Emily Jacobi

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”

― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Things I’ve watched squirrels do today:

• Run across the neighbor’s roof to the telephone wire, run along the telephone wire towards a tree, lose balance and slide upside down, still gripping the wire from below, panic briefly, turn around and run back to the roof, upside down, then using the edge of the roof to pull himself right side up.
• Sit on her hindlegs, tail held lovingly in front paws while using her mouth to enthusiastically and methodically groom her bushy tail.
• Get caught in the act of attempting to eat a necklace (made of glazed nuts/seeds) that had been placed on an outdoor alter. Watch me warily as he continued to gnaw through the string, successfully separating a strand of six and scampering on the fence wall with them. Unsuccessfully attempt to chew through the glaze to get to the meat of the nut. Run back to the tree stump in search of something edible. Closely examine a little squirrel size rake but neglect to rake the sand of the little zen sandbox. Re-attempt to chew through the glaze.

Today is the full moon, day 15 (correction, day 16) of the Moon Cycle blogging project, and two weeks before the official beginning of spring in the northern hemisphere.

What’s up for me to write today? The guidelines I created for myself at the beginning of this experiment included writing daily posts, striving for simplicity over perfection, and covering the topics that held the most juice for me on a daily basis. I didn’t state this explicitly in my original post, but there was an underlying goal behind those guidelines – to encourage bravery on my part. By posting every day and posting about the issues & ideas that were most present, I knew inherently I’d have to face some fears.

And so it is today. In an interesting synchronicity, today’s full moon is the first in many years to coincide with the first day of my period.* And that means that what’s up for me right now are seriously intense menstrual cramps. Pain in my lower abdomen that makes it difficult to concentrate, bloating in my body, a feeling of misery that seems like it will last forever. If you’ve experienced menstrual cramps, you know exactly what I mean, or your own version of it. If you haven’t, I wonder if I can possibly describe the experience. More importantly, I wonder if I should. I write this paragraph and think – am I a madwoman? Am I really going to risk writing about this – and for what, because I told myself a few weeks ago that I should write a post each day about what felt most relevant to me? Is it really worth the risk? What is the risk anyway? I don’t know exactly, but it seems deeply rooted in a broader cultural shame and disgust of bodies in general, women’s in particular. The risk seems rooted in a broader cultural delusion and desire to pretend that such things as menstruation – completely fundamental to human life – don’t exist, and aren’t a part of our daily reality. And so I vacillate between a sense of what is proper (to not write about my period) and the sense that there is some reason to be brave and write about what is actually most present for me at this moment.

So it is that in the experience of cramps, and in the experience of considering whether or not to write about them, a lot of rich material is unearthed. I was born into a body that, at puberty, developed the ability to give birth to new life. In a rhythm much like the moon, functions in my body wax and wane. On a monthly basis my ovaries release eggs which flow down the fallopian tubes to my uterus where, unfertilized, they signal a hormonal shift that marks the beginning of the period and the renewal of the cycle. It’s a process that began for me at puberty and will continue past middle age. It is at times illuminating at others maddening, but it is incredible to think about it – whether or not I ever choose to give birth to a child, each and every month my body is preparing, just in case. What a miracle! No wonder so much pain accompanies the end of every cycle, the release of all the enormous creative potential – the potential to literally create new life.

I write these words and recognize how simple and childlike they seem. In other cultures, they would seem obvious, and yet I feel in our culture we have rarely been given the chance to contemplate menstruation and what it – and all the pain and bloating that often accompanies it – really means. It’s worth noting that both my mom and dad were incredible supportive of me as I navigated the curious and often painful experience of my first few years of menstrual cycle. Yet still, I couldn’t help but learn a damaging message from my broader cultural upbringing – that menstrual periods are a “women’s issue” not meant for polite or professional conversations, not to mention intellectual ones. But why? I think to myself now. Isn’t there some message, some greater wisdom I feel in my body throughout the turning of my cycle? Isn’t there some meaning I can make from the pain? And why should I shield others in my life – especially males – from knowledge of what’s going on for me as I circle through the different phases of my cycle? Wouldn’t I want to know, if I didn’t have a female body to experience the hormonal shifts? When I ask myself that question, the answer is a resounding yes. And then my whole perspective starts to shift. I think – why, writing about my period, about my cramps, that’s not really a “women’s issue” at all … it’s a human issue which some people have less experience of. When I think of it from that angle – as some anonymous man wondering what it might be like to have menstrual cramps – I think how much I wish more women would talk about their experiences with menstruation, what a gift that would be for larger patterns of healing and understanding.

One thing I’ve learned from painful periods is that pretending they don’t exist doesn’t seem to help. Exercise, movement, curling up with a heating pad, talking about it, and, today at least, writing about it, does seem to help. Eating chocolate definitely helps. (Okay, maybe that’s a cliche for a reason). When I acknowledge the intensity of the cramps rather than try to wish them away, their power to derail me diminishes. The pain is still there but it moves.

