Inaugural Intentions

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Things are feeling a bit dark again…  Reminds me of October, when I got emotionally hijacked by current events and found myself anxious and angry, but wouldn’t admit it for a while.  On the eve of a new presidential administration taking office, tensions run high once again and I’m challenged to avoid a similar decent into despair.

It really helped to take the Holiday Break and write to my friends.  I did it by hand, with colorful pens, stickers, and rubber stamps (I love rubber stamping).  I intended to connect more personally, and that’s exactly what it felt like.  As I see and hear expressions of fright, dread, sadness, anger, and pessimism among them, I intend to continue corresponding by pen and paper.  There’s just something more tangible about it, more intimate and permanent than email, text, or Facebook.  I have included excerpts below—the ones that felt particularly inspired.  They represent my intentions for managing myself in the coming years, of reinforcing my core values and focusing on my highest aspirations.  As Simon Sinek posted once:  “Fight against something, we focus on what we hate.  Fight for something, we focus on what we love.”

To my friends who have expressed, “get over it,” and “stop whining,” I respectfully request that you try to empathize with those of us who feel despondent.  Nothing will improve if we keep ridiculing and belittling one another.  If you experienced this from ‘us’ before the election, remember how it felt.  Rise above our worst collective behavior and help us overcome our fears and disappointment by showing us that we really do share more love and connection than we might think.

Unity and true indivisibility require all of us to pitch in and reach out.  I hope that by one year from now, we can all look back and feel proud of the connections and relationships we strengthened, from left to right and otherwise.

***

What a crazy year…  All bets are off, no one can possibly predict what will happen now—so much anxious uncertainty surrounds us all over the place!  …And yet I feel hopeful and optimistic.  This is the time for our best selves to truly shine—the perfect opportunity to call on everything we have trained for—all of the grit, the kindness, the curiosity, the openness, the brave vulnerability~~~all of it, in service of connection, mutual understanding, and forging a way forward to a BRIGHTER future!  Because we now know, again, in humanity’s history, what darkness looks and feels like.  We can’t stay here, and we won’t—we can each shine a light.  And if we stand close, the light amplifies exponentially.

So thanks for being a fellow light shiner, (my friend)!  May we keep our connections with each other and our other fellows ever close—we need us—the world needs us—now more than ever!!  Keep it lit, my friend.

***

…Hope this card finds you well and HOPEFUL.

Because I have decided that that is what we all need to practice more now than ever—HOPE.  Those of us who strive for conscious living and more connection than the superficial have TRAINED for this moment in history—to PRACTICE OUT LOUD and IN FRONT of everybody—to lead by example and make the difference we were born to make!  We don’t need to do big things—we just need to keep the faith and stay the course!

’Small things with great love,’ I think Mother Theresa said?

Please know I am here to support your efforts, as I know you are for mine!  Let’s get together and hold each other up again soon!

***

…Because I know so many people whose core values represent the BEST of our shared humanity—equality, compassion, community, connection, love, and forgiveness.  The world needs these qualities and practices by us more now than ever—so if we hold each other up, we’ll all be able to do the work better—TOGETHER!!  So here’s to long friendships and deep love!

***

I received this handwritten response from an old friend today.  It warms my heart and holds up my hope:

“While we may snarl a bit at anticipated political shenanigans, let us remember we have strength in numbers and determination to keep life in this country respectful and fair—simply by the ways we live and interact.”

***

And finally, I’m also encouraged that our international leaders express a similar optimism:

Angela Merkel: “I am very much convinced that we as partners benefit more if we act together than if everyone solves problems for themselves, and that is a constant fundamental attitude on my part.”

Peace to all of you, dear friends.  Let us manifest our best every day.

An Interjection

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Hello friend readers!  Want to share this from my morning Facebook feed… A video about Donald Trump that made me think.

Forgive me, I have not yet learned how to embed video into posts; here is the link.

And my thoughts:

Wow, this really paints a different picture–positively stymies me. As I watched, I remembered all the other things I have seen and heard him say–so inconsistent–mind-bogglingly so–with what’s presented here. So we will have to wait and see. And do everything we can as individuals to hold his feet (and those of all of our elected officials) to the fire.

I am extremely skeptical about his character (so extremely). But if this video truly represents it (OMG so skeptical), and he can manifest it in the next four years (***starting by calling to his supporters to stop committing assault and battery in his name***), that would be the best case scenario.

