My guiding philosophical principles: We have four circles around us in which to find (or from which to escape to find) tranquility, peace, serenity, and solace: Self, center, contacts, and community.
Self
Our basic commitments are sourced from several religions/philosophies/ideas or whatever you want to call them. That is the definition of “syncretic:” Uniting different systems for better lives. The first commitment you make from a syncretic perspective is to yourself. You won’t last long in life if you don’t take care of yourself. Regular doctor visits. Vacations. Rejecting self-imposed limitations, deadlines, and expectations. Doing what is right, necessary, and moral—not because you will be “rewarded in an afterlife,” but because it is the right thing to do for yourself. Don’t confuse this with selfishness; selfishness is poisonous, turbulent, and unsatisfying. You’re not “looking out for #1.” You’re taking care of #1 and there IS a difference between the two. The different systems of thought we borrow from all stress this difference.
Circle
The second commitment you should make is to those in your close circle of friends, family, and neighbors. Take care of them. Family is a way to describe your circle; some of us lost our families to death or just plain estrangement, but we still have very close friends who know us better than our genetic siblings. These are often thought of as our true family. Some genetic families are able to sustain close ties through generations, but for many of us, that’s just not possible. Being gay has meant much alienation from my own family; my husband only has a sister who is still alive, so his genetic family is simply gone. We and our close friends, both his and mine, are family. I call a few of mine “brothers from other mothers.” We are close and in closer touch than with my genetic sisters. But it’s not ALL perfect; relationships have to be maintained. And it’s often hard work, and I often fall very short in caring for them. Never ABOUT them, but sometimes knowing what care is needed or wanted. That’s difficult.
Contacts
This is perhaps the hardest, at least for me. I see things that people, even my students, do every day that is often hard to take. I just want to tell them off. And sometimes I slip and do. Sometimes, especially with kids in my care, I have to get loud and demanding, set tough expectations, and put up clear guardrails. I don’t like doing that. Like my father, I’d rather just be easy-going, and never have to get loud and obnoxious. But often, that’s not actually caring for my students. I’m doing them no favors by cleaning up after them, ignoring playground tiffs, overlooking trash on the floor, or allowing extra recess even though they’ve been little monsters. That isn’t very caring, actually. My job is to also educate them to be decent, caring people themselves. And it’s true about people we meet during the day. Often, I just want them to get out of my way, or leave me alone. One of my worst vices is not cultivating patience behind the wheel. I’m working on it. Another is trying to hit the difference between standing up for myself and tearing into them unproductively. That’s a fine line, but working on it requires care from a serene mind
Community
Your community includes neighborhood, city/town, state, country, and world. This is also difficult to be serene about. The world is not a peaceful place. There is serenity there, but it’s hard to find. Tranquility Base remains on the Moon. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. I do care for how my house looks because I care for my neighborhood. I do care for my neighborhood and how it reflects on my city. I care about the city being the best in the state. My state is very, very difficult to love. It’s beautiful, but a hardness, and harshness remain here from the days of its colonization and the resulting genocide of its indigenous nations. White people stubbornly perpetuate both cruelty and unnecessary levels of difficulty in their lives. That my state and my nation are like this is horrifying in regards to the past and destructive of what could be a better future. And yet, borrowing/paraphrasing another good phrase: “Still we rise.” Still, I vote. Still, I pick up trash. Still, I educate kids in my city. Still, I learn and grow and work on cultivating better things in our communities.