I finish this post knowing I have more to say about my cycle, and what I’ve learned from it over the years. But these are enough words for one day, and enough of a risk to take. Is it okay, to write about this on my personal blog, even if I also use this blog to write about work, life, dreams? Is it okay to live in a body that is flawed yet miraculous, that changes and shifts and engages with all the messiness of being human? Is it okay to admit that I don’t always have control over how I’m feeling – that although Thursday afternoon might be the work week, it can also be a time when, through no conscious choice of my own, my body has other things in mind than just the work I set out to do today? What do these questions say about the larger assumptions we make about what is and isn’t okay to engage with in conversations about each other?

*More details to those of you who geek out on womyn’s moon cycles: The first day of menstruation is said to match most closely to the new moon, not the full moon. The full moon is more connected to the mid-point of a woman’s cycle, when she is most fertile. My current mismatch – beginning my cycle at the mid-point of the moon’s cycle – occurs in its own pattern that I’m still learning to decipher. Today’s circumstance – to experience the first day of my period at the time of the full moon – took about six months from the last time I was in synch with the new moon & my period.

“I arise every morning torn between the desire to save the world and the desire to savor the world. It makes it hard to plan my day.”  ~ E. B. White

These words are on the email signature of Janet Harris, a member of Digital Democracy‘s Board of Directors (and last year’s Board president) a mentor, a role model, an advisor and ally to Digital Democracy since our early days, and a person who radiates integrity with her every action and interaction. Hers is one of the few email signatures I’ve ever bothered to read more than once. Every time I receive an email from her, I take the time to reread those words, because they are a reminder of the joy and paradox of living an engaged life.

Today is Janet’s birthday, and as I contemplated what I might write about in my daily blog post (number 14/31 in the Moon Cycle series) it seemed most fitting that I use the occasion of her birthday to reflect a little on what I have learned (and continue to learn!) from Janet.

By day, Janet is the Chief Development Officer at California Academy of the Sciences, a wonderful institution housed in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park that connects people and science in enriching and whimsical ways. She is also the mother of two (including my friend Gabe Hopkins, one of the founding members of the Digital Democracy team), a mentor to many, a sign language interpreter, artist and arts patron, excellent cook, succulent aficionado, hiker, dancer and so so much more.

In 2012, the Dd staff and our newly formed board of directors took a retreat to Port-au-Prince, Haiti. The trip was rewarding and offered the chance to dig deep on our work. One night, though, the enormity of what we were trying to do – and the weight of working to make it happen for so many years on such limited resources – really caught up with me. Janet sensed my fatigue, and sat with me on a wooden bench upstairs at the iconic Hotel Oloffson while a band played below. She helped me take a deep breath and acknowledged that my role – as executive director – is rewarding, and a blessing, but also difficult. She gave me wise counsel that night that I often return to in times of questioning or doubting my ability. It was only one of many times she has given me wise counsel, but that moment in particularly resides in my memory.

Much of what I’ve learned from Janet is relevant more universally. Here are some of the gifts that I believe Janet embodies:

• Listening. How can we understand a situation, build a strong partnership, find a point of connection? All of these take good listening skills, first and foremost. The fundraising part of my job as executive director didn’t come easily to me at first; Janet helped me realize that my listening skills (honed through years of journalism!) were an asset, and gave me the peace of mind to remember that listening is the first step to building relationships, which is the foundation of effective fundraising.
• Asking questions. Key to listening is asking good questions. Janet’s ability to ask smart and thoughtful questions about our work has been such a valuable contribution to our board conversations over the years, and of course this curiosity is valuable far beyond the board convos.
• Knowing when to say no. This is a harder one for me than listening and asking questions, but Janet has really helped me understand that saying no to the not-quite-right things makes us stronger for all the things we say yes to. In the resource-poor mindset that it’s all too easy to fall into, I see many non-profits say yes to things (especially from funders) that aren’t quite right. Janet’s helped us know when to say no, and I think this discipline has fundamentally changed our trajectory for the better.
• Thinking strategically. Of course, how can you know what to say yes or no to without thinking strategically? Action without strategic thought behind it can just be busy work, and Janet’s helped us hone in on what to prioritize.
• The magical power of bridging science and faith. Janet’s work is rooted in science inquiry, and even in previous work (like at International Rescue Committee) has done incredible work supporting the very real circumstances we find ourselves in on this planet – from supporting diverse ecosystems to aleviating humanitarian disasters. But her work in the world is informed by her spiritual practices and her faith in the deeper meaning in life. On my own journey I’ve come to belief that this deeper search for meaning is one of the most critical components we can carry with us through life, and Janet is one of my role models for how to bridge science and faith in a way that enriches life.

Those of you who’ve had the pleasure to meet Janet know there is much more that can be said, but I’ll pause here. Janet, thank you for being a part of my life, and for playing such a critical role in helping Digital Democracy bring its mission into the world. Happy happy birthday!

Sometimes things happen – like losing one’s wallet. In between Berkeley Bowl and home, it leapt out of my pocket in search of an adventure. I hope it found a good one! I retraced my steps, but to no avail. Maybe it will return to me someday … it was the first wallet itself I ever liked, orange leather, pleasing to the touch and eye, a gift from my parents 5 or 6 years ago. I guess it’s time for something new.