I will pray for his better angels to prevail. I know many of us believe he has none. But if we write him off forever now and oppose him for its own sake, we risk throwing away a unique opportunity to learn and connect.

In the end I would rather have given him the benefit of the doubt and been disappointed than thrown him away and wish I had been more generous.

Because I want to live generously. It’s better for my health and happiness, and I think it’s the better example for my kids. I can do that and be skeptical and pragmatic at the same time.

God help us all.

On Setting Intentions

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NaBloPoMo 2016, Letters to Patients, Day 9

To Patients Seeking Bearing and Beacons

Set your intentions for the day.

In the aftermath of the election…  I feel an intense need to self-soothe and focus.

A wise friend recently introduced me to a morning practice that has impacted my days in wonderfully tangible ways.  He describes a 5×5 grid which he pencils in his journal each morning.  He fills each box with a word that he wants to hold in intention for the day.  For each word, he meditates on its meaning, then what it would feel like.  Then he meditates to feel it and live it already.  Throughout the day he then recalls the words and their sensations.  He started with a 2×2 grid (four words), then gradually increased it to 5×5.

I have had 9 (now 10) presentations to prepare between mid-August and the end of this month.  My practice continues to grow.  The kids’ schedules and activities multiply proportional to their heights.  Learning this anchoring method from him has been a Godsend for focus and grounding, and I am so grateful.

I started with 3 words, and have practiced inconsistently (this appears to be a pattern for me).  But each day that I take time to determine the words and sit with them a while, I notice a remarkable steadiness throughout the day.

Patience.  Compassion.  Focus.  Love.  Empathy.  Ease.  Generosity.  Equanimity.  Joy.  Fun.  Peace.  Forgiveness.  More Love.  Connected.  Center.  Openness.  Curiosity.  Engage.  Movement.  Lightness.  Ground.  Calm.  Acceptance.  Non-judgment.  Happy.

It’s really amazing:  Just a few minutes in the morning are all it takes to frame my mind and resolve my heart.  I feel steadfast as I walk out the door.  I go about my day and forget.  Then, in those unfocused moments, the words rise to conscious awareness and I remember, reset, and re-center.

Maybe you’re feeling a little unsteady now, also?  Give the Word Intention practice a try.  It can’t hurt.  It costs a few minutes of time.  You can start with one word.  You can write it on your hand.  There is no such thing as cheating, only seeking and centering.

Best wishes and peace to you.

Holding the Space for Our Suffering to Heal Us

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Hello again, dear friends.  Peace, love, and joy be with you on this, the autumnal equinox.

This post marks the conclusion of the Healing Through Connection Summer Series, 2016:  Holding the Space.  The story I will tell is important to me, and I love that it’s the series finale.  I wish I had posted on the last day of summer, but the first day of fall is okay, too.  Two days ago I was privileged to witness a whole lot of people, hold a whole lot of space, for a whole lot of suffering.  And I posit that we all came away better for it.  I invite you to sit back, get comfy, and take your time with this one.  I’m feeling particularly fulfilled as I sit to write, and I hope to convey the deep gladness I gained from the experience.

***

It was day three of the International Conference on Physician Health, in Boston.  I had anticipated this meeting giddily for nine months.  From the moment I heard the call for abstracts, through the iterative preparatory steps, to the final emails, texts, PowerPoints, and conference calls with collaborators, through the personal connections and learning, I was now positively beside myself with zeal.  It was everything I had hoped and more.  I was surrounded by colleagues from three continents, all gathered to share and unite around making our professional world more humane.  We explored ideas like awe, joy, mindfulness, empathy, presence, and vulnerability.  I had lived two glorious days in a cocoon of safety, love, and resonance.  I was among my people.

This day’s workshop focused on compassion, and aimed to tap its deepest reaches within each attendee.  The presenter prepared us for the exercise by describing his work with previous groups—CEOs breaking open in anger, shame, forgiveness, and finally compassion.  He asked that we hold the gravity of vulnerability with reverence and respect.  We understood the solemnness asked of us, and responded in kind.  This was the exercise:

On a blank 5×7 index card, write a personal story.  You will have five minutes.  The cards will be collected at your table, redistributed, and shared anonymously at another table.  Be aware that your writing may be shared aloud with the whole group, later in the exercise.  Instruction:  Write the story of a time in the past year that was really hard for you, when you suffered.  It could be personal or professional.

