As a life coach, I help people who are stuck in problems that feel impossible for them to solve.  If people don’t like their jobs, or that they’re aging, or if they’ve lost their love, I can help them deal with it, fix it up and create a better life.  For this reason, it’s challenging for me to admit how deeply I’ve been affected by the oil spill in the gulf.

I’ve been obsessed with it for weeks now.  I have hardly been able to tear myself away from my computer – checking for updates every few minutes, seeking knowledge about why this was allowed to happen, and trying to understand what the short and long-term consequences are for the Gulf Coast, and for all of us. 

My perception of this disaster is that it is on the same magnitude as September 11th.  Although there is an absence of the startling, dramatic imagery and there have been fewer human lives lost, this catastrophe will shape the way we move forward in a similar way that our lives were changed after September 11th.   What I find much more disturbing is that this catastrophe was caused by the establishment rather than by renegades. I am also saddened that I don’t see the same rallying together as a country with shared vision as we did after the destruction of the World Trade Center.

I’ve continued to write as I’ve watched this disaster unfold, developing the materials for the new self-mastery course I’m offering, even though I’ve had to force myself to do it.   Finally, now, in an act of pure authenticity, I stopped writing about human potential and started writing about my feelings about this oil spill. 

It is hard for me to admit that here is something I am having such difficulty dealing with.  It is even more difficult to figure out realistically what I can do about this spill.  I think of the Serenity Prayer: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference”.   Here I feel devoid of the wisdom to know what I can changes I can make.

As this disaster is clearly something we brought on ourselves, I am so very disappointed at how various elements are marginalizing or avoiding responsibility for the consequences.  Big Oil takes some, but then engages in a public communication campaign that clearly seeks to downplay bad news or shift the discussion.  The government talks about failures and offers promises, but that seems so inadequate.  On a personal level, there’s little discourse on what our individual role has been and should be in the future.

In embracing my responsibility in this tragedy, I remind myself of what I already do to reduce my use of fossil fuels.  I drive infrequently, minimize my use of single use plastics, turn off lights in rooms I’m not using and limit my plane trips.  I absolutely boycotted Exxon for 15 years after Valdez.  I try to put pressure on the government to invest in clean energies.  Yet, when the government can decide to let big oil drill without adequate safe guards, I don’t have a voice loud enough or the power to do anything to prevent it.  I feel so completely powerless.  Feeling simultaneously powerless and passionate is a lot of emotion to hold.

Someone I am close to seems barely affected by this spill at all.  It’s not that he doesn’t care, but he thinks I’m obsessed, and doesn’t see the purpose at being so upset about it.  And part of me does agree with him.  Despite the oil I still am a mother, active in a non-profit, and I run my own business and have a multitude of friends.  How shall I show up for these aspects of my life and contribute authentically to them when my heart feels like it’s breaking for the people and animals of the Gulf Coast?  Each person I encounter in these other areas deserves my full talent and I want to be present that way.  Yet, another part of me feels that addressing the oil disaster is important.

I’m bearing witness to this tragedy and I’m recalibrating my beliefs.  I am holding space in my being for what I call “both/and” as opposed to “either/or.” I feel this duality about this event:  my willingness to experience despair over this catastrophe and yet realizing that this is my life.  I have the capacity to get out of bed in the morning and play with my child, to be present as I smile and laugh with friends even though I rush home and check for new news.

It is clear that as a society we must demand better of our government and industries.  Yet I also am wondering what the deeper message is here.  What is being asked of us, as we continue to watch this disaster unfold?  

After September 11th, the people in this country rallied together.  But now it feels like there is such a deep division and people’s ways of communicating aren’t kind or civil to one another. On the Deep Water Response page on Facebook, there is so much anger and hostility expressed, not only toward BP, but at other peoples’ comments about the spill.  This week I read in the Wall Street Journal that pro-oil lobbyists are holding rallies where people are wearing tee-shirts that read “It’s the JOB climate, stupid!”.    Political rhetoric has turned hateful and demeaning.

Our country seems deeply divided between left and right, but I wonder how much this external division is caused by the internal divisions in our own psyches -- in our own inability to deal with our conflicting emotions, to be willing to feel both powerless and passionate, culpable and innocent, serene and angry about the events in our world?

Instead of looking within ourselves and recognizing that each of us is partially responsible, we look for external scapegoats to direct our anger toward.  This approach, so prevalent in our society and media, drives conversations into absolutes.  This is not useful.

In the calamity that is the Deep Water oil spill, we must insist on alternatives more than being pro-environment or pro-oil.  Perhaps it starts with accepting that within our lives, we own a share of this tragedy and the long-term damage it will inflict.  I can admit to within myself that I enjoy the many gifts the technological revolution has bestowed upon me, that my daughter will have the opportunity to visit with Grandparents who live on other side of the country and that I can plug this computer in to an electrical outlet and have conversations with people on other sides of the world, both literally and politically.  

Yet, I can also see that humanity isn’t reaching our full potential in the way we’re using up these precious resources… not only our oil, but also our lives.  Owning this responsibility challenges me to ask what we can or should change within our lives and within our social communities to mitigate our reliance on fossil fuels as well as how we can live our own lives to be more meaningful, less oriented toward things and more oriented toward appreciating and honoring the natural beauty of people and the world around us.

Yes, I can be deeply horrified by this oil spill and drive a car.  I can feel both completely helpless in the face of such a catastrophe and still be determined to make the small differences that I can.  I can be both terrified of the choices our species is making, wondering if Earth will shake us off like fleas and also have hope that humanity is evolving in to a more enlightened, peaceful and less wasteful species.   It is in this way that I stand and from here that I engage in compassionate dialogue, motivated by love of the ocean and love of humanity, and even still manage to love myself.

We are at a turning point.  The way we hold ourselves and the energy we share with each other will change this world.  It’s not only the job climate and the actual climate  that are at stake here.  It’s the human climate.   It’s how we engage with one another, how we are able to recognize the humanity in each other, even those we disagree with.  It’s how we reclaim our power in ways that are inclusive of all elements of our society.

How do you want to be with this oil spill, to experience the weight and the reality of it?  What is authentic for you?  How do you want to be with yourself and the choices you make in your life for your own family?  How do you want to reach out to others who might not share the same beliefs as yours?  How do we want to be with each other?

Wouldn’t it be nice if one of the consequences of this disaster is that we use our personal energy to create a shared, common future rather than dividing ourselves.