You Gotta Have Faith
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about faith; not as a euphemism for religion (though certainly that can be a site of faith), but as a driving force, a roadmap. I think organized religion has often given faith a bad rap. It can become a form of spiritual bypassing: “God’s got this” and “Jesus take the wheel” and all that as an abdication of personal responsibility, often referred to as “blind faith.” Critics of religion generally seem to view faith as a naïve and inferior substitute for logic and reason.
The kind of true faith that I’m talking about doesn’t come from throwing one’s hands up in despair and defeat. It doesn’t come from ignoring facts and reason (or conversely, putting faith only in logic). True faith, like hope, is a fighter. It comes from clearly identifying and then moving in alignment with our values.
Being alive in America in 2025 is to be buffeted daily by gale-force winds. It is exceedingly easy to get swept away by the magnitude of horrors and become so overwhelmed with the volume of work called for in this moment that we shut down and do nothing, or become a whirligig, trying to put out every fire at once. Obviously, neither of these are effective.
Having faith means identifying where you want to end up. What kind of world do you want to live in? What can you actually do on a regular basis to move a little closer to that world? Personally, I have been overwhelmed by the guilt of not doing more more more. I see the needs of so many communities that I belong to and feel that I must single-handedly address them, regardless of my actual capacity.
Over the past week, I have been sitting with this guilt and anxiety, and taking a look at where it’s coming from. I’ve found coping mechanisms: perfectionism, overachieving, trying to prove worthiness. I’ve found ableism: the idea that I should be doing more, even if it is detrimental to my physical and mental health. I’ve found capitalistic white supremacy: urgency, perfectionism (again), individualism.
There is undoubtably grief in coming to terms with the amount and scope of work that I can actually contribute. I am certainly not immune from the ego-driven American impulse to make a grand gesture, to create something that will have such a huge impact that we can sit back smugly and point to our brilliant creation. The reality of creating lasting change is far less sexy. The material actions that make up the bigger effect are much smaller than our egos would have us believe, and honestly, they don’t always feel like they’re doing anything.
I realize that I’ve been learning this lesson through working with the land. There is a large amount of destructive vines that have overrun the land I am on. As a whole, it seems a pretty impossible task to eradicate them. Sometimes my anxiety takes hold and tells me that I need to get them all gone ASAP because the longer I wait, the more insidious they’ll become. When I succumb to this anxiety, I overextend myself, burning out my body and honestly not making much of an impact at all. When I decide to take on a task that is accessible to me, no matter how small it seems, I get a much better outcome. I acknowledge that I’m not going to be able to remove the weeds completely. I remind myself that some is better than none—over time, it will have an impact, and there will be fewer vines than when I started.
It is vitally important that we put our faith in something that is true. Placing faith in a public figure, a political party, the “free market”, institutions, and other messianic illusions is a losing game that ends in disenchantment and apathy. These things lack endurance in the long run and are exceptionally vulnerable to corruption and collapse.
Effective faith is tied to commitment and boundaries. It is defining honestly our ability and capacity, and saying no to the rest. It is faith in our fellow people: faith that someone else is picking up the work that we cannot do. It is putting our head down and doing only the work that we are able to do and stay whole and healthy. It is not ignoring the shifts around us, but having deep faith that the work we are doing moves us steadily towards the collective goal.
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="I am still providing support to my friend Fedaa as she and her family survive in impossibly violent conditions. There are many ways you can help them! Here are a few options:
Donate to her Chuffed campaign. Bonus level: become a weekly or monthly regular donor! If 100 people donated $5/week, Fedaa would be able to purchase the food and medicine she needs.
Buy a piece of tatreez! I have been making earrings, pendants, and small framed pieces in honor of Fedaa’s work as an embroidery artist. All proceeds are donated to Fedaa. You can find them at Al Shams Bazaar.
Organize a fundraiser according to your talents and abilities! Sell a piece of art, musical compilation, service, baked goods, or anything that you make and donate the proceeds. Raffle off somthing cool! Host a clothing or plant/seed swap and charge a small fee for participation.
Follow @fedaafamily on Instagram and share her stories. Send her fundraising link to your friends, family, and/or coworkers. If you don’t have the ability to donate or raise funds personally, sharing her story and campaign with your networks is still an act of mutual aid.