For a split second I felt a catching in my chest—‘Yikes!’  And in the next breath, ‘Bring it.’  I knew this tribe.  They would hold it for me, with me, no question.  And because I was also a tribe member, I would do it for them.  I looked forward to it, actually.  I wrote with surprisingly little effort, concisely yet in detail, about a particularly challenging relationship and my struggles with perfectionism.  How could my other relationships shine so brightly, feel so easy, and flow so freely, while this one so regularly caused me angst and turmoil?

At the end of five minutes my tablemates and I placed our cards in an envelope provided.  I felt oddly relieved, as though a great weight I carried all this year had been lifted.  The envelope was marked, then passed three or four times between tables, so we didn’t know where our cards ended up.  They were as letters in a corked bottle, cast into the ocean, released to an uncertain, but hopeful, fate.

Our presenter explained that at this time, the envelopes would normally be opened, and each of us would take one card and read it.  We were to hold it and its anonymous author in the space of compassion, then share with our tablemates.  We would help one another hold one another.  Then, if so moved, each table would choose one card to share with the larger group.  Our task was to connect, with ourselves and one another, to feel deeply now, to remind us how to do it out in the world.  This was where it would get real, we all knew.   And though he had warned us earlier about an unforeseen shortening of the workshop schedule, we did not see the abrupt end of the exercise coming.  He told us we would not have enough time to do the exercise justice, and so the envelopes would remain unopened this day.  He acknowledged the conflict we all felt, the urge to look.  But he stood firm that experiences like this cannot be rushed, and he respected the time constraints of the meeting.

The tension in the room was palpable, even as we all sat in silence.  It felt jarring, painful, anxious.  What would happen to the cards?  What about all that suffering contained in them, people’s hearts and lives scribed with intention to be seen, known, understood, and held?  Surely they would not just be thrown in the trash?  One colleague voiced so poignantly our core conflict:  We all wanted closure for this vulnerable exercise, and that need competed with honor for the time required to complete it.  Our leader gracefully acknowledged this truth, and solemnly held the space for us all to be present to its discomfort.

For a moment we felt stuck, we connection seekers.  I looked at our leader.  His expression conveyed nothing but humility and empathy.  His posture conveyed resolution.  Despite our deep longing, he refused to lead us into treacherously thorny fields, because he knew he did not have the time to bring us safely through to the other side.  But he also allowed us to process, invited us to consider how else we could collectively resolve our unease.

I wondered what would physically become of the cards.  Would he take them home with him?  Would he burn them in a reverent ceremony of sorts?  I knew he felt responsible for us and our predicament.  Would he read each one, hold each of us and all of our suffering, all by himself?  I felt immediate compassion for him, and hoped that he would not take that route; none of us would want that for him.

I wanted to suggest that we be given the option of each pulling one card, to hold in compassion privately, as we left the workshop.   But we were spread out in a big room, feeling separated from one another rather than connected, and I felt sheepish.

Within a minute or so we had decided to collect the envelopes together, stand surrounding them as if around an altar, and offer a benediction of sorts.  I could not shake the urge to reach out, to take one person’s suffering and hold it for them, love them, send energy of compassion and solidarity to them, whoever they may be.  I realized also that this was exactly what I wanted for my card, for my suffering.  And now that we stood shoulder to shoulder, at least physically if not emotionally proximal, I felt more comfortable to speak.  “I really want for someone to take my card and hold it for me, and I really want to do that for someone.”  Another attendee immediately looked me in the eye and said, “I’ll do it.”  The group consented; each of us would take a card at random, if we wanted.  I pulled one from the third envelope from the top of the pile.  I held it to my chest and returned to my seat.  I forgot all about my own card, and my anxiety evaporated.  I no longer cared if anyone saw mine; I had released it.  My task was to hold my colleague’s sorrow with my own heart, and wish with my whole being for their peace and healing.

I’m so proud of all of us.  We attended to so many needs that morning, all with respect and kindness.  The presenter set the tone for the workshop from the beginning and we all understood the learning objectives: Practice opening up to let the healing in and practice the inner work of holding another’s suffering with your own.  Connect with our shared humanity.  We all learned an important lesson in flexibility, creativity, collaboration, and acceptance.  We held space like champions.

