Whoa. Sometimes the world says stop. Sometimes my best ideas just aren’t going to fly. Sometimes, skilfulness requires shutting my mouth and going with the flow. Here’s the most recent skinny on my third try at living a day without electricity–twenty-four hours when I watched my burning aspiration fizzle into the waters of Lake Erie.

You may recall on August 10th I pledged to live four consecutive electricity-free Saturdays and blog about my experiences once the computer came back to life. This quest is my personal protest against our nation’s fossil fuel energy policies and the corporations that profit from them. The first week my performance was so-so and I gave myself a grade of C+. On the second try, I was slightly more mindful and I learned some things, too; I gave myself a grade of B. I was trending up and starting to think–in the end–I would master this goal, check this one off.

Then came the Labor Day holiday and two lakeside cottages full of family.

My family is perhaps like yours: not everyone is environmentally aware and not everyone feels an urge for protest. There are even a few who rage against climate science and misguided liberal nonsense. The gracious host of the Labor Day gathering–a woman I dearly love and respect for ten-thousand reasons–happens to fall into the latter category.

Knowing this I emailed a few family members with influence before the visit. I wanted to test the waters. The response I got in return was enthusiasm: “Yeah, I’m in; sounds fun!” But there was also a measure of caution, of course: “Keep it playful; DONT MAKE IT POLITICAL!” So, I packed candles and matches for all and traveled to the reunion thinking the idea might fly but I’d have to feel my way.

Four generations gathered at the shore–everyone arrived with a different set of needs. My politically conservative hostess herself arrived late in the day, worn out from a week’s work, needing rest, and yet her spirits were high. I watched her love us all with food, soothing words, good humor, games, and boundless energy. Words I spoke during our last visit–when political bait dangled uncomfortably between us–leapt to my mind. “Honey,” I said, “I love you more than I love my political position; let’s not argue.”

Watching her do so much for so many, I thought too of my earth-loving, environmentally savvy, and conservation-minded husband’s comment when I asked if he would join me in four electricity-free days. He said: “Don’t fuck with me Heather; I have too much to do!” My holiday hostess when caring for a crowd would likely feel the same, but she would be far too gracious to speak such honest words.

The candles stayed in the trunk of the car. My lips were still when lamps with 120 watt bulbs acted as nightlights and blazed as we slept. Instead, I celebrated the electricity-free day by flipping off light switches and silencing fans rotating in empty rooms flooded by daylight.

Some may think me weak-willed; I was the first to cast that stone upon my actions but then I thought again.

During the visit, I was as responsible for the welfare of others as they were for mine. I opened myself to the intimacy of family, gave my attention freely, and was sensitive to the subtleties of happenings around me. The wisdom of inaction was obvious; taking a pass on the electricity-free day actualized love and compassion because a plan pressed unwillingly upon others is exploitive, a form of violence. Long ago I took a spiritual vow to do no harm so the choice to let the idea go was simple. I exercised the patience of refrain.

Upon reflection, I welcome a conversation with extended family about troubling issues facing the planet, a conversation free of anger and wrapped in compassion and love. This year, my unilateral call for an electricity-free day was not the door into such a conversation. Perhaps next Labor Day I will find the way.

This week I give myself an “incomplete,” a grade of 0.