Clinging to What Is Good
"Cover me, cover me, cover me 'till I'm gone."
I've been listening to these lyrics, from Dave Matthews Band's "Sweet," over and over again during the past week or so. In the midst of the cold and gray days that late fall brings in New England, little pleasures like folk music and warm Spanish lattes keep me going--reminders of joy and goodness even when life's abundance seems to be covered in a jacket of dreary darkness.
It is the day after Election Day, and though I admit that I breathed a great sigh of relief upon Obama's reelection, I must confess that this election season--and perhaps the four years between 2008 and today--has left me weary. Exerting enough mental energy to find clarity and hope through political hatred and divisiveness has proved itself immensely difficult. I, like many of other fellow Americans with whom I am in relationship, am tired. Tired of the ads, the tactics, the jargon, and the cutthroat climate of "either/or" that this election season has brought. When I step outside of the safety and comfort that I experience in the idealistic intentional community and workplace where I spend my days and into the world of endless chatter about party platforms and popularity contests, I experience confusion and disillusionment. The polarization of our nation and its effect on our ability to be human beings of compassion and tolerance is disheartening. Did we miss something in kindergarten when we learned about the importance of respecting others even when they think differently than we do? There is so much back-and-forth tongue-lashing that it seems to me as though there is little room to actually get the work done that needs so desperately to be done: work on realities like climate change, poverty, education, you name it.
If there is anything I have been assured of during my time in Boston thus far, it is that everything is connected. Internal conflict leads to conflict between neighbors. Self-loathing leads to loathing of others. And inversely, self-love and self-care leads to healing of communities, and directs energy toward the redemption of the world. I am immensely grateful for the prophets whom I am surrounded by in this program. It may sound cheesy, naming them as such, but I have become deeply aware of the truth that is spoken all around me, in different faces, spiritual expressions, and cultures. Truth and power are by no means limited to a two-party democracy; they are not red versus blue, but rather a beautiful myriad of colors and shapes. I think that when we begin to realize this, the work of rebuilding becomes immensely effective.
I am not sure how we will begin to wade through this mess of ideology and compartmentalization, but it is my hope and prayer that we gain the wisdom to sort through the information that we are flooded with each and every day; I pray that we lean into the conviction our hearts and the critical thinking of our minds. And I pray that we may cling to those things that are good--warm food (both literally and figuratively) on our tables and dear ones around us, and the opportunity to extend the table of abundant life and love to all: Democrats, Republicans, old, young, gay, straight, educated, wealthy, poor, black, white, short, tall, introverted, extroverted, emotionally available, emotionally detached, surviving, thriving, religiously affiliated, religiously unaffiliated, lost, and found. May we have the willingness to confront our own brokenness so that we may be more finely tuned instruments of peace for the world.
I've been listening to these lyrics, from Dave Matthews Band's "Sweet," over and over again during the past week or so. In the midst of the cold and gray days that late fall brings in New England, little pleasures like folk music and warm Spanish lattes keep me going--reminders of joy and goodness even when life's abundance seems to be covered in a jacket of dreary darkness.
It is the day after Election Day, and though I admit that I breathed a great sigh of relief upon Obama's reelection, I must confess that this election season--and perhaps the four years between 2008 and today--has left me weary. Exerting enough mental energy to find clarity and hope through political hatred and divisiveness has proved itself immensely difficult. I, like many of other fellow Americans with whom I am in relationship, am tired. Tired of the ads, the tactics, the jargon, and the cutthroat climate of "either/or" that this election season has brought. When I step outside of the safety and comfort that I experience in the idealistic intentional community and workplace where I spend my days and into the world of endless chatter about party platforms and popularity contests, I experience confusion and disillusionment. The polarization of our nation and its effect on our ability to be human beings of compassion and tolerance is disheartening. Did we miss something in kindergarten when we learned about the importance of respecting others even when they think differently than we do? There is so much back-and-forth tongue-lashing that it seems to me as though there is little room to actually get the work done that needs so desperately to be done: work on realities like climate change, poverty, education, you name it.
If there is anything I have been assured of during my time in Boston thus far, it is that everything is connected. Internal conflict leads to conflict between neighbors. Self-loathing leads to loathing of others. And inversely, self-love and self-care leads to healing of communities, and directs energy toward the redemption of the world. I am immensely grateful for the prophets whom I am surrounded by in this program. It may sound cheesy, naming them as such, but I have become deeply aware of the truth that is spoken all around me, in different faces, spiritual expressions, and cultures. Truth and power are by no means limited to a two-party democracy; they are not red versus blue, but rather a beautiful myriad of colors and shapes. I think that when we begin to realize this, the work of rebuilding becomes immensely effective.
I am not sure how we will begin to wade through this mess of ideology and compartmentalization, but it is my hope and prayer that we gain the wisdom to sort through the information that we are flooded with each and every day; I pray that we lean into the conviction our hearts and the critical thinking of our minds. And I pray that we may cling to those things that are good--warm food (both literally and figuratively) on our tables and dear ones around us, and the opportunity to extend the table of abundant life and love to all: Democrats, Republicans, old, young, gay, straight, educated, wealthy, poor, black, white, short, tall, introverted, extroverted, emotionally available, emotionally detached, surviving, thriving, religiously affiliated, religiously unaffiliated, lost, and found. May we have the willingness to confront our own brokenness so that we may be more finely tuned instruments of peace for the world.
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