I’m proud of myself for finally speaking up, for asking for what I needed.  That I was met with such generosity and tenderness speaks to the remarkable power of mutual understanding and compassion.  I took a deep breath and read the card in my hands.  My colleague’s story was short, about the 5 year anniversary of his/her father’s death, and memories of loss and helplessness.  Tears came when I read it.  I hugged the card and said a prayer for its writer.  I’ll keep the card someplace safe, and eventually release it in some respectful, peaceful way.

I don’t know if anyone pulled my card.  It’s okay.  Just the hope that someone might have seen it and given it some consideration is enough.  I learned the lesson I needed: Offering my pain for someone else to hold a while, and accepting another’s sorrow to hold for them, constitutes the cycle of healing.  We are not here to go it alone.  We need one another in the best ways.

Holding the Space for Shadow Behind the Light

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Have you ever been in an argument and suddenly realized the perfectly mean thing to say, that ultimate verbal weapon that would render your opponent categorically mute and ambush them into abject submission?  It’s an exhilaratingly powerful feeling, isn’t it?  What did you do?  Did you bite your tongue and take the high(er) road?  Did you blunt the skewer and lob something passive-aggressive instead?  Or did you let loose that ax with the full force of rage behind it, just to see what would happen?

***

I had another convergence experience last week, in a series of articles on my Facebook newsfeed.  It started when I saw this piece on reconciling the parts of ourselves which we subconsciously hate, in order to live more integrated, fulfilling lives, particularly in our relationships with others.  The author discusses Carl Jung’s core ideas, stating, “To heal a split in self, a person needs to work with their shadow and learn uncomfortable truths about themselves in the process. Our inner war is softened when we allow ourselves to be seen. Not just the side of ourselves that matches our intersubjective ideal — that is easy. We show those feathers prominently. No, we need to accept our failures and shortcomings too.”

Yes, I know.  It’s the Sh*tpile all over again.

The Remembrance

I attempted to read a book several years ago, Debbie Ford’s The Dark Side of the Light Chasers.  There is an exercise on page 69 of the 2010 paperback edition in which she lists a set of negative words, such as greedy, phony, cheap, lazy, wimp, fat, passive, coward, etc.  The instructions are as follows:  “Identify the words that have an emotional charge for you.  Say out loud, ‘I am ________.’  If you say it without any emotional charge, then move on to the next word.  Write down the words that you dislike or react to.  If you are not sure…ask yourself how you’d really feel if someone you respected called you this word.  If you’d be angry or upset, write it down.  Also…(think about) words that are not on this list that run your life or cause you pain.”  The list is almost two pages long.

Back around 2011 I did this exercise in earnest.  I wrote down words like controlling, bitchy, rigid, egocentric, better than, arrogant, defensive, judgmental, condescending, oversensitive, and many more.  I’m looking at the list right now, written on a napkin while I sat alone reading at lunch—so long and depressing.  Who knew I hated so many things about myself?  I got through another 40 pages of the book, as evidenced by the bookmark still wedged at the end of the chapter entitled, “Embracing Your Dark Side.”  All I remember is the profound, visceral discomfort I felt after that exercise, the unshakable fear and shame, and how I basically came home that day and picked a fight with my husband that lasted for two weeks.  Not my proudest moments on this journey of self-discovery….  I remember thinking, ‘This is f*ing hard.  How will I ever get on the other side of it all?’

These days, things feel very different.  I’ve done a lot (a lot) more inner work, studied and learned, and enlisted professional help to overcome my aversions to emotional vulnerability.  I’m thinking I could probably pick this book up again, redo the exercise, and have a very different experience.

The Emergence of a Thread

While I pondered this, another article came across my newsfeed, entitled, “What Nice Men Never Tell Nice Women.”  Basically it describes the internal tension between men’s competing impulses: “The nice man is democratic, egalitarian and deeply sympathetic to the feminist agenda – and yet in sexual fantasy, he loves the idea of being tyrannical, bullying and really very rough. He himself can’t understand the disjuncture between competing parts of his nature; he is spooked by the drastic switch in his value-system that occurs the very second after orgasm.”  Wow.

