If you’ve been paying attention to the newsletter over the past few months, you might have noticed some headlines about snurfles. Very few people have asked about these, but I like to think some people noticed and just didn’t mention it. 

It began as a playful way to see if people were really reading the newsletter. But then, we needed to say more about the snurfles in our space, and the lore of these imaginary creatures began to grow. 

Snurfles, as it turns out, are invisible egg-laying migratory creatures, and their diet consists of human emotions, which they also amplify. Like any diet, there are nourishing options and there is junk food. Snurfles are nourished by compassionate, connecting, loving emotions. But the easy junk food is the high-energy anxiety, fear, indignation, and disconnection that seems readily available. And if snurfles amplify the emotions that feed them, then those high-energy junk food feelings are likely to ripple all over the place.

You know that snurfles aren’t real. There aren’t little invisible fairies dining on our emotions and then amplifying them into the space around us. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were though? Then, we wouldn’t have to take responsibility for all the feelings that we find challenging to manage.

If we catch ourselves getting particularly defensive in a conversation, we could just say, “Wow! There must be a snurfle around here feasting on defensiveness. Let me take a breath and try that again.” Of course, then we might have to give snurfles credit for the connection and affection we feel, too. But having an imaginary accomplice in spreading love and compassion might be alright.

For the past several weeks, there’s been a snurfle in a lot of our spaces—here at the congregation, but especially out in the larger world. We could probably name that snurfle Election. All of our usual anxiety and fear and sense of Us and Them has been amplified, and it’s probably affected a lot of our interactions. 

Sometimes we’ve been able to name it. Maybe you or someone you care about has said something like, “I’m sorry I snapped at you; I’m just so on edge about this election and I don’t have a lot in my reserve tank.” Or maybe you or someone you care about has just seemed more frantic than usual about all that has to be done to protect the world from falling into chaos. 

For a lot of us, everything we do has been a little more fraught. All of our relationships have gotten a little less of our best. Because we can’t completely rid ourselves of whatever emotions we’ve been feeling about the election and the future of our society. It’s like we’ve had a snurfle on our shoulder magnifying all those high-energy emotions non-stop.

And it’s not going to stop on its own. As I write this reflection, I have no idea what the election results will be, but either way, we’ll have a lot to contend with in our society and in our relationships. If we want our snurfles (and our selves) to be well nourished, we might need to be intentional about how we cultivate nutritious emotions. We might need to do a little more than we did previously to mindfully engage in gratitude, hopefulness, compassion, and connection. And if we do, we might discover that those emotions get magnified into all of our relationships too.

As we continue to journey together, intent on nurturing the world around us toward wholeness, and maybe experiencing a bit of fatigue and overwhelm in the process, may we be compassionate toward one another. May we invite breath and grounding where it’s helpful. May we extend grace when our emotions bubble over. Blame it on the snurfles if it helps.  

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