Gloomsday Prepping
I'm starting a cult.
The Monday before the election, I was eating dinner at the bar of my favorite Italian restaurant. If I’m honest, I can’t say I was particularly enjoying it. I was mindlessly shoving focaccia into my mouth while doomscrolling. But for some reason, I had the thought:
“What if I look back on today as the last day of an innocent time? Maybe I should enjoy this a little…”
And I started savoring every bite. I saw the waiters taking care of me. I took in that NYC jovial-and-cramped ambiance that I missed so badly during the pandemic. I reminded myself how many young parents would die to be eating by themselves. I marveled at the coordination that had to happen to get this imported burrata onto my plate. Yes, I’d love another glass of wine! Not only will I look at the dessert menu, but I will also be ordering off it!
Interesting time to be alive, huh?
Even if you’re happy about this turn of political events, you have to admit that you have no idea what’s going to happen next. It’s not hard to imagine this could be the craziest 4+ years we’ve ever experienced. Beyond the administration’s stated goals, there are all sorts of scenarios that could come up with AI, climate, geopolitical decisions, violence, the economy, and global health that could bring us into some seriously gnarly territory. It is totally conceivable that the world changes as much —if not more— as it did during the pandemic. Or it could just be, you know, a real bummer.
Most people in my circles have come out of their initial despair and settled on the “bummer” path.
… which makes total sense. We’ve been through tough times and survived. We need a narrative to ease the terror and continue living our lives as outlined.
And it might just be a bummer! It’s arrogant for anyone to assume they know what’s coming, how bad it will be, and to pre-respond to it as a certainty. I’d *love* to be wrong.
But I can’t shake the knowing that one day in the future, possibly in the next four years, we’re going to wake up to find that the world no longer resembles anything we’ve previously experienced. I don’t know how it happens or when it happens, but I do know it’s going to happen … to the degree I know anything. There are too many things in the air that have a predictable velocity.
And that means if I’m attached to my life and the world looking a certain way, there will be great loss. And if I’m not prepared, I risk spiraling. I lost things during the pandemic that I’m still working on getting back.
I’ve been struggling to know what to do with this constellation of feelings and beliefs. It doesn’t feel right to bury my head in the sand. Is there another way to approach this other than willful ignorance or debilitating terror?
I think my little act of spontaneous savoring at the Italian restaurant is how I want to approach these times.
I’m officially Gloomsday Prepping.
I’m building my emotional bunker full of tools, practices, and fellowship to thrive in decline. I’m expecting it to come. But if it doesn’t, I know that everything I fortify myself with is still valuable.
I’m seeing the period between now and the inauguration as time to savor. How delightful it is to be focused on the banal challenges of the day-to-day!
Every day that my personal world is *not* upside down is a gift.
I’m teaching myself how to feel awe over the littlest things. If I can be wowed by the experience of breathing, the opportunity to sense and experience even unpleasant things, then I can be okay with whatever comes.
I’m learning to appreciate feeling heartbroken. Grief is praise.
I’m learning how to play musical instruments and move my body more recklessly because song and dance are the purest expressions of human celebration.
I’m forcing myself to go on side quests to stretch my ability to emotionally regulate when I’m uncomfortable.
And I’m letting go of what people might think and allowing myself to invite people into the world I want to live in.
…So I’m starting an Ethical Cult.
Don’t worry; it’s just an immersive theater piece. For now…
People keep throwing around the buzzword of “community” as a response to the election. I’m not sure if that’s enough. I think we need to explore other ways of being with each other that have more ritual and structure.
I’ve had this idea in my brain for a while, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever done before. That’s code for: it scares me, I know I need other people and I don’t know if I know the right ones yet.” I also don’t know if I know the right me yet.
That’s been more than enough to stop me in my tracks.
But given the recent turn of events, it began to feel relevant enough to figure out.
Cults are not inherently evil. And they’re really good at certain things. The tightness and devotion of the container can create transcendence, the belonging we long for, and smooth over some relational traps.
But, as we know from every docuseries, they almost always fail. Someone gets a little taste of the divine and decides they want to fuck, kill, dominate, or force people to play volleyball.
As Jung said, “The closer to the light, the greater the shadow.”
Cults get into trouble when the leaders think they know “the way” and when they need the structure to continue to exist to serve their ego and connection needs. The Ethical Cult will not be concerned with any of this. It will be completely skeptical of its ability to trust anyone with power. It will be ruthless in disclosing its self-serving motives. If we worship anything, it will be working towards one brief moment where we all feel deep gratitude and connection. Like this lady:
Cultural Anthropologist Jamie Wheel has written extensively about the elusive concept:
If traditional cults were like taking your seat in an orchestra, and culty cults were like being in a marching band, ethical cults feel more like playing jazz. No sheet music or drum major to guide off. Just us, in the moment, listening for the pulse together.
I recently gathered some creative collaborators together to play some jazz.
We created a 2 hour cult to explore creating an ethical cult. And as evidenced in the photos above, we drank the koolaid and landed on something.
I’ve done enough of these early creative workshops to know that the idea is now both discovered and completely undiscovered. But at least now know I’m not crazy. And that’s an important milestone in any creative endeavor that feels outside your wheelhouse. I’m excited to keep exploring. Stay tuned.
Project Updates
The rewards of this Substack have been really interesting and unexpected. I partially solved my glasses situation. I solved a mystery in my neighborhood. I’ve been approached by one drunken admirer at every wedding I went to this summer.
And the tribute I wrote to my mentor who passed away has come to rank first for his name. Many people who knew him have reached out to connect. It’s been so great to get to know him through the web he weaved.
There’s an interesting piece going around about the “Cozy Web” and how the internet has changed. While I miss the scale and impact of throwing something out there that millions of people encounter, there’s something really lovely about putting something out there from your human soul and getting back human rewards. This space is also a part of my Gloomsday practice.
Thanks for being here with me.