Creating the Space to Grow

I’ll be honest, this week has been the hardest yet for me, since the pandemic  closed our country. I have read more posts,  listened to more YouTube clips, heard more heartbreak than I ever dreamt possible. The thing that is breaking my heart, is the blame. The finger pointing. The “I’m right and you’re wrong” attitude.

Growing up, my parents had one practice that frustrated my sisters and me. They must have hated arguing! because if ANYone raised their voice, we were told that we  had to “calm ourselves before we could continue the argument.” Of course the strategy worked! By the time we were calm, the significance of the issue had lost its steam, and more often than not, there was no longer an ‘issue.’

I am not condoning ‘ignoring an issue,’ or leaving one unresolved. In fact, it took a lot of work for me to learn that you don’t lose a person just by loudly expressing your true feelings.

But somewhere in the process of ‘relearning and revamping’ a childhood value, I came to treasure the WORTH of both sides…

I’ve learned that when faced with a conflict, the best thing we do is “walk away and cool off…” even while we may physically stay close by. We KNOW the discussion isn’t over… but we honor the love beneath the differences enough to offer each other the safe space we both need.

And why do we need that safe space?

To protect our vulnerable humanness.

To respect the other’s perspective.

Back in March, when we first faced the unknowns of the pandemic and subsequent quarantine, humankind put its best foot forward in numerous acts of selflessness and generosity. Many still are.

But as stress does, we humans all too soon fall back into ‘what is familiar’ and sometimes even subconsciously, most comfortable.

That is what is breaking my heart, and I imagine, most of yours.

When the tea kettle full of water reaches the boiling point, the whistle goes off.

It continues until someone turns down the heat.

If the kettle was too full to begin with, it boils over, making a mess of the stove…

None of us can claim to understand another one’s pain, unless we have walked the same path.

I can only try to imagine, by listening. And in order to listen, I probably have to ask… “What is it like for you?“

I cannot be afraid to listen. I cannot run from hearing about someone else’s struggle and pain.  

I believe it is the ONLY way to turn off the heat that makes my fellow humans scream out in pain and anguish in ways beyond my understanding. We will continue to boil over as a city, a nation, as a human race… until we somehow lower the level of injustice that pervades so many nooks and crannies of society.

It is not about good and bad people. It is about a nation that is trying to survive amidst pain, inequality, yelling and pointing fingers that has done nothing more than further divide.

I hated when my parents made us “walk away” and cool down… But I don’t know that my relationships with my siblings would be as genuine as they are today, if we had had it any other way. There was no room for “my way” in a household of 8.

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No more than there is room for an “Us and Then” in a nation of 5 million indigenous people and 323,239,523 immigrants and their descendants*.

It is not time for me to convince anyone to think my way. Rather, it is time for me and hopefully each of us, to take that bold step and ask,  What is it like for you?

With courage and compassion, the same courage and compassion that were our constant companions in the first weeks of the pandemic, we may break the cycle that divides us, and join as one voice to rebuild a kinder, gentler more just society.

I invite anyone who reads this, to share  “What it’s like for you…” Though I may not be able to relate, I certainly can listen and try to understand… Because I care about US.

*Population of United States in 2019