I have studied religion, the Good Book, philosophies.  I’ve obtained academic degrees in the fields of education, deaf education, and counseling. I have worked in the fields of ministry, counseling, and education.  I’ve taught children who have suffered sexual abuse, verbal abuse, and neglect.  I’ve taught children who cannot hear, cannot speak, cannot imagine anything but what comes in black and white.  I’ve taught children who scream all
day, children who cry all day, children who cannot speak English, children who know not how to play without hitting and cursing.  And I have worked with countless adults who have no idea what they love, who they love, or how to live a life that is purposeful and fulfilling.  I have worked with the jobless, the homeless, the aged refugees, and teen parents.  I have walked alongside of the suicidal and the depressed ones who know not how to find lightness of spirit.

And I have done my own inner work… the work that rises out of sleepless, dark nights.  I have looked into the face of my demons, had them spit upon me, torment me, and pull me deeper into the false beliefs that they own me and because of that there is no goodness or worth in me.

And I’m wondering how do we each find our way and who teaches us, who guides us toward our own sacred ground?  I have lived a life of blessing that is full of voices that nurture and heal and hold out hope.  I have the joy of parents who wanted me, loved me and while well into their seventies they still pray for my life and my dreams.  I have friends who are true, who offer words and music and laughter and soulful wisdom that keep the flame flickering.  And yet, so much of my tending has been with those who have not had such beginnings or nourishment.  So how might we, as individuals and as a society, more carefully attend to these dear ones?  We have systems in place.  We have non-profit organizations.  We have churches and schools.  We have volunteers.  We have public service organizations, social workers, counselors, medical teams.  We have lots and lots of really valuable, loving, well-trained professionals everywhere giving of their time, talents, and expertise… giving of their lives…to the service of others.  And yet… we still have poverty in our nation, we still have homeless sisters and brothers; we still have an epidemic of depression. There is murder each and every day. Children lose their beautiful innocence well before they go off to kindergarten, and our treasured elders line hallways of their own homeless shelters yearning to be seen and loved.
 
There is deep need spinning in the human soul. And it is here we must find ourselves. It is here we must take ourselves. What feeds you?  No.  I’m not talking about hobbies or friends or vacations.  I’m talking about if everything was stripped away from you and you were bare naked in mind, body, and spirit…what would sustain you?  What would give you life in the purest sense of the word? Because, this is the conversation I believe we must bring to the forefront.  The strange powers of the world will tell you that your happiness is wrapped up in what you see on television and in the local buy-it-cheap store.  Hollywood will tell you that your joy will come in the form of big bucks, glitzy clothes and bodies, and super stardom.  The government will tell you that it comes in the form of power and the drive to always be the best, the most competitive, and to be a member of the wealthiest, the most blessed nation in the world.  The church will tell you your happiness will rest on certain beliefs and they will also tell you that if you don’t believe as they do… your misery will be eternal.  There are voices everywhere, billions of books, and ongoing ads that will tell you how to be happy and how to live a fulfilled life.  But what do you know beyond what you are being told?

I don’t presume to have answers.  I am still a seeker myself.  But I am confused by the amount of suffering I witness in the land of the free, and I realize time and again that we aren’t truly free until we make peace within our own souls.  What might happen if in schools we began to offer spaces of conversation with our youngest
about who they are and what matters to them?  What if classes were taught on what it is to feel and to think and how worthy it is to seek understanding of our truest selves for our own good and the good of others?  What might shift if the church were to honor the Divine light in everyone? What could give way if we each eliminated as much negativity as possible and in place added gratitude, beauty, silence, and generosity?  What might happen if we each spent as much time and energy on becoming ourselves as we do on trying to be something or someone we are not?  We are losing each other because we have lost ourselves.  Isn’t it time to figure out what we can put down and what we need to take up?  Can’t we agree that we have tried for lifetimes to make peace with war, to improve systems with more systems, to give more power to the powerful, to judge rather than seek understanding, to place blame rather than do our own work?  Can’t we agree that these practices are still in place and that humankind continues to suffer?  Can we please open the door to risking what is broken for something that heals?  Can we please begin to let go of what continues to tear us apart for all that can possibly begin to unite us as people who are not fearful of the ultimate goodness of our humanity.