The article concludes with, “It’s clearly very hard for the partners of the nice to take on board the darker sides of their lovers. But if they are robust enough to dare to give them some attention, the result can be an extraordinary flowering of the relationship beyond anything yet experienced. However close we may be to someone because they have been nice to us, it’s as nothing next to the closeness we’ll achieve if we allow them to show us, without shaming or humiliating them, what really isn’t quite so nice about them.

“Out there, in the politer corners of society, nice guys are – without saying a thing, that’s not their style – waiting for nice women to start to gently take the weighty burden of their ‘badness’ off them. And, of course, vice versa too, for no gender has any monopoly on the sense of being bad.”  This last sentence gave me pause and hope.  It turned the tables and made it okay for women to also have a dark side, for us to also struggle with our ‘niceness.’

One of my friends commented, questioning, “So all men are either openly hostile and misogynistic, or are burying their dark feelings?”  I almost reflexively I replied, “I took the article as saying we all bury our dark feelings somewhat, and we can live fuller, healthier lives if we both acknowledge them and manage them effectively.”  Again, I found myself returning to this core idea of grappling with our inner demons.  By now I started to wonder about cosmic timing.  What has the re-emergence to teach me now?  We all have some base impulses, parts of ourselves that we would sooner deny than acknowledge, let alone show to the world.  I wrote about this, rather spontaneously and unexpectedly, at the beginning of the Blogging A to Z Challenge.  Little did I know then that this would become a recurring theme this summer.  It’s as if the universe urges me onward, perhaps sensing that my motivation to dig in my shitpile wanes, when I ought to be digging deeper, integrating more?  Isn’t this what I’m always preaching, to Own Your Shit?  Okay then, I thought, I will stay on the path.

The Dark Side of the Dark Side

The next article to converge on this shadow-themed week came in the form of tweets by a reporter from a Trump rally on August 18th.  People were saying Hillary Clinton should be executed, calling her a ‘f*ing witch,’ calling President Obama a ‘goddamn Muslim terrorist,’ saying ‘reporters need lobotomies, and maybe that’s what Trump will do after elected,’ wanting to ‘hurt the press,’ mentioning ‘a civil war if Trump loses,’ and it goes on.  It occurred to me that these are examples of us not managing our dark sides very well.  The article on Carl Jung and Debbie Ford’s book both embrace the idea of uncovering our less generous traits with compassion, and integrating them for a healthier whole.  These people’s behavior, by contrast, demonstrates the profound risks of allowing those darker impulses to overtake our consciousness, words, and actions.  The container of repression has its limits.  When someone outside applies incendiary words and rhetoric, the fire drives internal pressures beyond the container’s capacity.  If that person then provides a release valve in the form of a similarly aggravated group, well, violence and mayhem are born.

In my previous posts I have reminded myself to remember to look beyond the mob mentality, and listen for the individuals’ personal experiences.  I have to continuously remind myself that we must have more in common than not.  We are all human, after all, and we love our country.  So what could drive people to abandon all social norms of restraint, and unleash such profound loathing into the world?

I came across the final piece in the convergence on Sunday, which offers some insight.  Veteran journalist Joel Stein wrote this blog post exploring the nature of internet trolls.  In it he describes how despite the profoundly abhorrent things these people may write to their online prey, they are not the dregs of society that we may imagine.  He quotes a social media exec: “’The idea of the basement dweller drinking Mountain Dew and eating Doritos isn’t accurate,’ she says. ‘They (could) be a doctor, a lawyer, an inspirational speaker, a kindergarten teacher.  It’s more complex than just being good or bad… It’s not all men either; women do take part in it.’  There’s no real life indicator,” he writes.

Stein describes his experience confronting his own troll of two years, a 26 year-old, small-framed, female freelance writer who on multiple occasions tweeted that she wanted to “kick (his) ass.”  He invited her over Twitter to meet for lunch in order to confront her, and she cheerfully agreed over email.  Excuse me??  During the meal she admitted that she was just lashing out at what she perceived as his ‘smarminess,’ and told him outright, “’It’s clear I’m just projecting. The things I hate about you are the things I hate about myself.’”  And though she had been trolled worse than he, she experienced no sympathy that prevented her from doing it to him.  She expressed incredulity when he asked why she never carried out her threats to beat him up, even when she had the chance.  “’Why would I do that?’ she said. ‘The Internet is the realm of the coward. These are people who are all sound and no fury.’”

