Who we all are

This week I was reminded of a blog I originally published in November, 2016 and felt compelled to post it once more in light of the ongoing rift in our country.  In researching The Lace Makers, a novel I wrote five years ago, I realized that human beings endlessly categorize themselves into groups by gender, race, political affiliation, religious affiliation, financial status, and a host of others.  Yet, the further a person moves from recognizing the fact that we are all human beings, the more they can objectify anyone they see as different.

Who we are is evident in what we do over time.  What we say.  What we post.  What we believe.  Every single one of us is defined by our actions.  No one is ever going to perfect.  But to be aware of our ongoing ability to choose what has dignity, what has purpose, what has character can evolve us past division toward a greater wholeness, not only within ourselves, but with each other as well.

“Who we all are”

Originally published November 11, 2016

Yeah, it stinks bad.  And we all covered up in it, too.

Ain’t nobody clean.  Be nice to get clean though.

from the Civil War film, “Glory”

Years ago, I heard an incredible story about an anthropologist who worked with children in an African tribe.  He proposed a game in which he placed a basket of fruit near a tree and told the children that whoever got there first won the sweet reward.  Then, when he told them to run, the children joined hands and ran together so that they might reach the reward at the same time. 

While they then sat in a circle, enjoying the fruit, the anthropologist asked them, “Why did you run like that when one of you could have had all of the fruit for yourself?”

They replied, “Ubuntu…it means I am what I am because of who we are.  How can one of us be happy when the other ones are sad?”

When I teach yoga classes to children, we sit in circle because a circle has no beginning and no end.  No hierarchy.  No pecking order.  What our circle embodies is a sense of equality, a way for the children to see everyone’s place in the group as valuable and necessary; that without one person, the sphere would not be complete.  While every child is encouraged to speak, to voice an opinion, to contribute to the group from their own experience and perspective, I also encourage them to remember that we are stronger as a whole.

On election night, like so many other Americans, I was unable to sleep, tossing and turning until four in the morning.  I thought about the year and a half I spent researching the Civil War and the Holocaust in preparation for writing The Lace Makers, grimly realizing that history is beginning to repeat itself in ways we won’t fully recognize until the future unfolds.  When I finally accepted the outcome of the election, I burst into tears, not because the candidate for whom I had voted was defeated, but because of the undeniable rift in our country’s soul. The hatred and anger that motivated people on either side to make their choices.  The endless rhetoric, hypocrisy, fearmongering, and “my way is the only way” mentality of the president-elect that will continue to echo in our culture for years to come. 

However, my grief is not from fear.

I’m deeply saddened in much the same way I felt on the morning of 9/11, for when the Twin Towers fell to the ground, I burst into tears for our country, for I knew then that our nation would never be the same.  Now I’m concerned about the people I love who come from different cultures and backgrounds.  My heart goes out to people in their extended circles who have been attacked, demeaned, and verbally abused because their skin is a different color or they worship differently.  I’m concerned for my LGBTQ friends, for international relations, for our fragile environment, for a host of other things that connect us as human beings. 

It’s not been easy to teach yoga this week, but I’m doing the best I can to be a calming presence for my students.  I’m infinitely thankful for my meditation practice which allows me to connect to the peace that eternally resides deep within, a place that we all have, no matter our politics, our religion, our color or creed. 

At the end of class yesterday, I said to my students, “It’s good to be with people of like-heart.”

After they had left, a text message arrived from a dear friend who has differing political views.  I love you, Katie Belle Angie wrote.

Tears filled my eyes as sent back heart emojis and wrote You, too, for she and I know that love means we respect and embrace each other, even if we don’t see eye-to-eye.  That we don’t have to agree to be kind.  That we can be of like-heart, even during the times when we may not be of like-mind. 

Now, more than ever, I know more fully I am who I am because of who we all are in relationship to each other.

There have been many times in the past year when I’ve wanted to write commentary about the state of our political nation.  I’ve wanted to put my two cents in on a host of issues that have been talked to death.  Time and again I made the decision to remain quiet, not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because it wasn’t necessary. 

I was raised in close proximity to a man eerily similar to the president-elect.   I worked for people who echoed his bigotry and entitlement.  I’ve been assaulted by one who got away with it because he was allowed to escape accountability for his actions.  What I’ve discovered is that bullies often get their way.  That money greases the palms of injustice.  That political napalm is often heralded as a fresh start. 

But the story is not over yet…for more will always be revealed.  As I grieve for the state of our nation.  I’m deeply saddened by the generations of frustration, of anger and fear that brought us to this time in history when many of us will have to make the choice between what is easy and what is right.

I only pray that there are people who are brave enough to join hands and work together, knowing that the fruits of compassion and human kindness can heal even the deepest divide.