make light class of 2020 commencement: make light season 5, episode 14
I have a thing for commencement speeches, particularly if they’re, you know, actually good. There’s just something so wonderfully hope-filled about them: the idea of a sea of young people about to embark on the next huge chapter of their lives, with nothing but the words of some old sage between them and their diplomas and raging graduation parties. What could be more full of promise?
Sadly for me, no one has ever asked me to speak at their graduation ceremony. Sadly for you, I’ve never let the lack of an invitation hold me back. So for the second year in a row, I did one for The Make Light Show. And while normally my podcast episodes are unscripted (I usually just use an outline), this time I wrote the entire thing out, which I include as a transcript, below.
So click here or the arrow below to listen, and keep scrolling to read the text. Because I figure we could all use a bit of a commencement speech right about now. (And feel free to forward to any graduates you have in your lives — I imagine they’re missing the diplomas and raging parties right about now, and maybe this will give them a bit of comfort.)
Make Light Class of 2020, I’m thrilled to be here. We’ve come to the end of another Make Light Season, and as I virtually look out among the sea of imagined faces before me, I’m struck by the emotion indicating the feelings you are obviously overwhelmed by, and that feeling is clearly this:
WHAT. THE HELL. IS HAPPENING.
As I speak, my family and I are 24 days into staying at home in self-isolation as the planet is in the grips of a coronavirus pandemic. All over the world, we’re watching the numbers of confirmed cases grow at an exponential rate. We’re separating from the people we love as, weirdly, an act of love, to minimize their chances of contracting this deadly virus. Millions of folks are out of work, the stock market is weirdly all over the place, and no one has an honest clue about when this is all going to end.
I mean, jeez.
Well, my loves, I have bad news and I have good news. But before I go into both, a bit of context.
You see, I’ve been alive long enough to know that sometimes devastating things happen. And in my experience, when they happen, there are three stages.
The first is the crisis: it’s in those moments when we’re coming to realization that the bad thing is really happening. The floodwaters are really coming into the house. Your loved one has really passed away. The doctor is really giving you the scary diagnosis. I call this the shock and awe stage. It is the scary, earth-shattering realization that things are not okay.
The second stage is the aftermath and reconstruction stage. This is the time immediately following the crisis: we’re now tasked with surveying how bad the devastation is, and cleaning it up. The floodwaters have receded, leaving a ruined home. Our loved one has passed, and now we must plan a funeral and deal with all the associated paperwork. We’ve heard the scary diagnosis, now we must research and undergo treatment. This is the part where we assess the damage done, and move accordingly.
But then, there’s the final stage: the rising. This occurs once the reconstruction has happened, and we’re finding our new normal. We’ve reconstructed our home, and are back in it. We get the all-clear from our doctor after treatment. During this time, dealing with the crisis is now officially over, but life has we have known it has completely changed. With the experience and knowledge that we’ve gained from the first two stages, it’s time to create our normal day-to-day lives again.
So. Now that I’ve described these stages, first the bad news:
We’re still in the first stage of this pandemic event – the crisis. At this point, new infections are still happening, people are still dying. We’re still in danger, and we don’t really know how this is going to end. And whenever we’re in the crisis stage, the only thing we’re tasked to do is to stay safe. That’s it. That’s the whole thing. And there are two reasons for this:
Crucially, while we’re in the shock-and-awe stage and the crisis is ongoing, frankly, we are often not in our right minds to take rational steps to fix things. We’re too scared or stunned or confused. And it’s hard to make rational decisions when you’re scared and stunned and confused.
But also, practically-speaking, when we’re in the middle of a crisis, there’s really no telling what the aftermath will look like. It might be worse than we imagine – but it also might be better. It’s generally best to let the dust settle before making our moves, so we know exactly what we’re dealing with.
So what do we do right now? Again, stay safe. Heed the warnings from the experts. Practice all the things necessary to keep yourself and your loved ones safe. And self-care, self-care, self-care. Sleep, move, hydrate, nourish. Lather, rinse, and repeat. That’s all you need to do. And related: this might not be the time to begin a new project, unless that new project is 100% about self-compassion. Go easy, friends.
And one more note before I get to the good news: I’ve seen people say that what we’re experiencing collectively right now is grief, but I’m not entirely sure that’s accurate. We are in trauma, for sure, but I feel like the grief doesn’t truly come until we reach the aftermath and reconstruction phase – when we’re out of crisis, surveying the destruction and loss left behind. And unfortunately, my darlings, there will be loss – not just loss of life, but of celebrations and graduations and once-in-a-lifetime vacations and life events that should have already happened, but didn’t – or at least, didn’t in the way we hoped. And so, advice I have for both – the crisis and the aftermath – is to remember to give help and receive help. It’s how we sustain each other. And of course, always look for the light – it’s there, even in the darkest of times. It shows up in the form of kind neighbours, warm friends, and dedicated doctors and nurses. But it can also be found in tiny forms, like the new ways you’re connecting with your house-bound family members. Or beautiful weather days that allow you to let fresh air into your home. Or vegetables ripening in your garden. Or even a good night’s sleep. Make sure to take the time every day to recognize light in whatever large or small forms it appears. Because that light will sustain you in ways you can’t imagine.
And now, friends for the good news:
This, too, shall pass.
It really will. But even more importantly, once you emerge from the crisis and the aftermath, you will find yourself stronger and wiser because of them. You will be secure in the knowledge that you can do hard things – in fact, you will now have the evidence to prove it. You will have newfound confidence in your newly-gained resiliency. And the best part? You will have a blank canvas ahead of you to do with what you will. Those postponed celebrations and dream life events? You can create them now, but with renewed meaning and the lessons of love and connection that you learned while you were in isolation. Those big projects you dreamed about? Now is the time to tackle them with renewed vigour. Your life ahead will be bigger and vaster and deeper because of what you have endured. And why? Because again – you have taught yourself that you can do hard things.
And so, my friends, take heart. Like steel is made stronger by annealing with fire and then cooling, so too are you being annealed right now. So go easy with yourselves, friends, knowing that you can’t rush through the stages, but also knowing that you will come out better than ever. Continue to connect with each other. Show kindness. Look for the light.
And take comfort that you will emerge stronger wiser, and better equipped to make even more light in the world.
Take good care, my friends. I am with you. We are with each other.
The final episode of the Make Light show — and a commencement speech for everyone.