Today I was ready to watch the situation, to observe the violence, to search deeply within for the big picture, the spiritual picture.
My humanity wants to believe that we are in isolated moments, certain to end, and end soon. But when I look at the full story, I think of Brene Brown. “We are caught in a storm, a shit shame storm.” Worse.
I see bullies on the playground. I see desperation. I see hate and division. I see a nation, a world full of people who need to be heard and understood, hugged and loved. How do we move from the visual of a third world coup and elevate to the spiritual space of “heard, hugged and loved”?
When I ask the questions, it is like being in a silent canyon. The questions get louder and echo. The answers are illusive. Fear hops onto the sound, tries to bore in through the eardrum. Fear is the opposite of love.
I have spent enough time studying the leadership, listening to the psychology, grasping how a young child can be molded and mentored into dictatorship and power. I truly have empathy. I can get into the head of someone who has never felt loved from the emotional realm, who never developed that part of self.
I can also wiggle my way into empathy for the group that rallies around a bully, for the power, but also for the fear that the leader could shift his target. The struggle. Staying out of the line of fire.
When we went to Germany for Tina’s wedding, there was talk about her grandfather who was a Nazi in the war. Instantly, the Western born mind jumps to judgement. Yet, the story unfolded that the choices were “become a Nazi” or “have your entire family murdered by the Nazis”. Join or die. Worse, join or watch your family die. Mike drop.
I hope the empathy that I felt in the moment of hearing that story can echo in the canyon.
Ultimately, the wave of hate groups and supremacy and conspiracy theorists rise from ignorance, lack of power, and fear. Can I see myself hugging the leadership, hearing their childhood pain and abuse, understanding the (in my judgment, misguided) path?
Deep breath. It is a leap.
I can separate myself from the planet. Hug the planet. Beam love. I can find empathy and compassion in the biggest picture.
The echo pings against the walls of the canyon. The sound is rising. The pictures are flashing on the screen, escalating. I turn away… not my canyon, not my movie.
I am grateful. I am so thankful that my role is this one. I have gratitude that this is the part I play in the act, and not the others. Those look really hard and incredibly painful, internally. I am so happy to be “me”. I can work on myself, on my vision and my work, and radiate love.
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