From Observer to Actor
Discerning where you go from here in tumultuous times
Aloha, welcome or welcome back to They Keep Telling Me I Should Write My Memoir
My months-ago-written and not entirely forgotten outline of upcoming essays had me following my May and June essays on the importance of developing our “internal observer” with an essay titled “From Observer to Actor.” Three months later, many essays and digressions later, itʻs time to come back to that thought.
Let me take a step back to explain, in case I never really did, that the importance of cultivating a careful and neutral observer that can see clearly, an observer that can let go of assumptions and conclusions and come back to fresh observation, is for me a critical part of being a responsible human. It is a critical foundation for navigating through personal transitions as well as through the inevitable and revolutionary changes in the world that surrounds us.
The importance of recognizing the observer we are is a theme throughout this Substack memoir. I learned this from my parents, and from those two favorite childhood books of mine1, A Wrinkle in Time and Four Ways of Being Human.
Think about the characters in A Wrinkle in Time. The parents are scientists - professional observers, so to speak. The children are drawn into an adventure by fantastic, supernatural beings. They have to rely on a combination of logic, intuition, and the certainty of love and genuine belonging, to rescue their father and indeed their world.
There is a minor character in the story called The Happy Medium, a woman stuck on a colorless (to me that means “neutral”) planet, capable of observing everything transpiring in the Universe. The message that stuck with me was that she could not turn away from observing The Darkness shadowing the Earth. Much as she wanted to show the children only the good and happy things, she could not shelter them from the reality of the danger their father and their world were facing.
The childrenʻs guide Mrs Which says in this scene:
The Medium lost the delighted smile she had worn till then. "Oh, why must you make me look at unpleasant things when there are so many delightful ones to see?"
Again Mrs. Which's voice reverberated through the cave. "Therre will nno llonggerr bee sso many pplleasanntt thinggss too llookk att iff rressponssible ppeoplle ddo nnott ddoo ssomethingg abboutt thee unnppleasanntt oness."
I often long to be that Happy Medium, my only job being to sit in a cave, seeing all and knowing all, holding space for all. My well-developed observer is my internalization of that archetype. My destiny, however, is to be one of those people who take responsibility, to be in action as a Warrior of the Light. 2 And I hope yours is also if you are reading this.
How and when do we responsibly move from the Happy Medium, the pure observer required to look at everything just as it is, to the Warrior in action, actually doing something? Each of us will play a different part. Each of us has a different calling3. We are required to be an observer of both the outside world, and also of ourselves.
As we choose what to observe and how to design our action, I am very clear that The Happy Medium was not wrong in focusing on what is right, on where there is hope, on what makes our face and heart and soul light up. When we focus on whatʻs wrong, our energy diminishes. We add negative energy to the pile of resentment. Or we give in to resignation. On the other hand, when we focus on taking care of what we care about, our energy grows. I have a tendency to jump into action; creating a stronger observer has helped me develop patience to assess, build allies and capacity, incorporate the perspectives and strengths of others into my commitments to action. When I move, I move with the energy of the team, the pounding hooves of my herd galloping beside me.
I love the portrayal of the young Kamehameha I in the AppleTV series Chief of War.4 In my experience, the finest leaders are not focused on being leaders; they are never building their power for the sake of power. They are focused on taking care of what they care about - but what they care about is collective well-being rather than personal achievement. That type of leader builds power to take care, rather than power to take control. Theirs is a commitment that is inclusive, not exclusive. When Kaʻiana finds Kamehameha tending to his loʻi kalo, his taro patch, the future king is literally grounding himself. He is stewarding ʻāina5 - translated as that which feeds. Metaphorically, in the storytelling sense, he is showing his commitment to caring for his larger community and its future, placing himself as a leader in the context of a net of relationships and responsibilities. Heʻs feeding others, not feeding his own ego.
There are many reasons I began this memoir, and memoir-in-essay, most of them unknown to me at the time. What I can see clearly as the fresh observer the past months have required me to be, is that my core commitments and competencies are the foundation for the actions I am called to take now. Perhaps if you are feeling called to action and donʻt know where to begin, a good place to start would be to look to your past, to feel things to your core, to retreat to whatever is the equivalent of your loʻi kalo, and nourish yourself and your family and community. Prepare to stand unblinking and ready to act when the path reveals itself to you.
Events are accelerating at the speed of a hurtling papa hōlua. And elsewhere, literally and figuratively, someone is burning the storehouse so they can “win” by destroying resources needed for people to thrive.
Dare to imagine the abundant, loving future for which you are prepared to stand.
Next week I will write more about declaring commitments and designing actions.
If you are not one of the seven readers I had at the beginning, please read this early essay before reading on: What Happened Before What Happens Happens. It sets the stage for my sequential memoir, and really for everything I write here.
Another critical episode in this memoir, one that marked a turning point in my life that eventually results in me leaving my Wall Street career and going on a spiritual journey is told here: The Valkyries.
A long post about finding your calling or personal legend.
More explanation of the word ʻāina in this post.