Talking To Strangers

Something very big is afoot. It bodes to utterly transform our entire humanity. And you are part of it.

People that are now in their late teen and early adulthood years are bringing something extraordinary to culture. Something unprecedented, inspired, and challenging.  They are bringing a deep and embodied understanding of what it is to be open to and embrace ‘the Other.’ Radical outliers, artists and social change mavericks have been touting this new paradigm for a while now. Justice, Equity, Diversity and Inclusion are the zeitgeist of the day. 

And just in the nick of time — as we in the U.S.A. as well as other countries around the world are mired in the culture wars of tribal polarization which threaten to unravel society, perhaps spectacularly.

I saw this potential new world in the safety video of the Delta flight I was on on this morning. I saw it in an Athletica catalog I leafed through yesterday. It’s showing up everywhere in popular culture (along with its opposite — groups of people defining their own tribes more explicitly . . . ). We’re not just talking about profound multi-culturalism, we are experimenting with doing it; with visioning what it actually looks and feels like — people of all races, ages, sexual orientation, and gender — living well together.

In my own world, I see it clearly in the Wilderness Guides Council, a network-based non-profit that was started thirty-seven years ago by a handful of fringy white folks in California who took people out on the land to fast in the age-old tradition of cultures all over the world. This organization is growing now, becoming more visible, and many voices of the younger people drawn to this work are demanding a change of mind, change of language; an awareness of sneaky unseen entitlement. It is rattling. I’m following their lead, allowing their new approach to enter me and deepen me. 

Because they are spot on.

It is my conviction (and I’m not alone here) that our capacity to widen our worldview to include all ‘others’ is the trajectory of evolution, so it’s not like we can ultimately thwart this trend. What young people bring always eventually gets integrated and becomes the new normal; these days much faster than in the days before industrialization and digital technology.

The corresponding movement toward re-defining and strengthening tribal boundaries is also important. As Terry Patten reminds us in his very interesting podcast conversation with social entrepreneur Tomas Björkman, humans evolved over tens of thousands of years in small bands. We are deeply wired to be part of a small tribe; and this evolutionary fact should not be ignored. For example, I am aware that the language of this blog contains certain ‘code’ words that will appeal to certain people, and make no sense or be a turn-off to others. I am speaking to my own tribe.

But our innate tribalism can be integrated into a larger multi-cultural context. Imagine a vast, global network of tribal circles that honor and understand each other enough, who find no need to make other tribes wrong or bad because they are very different. Yes there will be disagreement and conflict; but the nature of that conflict could be very, very different than it has ever been. We might not have to kill each other over ideology. It’s not an either/or equation. In fact, nature works this way, and works very well.

Now, on the everyday ground level, this big vision hits its threshold testing place where each of us is asked to learn how to be open to people we cannot understand, and whose values seem to trample on ours. Right now, in 2020, we are smack dab in the middle of a huge experiment. How we might pass this threshold? It is one of the oldest barriers in human behavior and thinking — demonizing the bad people. 

Today we have knowledge, tools and capacities that we have never had before. We have greater understanding of how the mind works (though ancient Tibetan Buddhists and others knew and still know much more than we do), of how the brain and nervous system works. We have connecting technologies that have revolutionized our exposure to the ‘other.’ Many of us have done a great deal of inner work, have seen our own shadows and blind spots and have grown our compassion and empathy, the work of sages and saintly people throughout the ages.

So I am standing on the side of possibility. In fact, of probability.

Last week, the third Soul Talks kicked off at Dave and Kris’ home. Twenty-five people showed up. The theme of this year’s three-session series was ‘Connecting Beyond Borders.’ Dave and I wanted to bring people together to share their views on the hard realities of talking to people you don’t agree with.