So more and more, in both large, impersonal groups and online, our dark sides are given free reign with few, if any, meaningful consequences.  Under cover of the mob and anonymity of the internet, we can freely relieve our repression.  But it comes without any insight, and there is no lasting benefit, for ourselves or those around us.  There is only offloading, a temporary pressure release, only to continue re-accumulating, with unpredictable and potentially very destructive outcomes.

This is not, I think, the manner in which Carl Jung envisioned us coming to grips with our shadow selves.  This is not integration.  Rather it is advanced separation— perpetual splitting of self from self and from others.

The Lesson

So what have I learned?  We all harbor coarse, corrupt, even barbaric tendencies.  We are descendants of cavemen, after all, and still hardwired as such in our limbic brains.  Still, most of us exercise discretion and civility in everyday life, and find ways to get along in society—we exert neocortical controls.  Every once in a while, though, something gets the best of us, catches us off guard, and the ugly slips out.  Sometimes it’s pretty scary ugly.

Once again, I conclude that shaming ourselves or one another for the repugnance is the opposite of helpful.  Just like the offloading behavior that incites our disapproval, automatic ad hominem negativity toward perpetrators of such words or acts only serves to further alienate them, adds fuel to the fomenting rage fires.  When we berate ourselves for our shortcomings, we make ourselves smaller and less resilient–more likely to react with rage rather than respond with gentleness.

In the end I think it’s about judgment.  We can and should judge which attitudes, policies, and behaviors we deem right and good.  At the same time we should exercise caution and extreme patience when we find ourselves judging ourselves and others on worthiness.  The default assumption must be that we are all worthy, that we all deserve a voice, no matter how vulgar and objectionable our words.  We must apply boundaries, and we should expect mutual respect and tolerance; we can find ways to deal with disrespect and intolerance that do not invalidate one another’s innate humanity.

As we each pursue our own inner work, dig in our respective shitpiles, we contribute to the life gardens of those around us, and lead by example.  It can be back- and sometimes spirit-breaking work.  But we must continue.  There is too much at stake for us to take the path of least resistance, the path of separation and alienation.  Let us stay on the more demanding and more rewarding path together, friends–the path of connection.  Let us hold one another up through the shadows, and seek always the light within each and all of us.

Holding the Space for Connection Through the Hard Conversations, Part II

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Today I watched this video of Trump supporters at his rallies.  Their words, actions, and expressions represent the basest human emotions.  I posted the video to my Facebook page, commenting:

(Donald Trump incites rage and hate) in his followers. He stokes the worst in people. He provokes the emotional states that preclude rational thought and reasonable behavior–he is the king of emotional hijacking. Nobody ever makes a good decision while emotionally hijacked; that is when relationships and connection are destroyed, often violently and permanently.

And here’s another irony:  We non-supporters are similarly hijacked by his belligerence.  He and his supporters incite us to rail against them all, collectively and wholly as individuals, as racists, bigots, idiots, haters, etc.  Name-calling is the easiest and most convenient way to separate ourselves from what we disdain, what we fear, and what’s too uncomfortable to tolerate.  But how does this help anything?

On my last blog post I wrote:

I intend to avoid:

-Speaking and writing in sweeping generalizations

-Following snap judgments about groups, or individuals based on their group membership

-Labeling and shaming people or groups as ‘racist,’ ’ignorant,’ ‘stupid,’ ‘lazy,’ etc.

Today I wrote about Trump’s supporters:

I’m trying not to label and pigeon-hole these people, trying not to judge them and discard them, just by what I see here.  That only advances the exact mentality I seek to reverse: more separation, more hatred, more “you are less than me, you don’t matter.”

I guess I have to keep reminding myself.

I can hardly imagine what it would be like to sit down, one-on-one, with someone who sincerely supports a Donald Trump presidency, and have a conversation about it.  But I can easily imagine talking to a Trump supporter about the trials and joys of parenting, the breakneck evolution of technology, and a mutual love of Marvel movies.  Who knows, maybe I already do.

I think most of my friends know my political persuasion.  Most of them also share it.  But probably more than I realize don’t share it, and we avoid talking about it.  Why?  Because it’s uncomfortable.  We don’t trust ourselves to avoid the emotional hijacking.  We’re afraid we’ll say something we’ll regret and damage the relationship.  Or (and), we see the only objective of such conversations as trying to change the other person’s mind, or having our mind changed, which feels at the same time futile and scary.  So our avoidance of the hard, uncomfortable conversations is an attempt to maintain connection (with ourselves as well as one another).  We intrinsically understand that our relationships are important.  So we limit our conversations to topics on which we agree.