Beneath the armor we think we must wear, there is a vulnerability much more secure. 
Let’s meet there.

It could have been 2:00 in the afternoon, and the theater could have been filled with folks who came out to watch a movie about the migration of butterflies.  We all know that there is no rhyme or reason to where or when violence occurs.  The best among us, missionaries, peacemakers, and public servants, who leave their homes and families for the love of others, have been murdered for their kindness and generous spirits.  Open fire has taken place in sacred spaces of worship, in hospitals, and in Amish schoolhouses.  Elders, mothers, babies, sons, teachers, healers have been murdered time and again on bright sunny days when life was good.
 
And we watch the news, and we shake our heads. We cry.  We ache.  We blame. We try to understand.  We
fight the laws that enable the insanity to continue. We also lock our doors tighter and grow more and more fearful of those we do not know… the stranger, the one somehow different from our close-knit kin.  And then, we go on.  The shock wears off as the days go by.  We shop. We travel.  We go to school.  We fuss about what to eat or what to wear, and we argue with those we love. 
We are blessed with the gift of resiliency and the human spirit rises up
in the most overwhelming circumstances to embrace new days, new opportunities,
and challenges.

But might we question for a moment the human thirst for violence?  Might we ask what pulls us into creating, supporting, purchasing, glamorizing, and even enjoying that which is violent?  We spend our money, we celebrate life occasions, we give of our time to sit alongside of the boxing ring, the bull ring, the latest Hollywood multi-million dollar flick, and we are awed by the gunfire, the bloodshed, the gore, and the ultimate death of the villains who are deemed solely responsible for the need to respond with more violence.  The good guy violence is revered when it silences the bad guy violence.
 
Somewhere, today, a mother is giving birth to a bad guy. She may or may not love him or her from the very beginning.  They may or may not have money, food, safety.  They may or may not be well educated.  Perhaps they live under a thatched roof or near the sea.  Maybe they have guns in their home that she will teach early on how to use.  Or perhaps in the evening they sit together and quietly read the sacred texts.  But no matter the
circumstance, this child was born holy and wholly.  This child was born as gift.  Until we as parents, as individuals, as societies, as nations, as the world find our way back to seeing the Divinity in one another and in ourselves…
until we can decide that killing perpetuates killing… and that violence begets violence, we will continue to bury the murdered and secure our lives with bullets rather than peace.  We are making our choices.  We are teaching each other to love and to hate.  Surely there is something deeper and wiser we have yet to consider.


 

What happened?  And when exactly did it happen that priorities and sensibilities became warped and
tangled and beyond understanding? 
Who decided to choose and impose on others the power of fear over the power of love?  Who says to the
generous heart, “Your giving is alarming and therefore cease in such merriment?”  Who says to flowers,
“Bloom only from nine to ten?”

All of my life… yes, from my creation… I have been filled with wild imaginings.  I have believed in goodness and kindness.  I have followed dreams.  I have trusted in the Divine essence that blesses and heals.  I have always leaned into beautiful creations, tried to honor my own, and desired to always live in ways that called others into their own realm of loving light.  And I have witnessed the joy in others by living my life purely, wholly, with grace and with grit… for this is life, by the way, and there are cycles and seasons.  I pray that my life means something
more than simply to me.  Isn’t there something worthy in my happiness adding to yours?  In my pain aiding in your courage to embrace your own?  Isn’t there merit in the work of my soul that somehow spills over into the world’s work and blessing?
 
Recently, the world has tried again to clip my wings. I was told that such wide open wanderings and wide-eyed generosity is a liability.  I was told to unpaint my room, to back up, to pack up, and to stop offering others such expansive ideas and imagery.  It’s a ‘check in/check out’philosophy… a hurry up, do it fast and furious philosophy.  Soulful soaking?  Patient presence?  Mindful listening?  What kind of jargon is that?  Just punch
the clock, play by the rules, give no more than is necessary, and for the sake of everyone around you who has mastered this… do get with the program. (They whisper daily in my ears, “There is nothing you can do to change this.  There is nothing you can do except your minimum.”)

Meanwhile, I continue to be distracted by the fact that the children want to play, the mourners seek comfort, and the rainbow has risen out of rain.