I was humbled by what I heard in this first meeting. People feeling lots of grief about what was happening in America. People angry that they couldn’t understand their own fathers, or sons-in-law, or childhood friends. People yearning to connect to others at a deeper level. People willing to look at their own dearly-held assumptions about what was ‘right.’ People deeply committed to the courage it takes to be still and listen to another’s point of view when it hurts to hear it. The evening opened a lot of energy up, opened hearts, and ruffled feathers. I sensed a hope, a new energy of possibility emerging.

Subsequently, one friend who had attended sent me a Washington Post opinion editorial by Arthur Brooks, a conservative, who gave the 2020 address to the National Prayer Breakfast last week. Another sent me an article by Buddist teacher and activist Rev. angel Kyodo Williams about inner work and social change. Each say critically important things for us to hear.

The urge, the imperative we feel to pass this threshold is strong. And let me be clear. The process is not easy. It takes courageous people (people like you because you are reading this blog still) who are willing to put their weight on the side of self-examination and courageous outreach for a tipping point to occur.

I am making a strong call for the kind of activism that will absolutely make the most profound difference in this threshold time: 1. do your inner work, and 2. learn how to talk to someone with whom you disagree.

And then let’s watch what happens.

Sacred Theater of the Holy

In early December this year I noticed I felt empty, uninspired, shallow. It had crept up on me, like invisible slowly-accumluating dust as I went about my daily life, until I had a conversation with a friend and in listening to his admissions of feelings of heavy numbness, realized I feel similarly.

It’s winter and the days are monochrome and brief. News of the world clanks around in my heart with its terrible sharp edges. And Christmas is coming.

I’ve historically had the attitude of a surly teenager toward Christmas, like a friend who so poetically quipped, “Christmas is kind of on my shit list.” Long ago I was disillusioned out of the magic it held for me as a child. In those days, I crafted gifts for everyone, immersing myself in the unfettered creativity of time-without-a-job. Then gift giving grew into more of an unquestioned obligation and the noise of holiday sale advertising entered my awareness. All too soon I no longer had the luxury of open time and the stories of Christmas were diminished by experiences of a larger world.

It was such a heartbreak, I guess, that I decided to more or less shut it out, like a former lover.

I rebelled and didn’t give gifts, solely because I thought I had to. I dutifully went to Christmas concerts and participated in holiday parties and yes, sometimes the magic appeared. But I’d be damned if I was going to count on it!

I knew that there were so many people who were working very hard to create Christmas magic for others, often becoming quite stressed out in the process. Some were alone and their aloneness was amplified tenfold by cozy gatherings they were not part of. Others had it right – some loved the holidays — loved creating and preparing, loved shopping and cooking for the ones they love. They were the lucky ones, I thought.

Now in my more mature years, I get that life is what you make of it, and this applies especially to Christmas. I’ve outgrown my teenage surliness but somehow Christmas still presents me with a weird ‘meh’, underneath which there is a longing. (It’s somewhat embarrassing to admit this. I feel like I have a Christmas disability or something.)

So that conversation with a friend got me thinking.

What if I reached out and connected to Christmas this year? What if I courted Christ Consciousness? What if I got over myself and stop expecting it to come to me?

Relationship, after all, means taking a risk and putting yourself out there. I’m good at being a wallflower. What if I initiate the dance?

But how?

When I take people on medicine walks, I sometimes call it ‘sacred theater.’ We go out, choosing a particular frame of mind: like being a child where everything is talking to us in the language of synchronicity and intuition. Beauty arrests us, we open and can receive messages that we can’t hear in the work a day world. One part of us knows the ants are not really telling us that we’re never alone, and another part understands the ants instantly and perfectly.

Being willing to slow down and play is what opens the door to the sacred.

Perhaps I can simply engage the modern rituals of Christmas as if I’m on a medicine walk . . . following my intuition, suspending judgement, listening in metaphor, open to beauty.

It tickles me because just now, as I write, I feel this little flame in my heart — a laughing kind of joy.

Ha. I’ve made eye contact.

Let’s see what unfolds.

