the assurance that we will not capsize.
There are some things that although they need to be accepted, will take a long time. Some things you never get over, but eventually you learn to live with.
The poet David Whyte describes it well:
“Anyone who has suffered real loss, the loss of a child, a marriage, a well-loved home, has always had difficulty conveying the absolute sense of devastation to those who are at present more fortunate. As if standing on fishes, Rilke described it, as if the ground had a life of its own and were swimming away underneath him. Many of us who take the solidity of the world for granted have had glimpses of what it would be like to have that ground taken away,” he writes.
I point this out because I think it is important to remember that if you or a loved one is diagnosed with a serious illness or there is an accident or death, this is not a problem to be solved. It goes way beyond that, and you will be standing on fishes until you can regain your equilibrium and figure out how to survive and flourish. And you will! And that is good.
Notes
- I have been reading more this past six months, and I am loving it. I may have mentioned this already, but for any of you who like Ann Patchett, her book of essays, These Precious Days, is excellent. I am listening to it, read by her, on Libby. Libby is a free app used by libraries for e-books, audiobooks, as well as many magazines. Patchett’s narration is perfect. I believe I am enjoying listening to her as much as the content.
- Thank you, dear readers, for your many gracious and kind notes to me. I hope I haven’t missed replying, but if that is so, please let me know. I treasure your emails and comments, but sometimes things slip through the cracks. I send my appreciation and best regards to all of you. With gratitude, Trudy
“Standing on fishes” such a perfect way to describe the wobbly feeling that happens when something happens to shake your personal universe.
Always something precious to take away from your blogs
Thank you
Thanks dear Judy. I too resonate with Rilke’s “standing on fishes.” It takes time to feel solid ground underneath our feet. And that’s where, as we know, the company of others is so reassuring. Warmly, Trudy
Trudy, a beacon of light in these dark, dark days. It is so easy to be swept into the depths of despair as our Anne of Green Gables would say. I, too, have stopped watching the news and I am trying to focus on what is around me, what matters, what I can do in my own space. Kindness, respect and decency toward my friends and strangers. Becoming a turtle in my home, head tucked in, listening to music or reading a book. The light will get in again and maybe we can rest easier. Thank you as always for your wisdom and words.
Thanks dear Pat. I have always appreciated what the Dalai Lama suggests when we are down and out – “find someone worse off than you and do something for them.” It seems counterintuitive yet the reports from the trenches are that it truly is helpful. And it can be so tiny; it isn’t about some grand gesture. Just so you know I find your notes and those of others to be very life enhancing. You reach out into the world and the world is a better place. Warmly, Trudy
Ah Trudy. Always thé provoking content. Bittersweet leads me to another sentiment I can embrace at times.
Melancholy
A melancholic feeling is a deep, thoughtful, and often prolonged sadness, a pensive gloom that’s more profound than simple unhappiness, involving quiet introspection, a sense of wistfulness, or a gentle sorrow without always having a clear cause, often evoked by music, weather, or memories. It’s characterized by a state of being “blue,” heavyhearted, or despondent, but can also inspire creativity, differing from clinical depression by being more reflective and potentially manageable.
I happen to sincerely appreciate the meaning of melancholy, dear Sandi. Thank you for posting about it here, and with such excellent descriptions. It is a misunderstood word, I think, in the west. Like you said, it is often associated with depression. If anything I tend to see an association with the inner life – the way the mystics, spoke of “the dark night of the soul,” which often happened before a significant insight. And also the poets. “A gentle sorrow without always having a clear cause…a wistful longing…inspire creativity…potentially manageable,” as you wrote. With gratitude, Trudy
A bit extra on melancholy
Thoughtful & Introspective: It encourages deep thinking, reflection, and pensiveness, a quiet mood rather than an active, frantic sadness.
Evocative: Can be brought on by art (music, poetry), weather (gray days), or solitude, creating a calm, somber atmosphere.
Wistful Longing: May involve feelings of emptiness, loneliness, or a gentle longing for something lost.
💕
Thanks as always Trudy for your inspiring offerings – equanimity (something I aspire to); the quote from David Whyte – the fishes AND the solid ground = equanimity; the image of a small steadying sail – for me, poetry and always the people whom I love and who love me too – such a gift. xoxoxo
Thanks Janice. Poetic imagery is so helpful to me and of course to you. Poetry is my steadying sail. Thanks to you I have lots to choose from. Warmly, Trudy
Such a wonderfully grounding post Trudy – thank you so much!
Thank you Allison. This is most thoughtful of you. Warmly, Trudy