At this time in our human evolution, however, we are called to do more.  It’s too easy to live in the echo chambers of like-minded friends and media sites.  It’s too easy to filter our perceptions through repetition and reinforcement, to think that our point of view is the only one, or worse, the only right one.  It’s too easy to label others as wholly racist, sexist, bigoted, idiotic, communist, misogynist, mindless, right-wing, extremist, or evil, based on impulsive interactions in comment sections on a blog or Facebook post.  It is simply too easy to fall victim to premature judgment and conviction based on skewed and incomplete evidence.  We are called to so much more.  We are called to the hard conversations, the interactions that require effort and persistence.  Why?  Because the rewards of this work are understanding, compassion, empathy, connection, and love.

My friend wrote to me, “We have to do this work for your beautiful children.”  Yes, my dear friend, for all of our beautiful, innocent children.  Let us model for them what it means to Hold the Space for Connection, even, and especially, when it’s hard.  This is the work we are called to do.

Look for the Helpers

November Gratitude Shorts, Day 19

I never intend to write on politics here, but I suppose if I am to be authentic in blogging, as in life, I need to express potentially controversial things at times.

In the past few days I find myself glued to Facebook, looking for information and reflecting on friends’ posts. I am grateful today for all the writers more knowledgeable and articulate than I, who strive to contribute peace and understanding in the face of fear and destruction. I hope I can make my own small contributions, too.

I share now the timeline of articles that have helped me cope with recent world events.


Saturday, November 14:

My friend posted this photo, which prompted me to wonder… “But what does it mean for an ordinary citizen to ‘stand with’ a whole other country at a time like this? It’s more terrorism happening, right? The root of that is hate, anger, self-loathing, and other pain, from what I have read. So maybe ‘standing with’ France or any other victims of violence means exercising more curiosity and compassion, less judgment and negativity, toward the people right around us, whomever they are, wherever we are. We may not redeem a terrorist this way, but we can at least not help make one?”

I did not know about the bombing in Beruit, and learned important perspective about media coverage of world events from this article.

Then, a friend posted an even deeper discussion of how we truly cannot relate, as Americans, to the horror in the Middle East, and an invitation to open our hearts and minds to awareness.

Tuesday, November 18:

Increasing news coverage about US governors announcing refugees unwelcome in their states.   A friend posted a history lesson from the Washington Post.

I see opposing viewpoints emerging in stark and sometimes vehement relief on my friends’ pages. No refugees until all of our veterans are off the streets and taken care of!  If you refuse refugees you let ISIS win, you are a pawn of fear, stop being a coward! Look at all the atrocities committed by Muslims! Oh yeah? Look at all these other atrocities committed by Christians!  Do we really want to play this game of one-ups-manship?

Just when it felt overwhelming, and I wondered again what a single citizen could do, another friend posted this picture:

And another posted this article about a past governor of my home state of Colorado, who stood out and up for his inner sense of humanity.

And another posted this quote and photo of Robert Kennedy:

Finally today, I felt impatient with all the negativity. Everybody is scared. How could we not be?  I have thought more than once just this past month that the world may actually end in my lifetime, the way things look now. But all the verbal attacks and undermining, the incendiary comments, stereotyping,  judgment, and impulsivity, on all sides, just is not helpful. If your neighbor or friend rejects refugees out of fear, how does mocking that fear make anything better?  Why must we choose between housing our veterans and granting asylum to refugees?  Surely, if we call upon the best that is America, we can do both and more?

I posted on my own page today: “I need to look for articles on the GOOD that Muslims, Christians, and others do around the world. Comparing the harm that one group does, to the harm that other groups do, keeps our focus on dark, destruction, and pain. In order to really see one another in light, we have to shift our attention to the light.”

So I looked, and once again, other writers held me up:

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/55b65597e4b0224d8832d6f0

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/1655479

https://reason.com/archives/2015/04/29/where-are-all-the-good-muslims-around-yo

A lot of people quote Mr. Rogers these days, and rightly so.  Look for the helpers, his mom told him.  “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping.'”  We should take this advice, and not only look for the helpers, but try to be helpers, too.

look for helpers