Scared Shitless of Feeling and Other Yummy Dishes

I went on my usual walk/run up Rattlesnake Gulch to visit my coffin rock a few mornings ago. I wanted to try out my new barefoot running shoes. At the store, I was uncertain about whether or not to buy them, full price. One friend had been running in these kinds of shoes and loved them. She was training for marathons. Another friend assured me the hype about barefoot running had been disproved and was afraid I would bruise my soles.

When I tried them on, they slipped on like a glove and felt so light that I didn’t want to take them off. So I bought them.

Starting off up the dirt trail, I felt the rocks underfoot. I recalled reading in Katie Bowman’s book Alignment Matters that heavily fortified footwear has desensitized our feet — the part of our body that is our foundational contact point with earth. Our feet evolved to have many, many bones and little muscles to help us move well in our upright stance. Our feet are designed give our body important sensory feedback. We also receive energetic nourishment from the earth’s electro-magnetic field through our feet.

Reflexology teaches there are many areas in our feet that contain reflex points that correspond to different body organs and systems. Applying pressure to these specific points can have therapeutic effects on the corresponding organs and systems.

Was I giving myself a reflexology treatment by walking up this trail?

I noticed how aware I felt of the ground. I could feel the pitch and cant. I could feel the texture of small or big or no rocks. My feet were amazed. So much going on!

The next day my feet were sore — like having worked out at the gym. It will take a while for my feet to get used to so much stimulation; its small muscles having to work like never before. Let me be clear that if you are walking ten miles over sharp rocks carrying a heavy pack, shoes with big thick soles is smart.

Sitting on my coffin rock I saw a giant patch of stinging nettle not far to my left. I recently learned the sting of stinging nettle is purported to reduce inflammation. And its leaves are delicious and nutritious sautéed. Walking over to the patch, I ran my hands through the leaves. My finger joints have been sore a lot this past year from harder climbing. I didn’t get stung very much which surprised and disappointed me slightly. But I did feel a bit of sting. It felt kind of good.

I imagine that because I believe the stinging reduces inflammation that the sensation feels good. The meaning I made no doubt influenced my experience.

I picked a bunch of leaves to take home with me.

All the forays into welcoming the uncomfortable that morning really made me think about much we protect ourselves from painful feeling, especially in American culture. Americans are scared shitless of feeling. We don’t want to be too hot, or too cold. We don’t want to be embarrassed or guilty or tread on. We want to be happy and pursue happiness. We want our dreams fulfilled, as we were taught they could be in the United States of America — land of the free, home of the brave.

I’m being dramatic to make a point.

I get that not wanting to feel pain is a smart move. I don’t want to feel pain. But, I do want to feel alive. I want to feel all of what it means to be human. I know that includes the feelings that hurt sometimes.

And I come from a place of privilege in that point of view. To be willing to fully feel is not so easy if you score high on the Adverse Childhood Experience test. To be able to fully feel in this case takes going back and working out hard stuff from earlier years that was too much at the time. The only way to survive was to armor yourself from the pain. Smart response. 

But, like super insulated shoes, that armor now also keeps a person from feeling. It also may keep one from feeling one’s self — who you are, what you want, what you are here to do. It may keep you from feeling others, from direct contact. Perhaps you relate to others through a filter of heavy armor. 

But how would you even know if you are protecting yourself? By now, it’s the water you swim in. You can’t feel the armor.

Some clues that you are not able to fully feel your feelings are depression, lack of engagement with life, a sense of meaninglessness.

This is a giant subject, and here I want to simply point to the protection we walk around with that we don’t know is there. Maybe, now that we are grown ups with more resources and strength, it’s as simple as asking the question: “How do I armor myself? What does this armor look like, feel like? Where in my body is it?

Food for thought.

I sautéed up the stinging nettle with mushrooms and eggs and a side of avocado and lime cilantro salsa for a late breakfast.

It tasted awesome.