the f’ing hard work of being human

After today’s old-story news, I’m up late, thinking and writing and thought I’d share a little. Thank you for gifting your gaze and presence here. I hope you feel my insomniac-acal love:

How we live and how we treat one another–especially those we disagree with or cannot relate to–is “the work” we must do and work HARD at to create the new world we believe in. It is fu*#ing HARD work, like this fern that embedded in the human-made stone step, finding/making a way to live/thrive within the system he sprouted upon… a Rock system seemingly designed to deter Fern.

Fern is not denying the rock: Fern is nestled and sustained by the rock that for a spell of time did not offer support or cracks for Fern to grow. But look at Fern now. Look at Rock. Hmmm.

There are so many cracks around us to thrive–so many opportunities for us to serve and love people who are suffering and hurting and fearful.

Some nights I cannot sleep because of my awareness of collective human pain and fear, and my heart wanting to love upon people and contribute somehow to healing.

Like tonight.

But for now, I say good night. I pray for our entire earth and our residents, our species, this country that I live in and love so specially. And tomorrow I will love on someone and find a way to reduce someone’s suffering–if only for a fleeting moment–because that is the only thing I can somewhat control–MY presence and MY actions.

nightynight dear one xo

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my new american courage

found on a wall at the United Nations Building, New York City

“Courage faces fear and thereby masters it. Cowardice represses fear and is thereby mastered by it. Courageous men never lose the zest for living even though their life situation is zestless; cowardly men, overwhelmed by the uncertainties of life, lose the will to live. We must constantly build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.” ~ Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

My 6-year-old son heard news on radio of America bombing a village with women and children in it. He asked me, “America did that?” I said yes, America did. He said, “But I am America. I didn’t do that. It wasn’t me?” He held a question in his voice that pierced my heart. He said, “I wouldn’t do that!”

My heart flooded. Emotions I have been trying to avoid moved piercingly from my stomach to my heart and my throat. He saw as I felt tears roll down my cheeks.

I hugged him and said, “I know, me too. I am America too. It is so very sad.”

from the UN’s Universal Declaration of Rights

Our worldwide news and fears are immensely difficult to explain and process, to adults let alone young children.

So many of us seek to understand things that perhaps are not understandable or even to be understood.

In my heart I know I am America and I cannot withhold my heart and love from others who want to be America too.

Throughout our modern history, it has taken courage and tremendous human suffering to be and become America.

As I contemplate our future America, I wonder what would happen if America committed to collective courage and chose not to respond in actions, but to respond in love? What would happen if our government issued a formal “Love Letter” to the people who intend us pain, instead of bombs and more pain?

Risking appearing naive, I ask you to think and feel about this. What could that letter look like? I’m not suggesting sending a love letter in support of continued suffering, but rather a letter honoring the potential of a greater humanity, challenging them to rise to love.

A few years ago I went on a retreat where I found myself in the middle of a self-defense training. I hadn’t expected this, but I have curiosity for many things so I was curious to see what would happen.

The course leader began an attack demonstration with me. I was advised to stop her with my stance and my reaction. She challenged me and rushed at me in attack mode–with pain, ferocity and intensity in her eyes and body.

Even though I felt afraid, my first inclination was to open my arms to embrace her, even though she looked like she was about to hurt me.

I didn’t. I didn’t act with love. In that moment, my fear of others’ perception of me was greater than my convictions. Instead I tried to summon the stance and replicate the “hutt” noise she had demonstrated.

My imitation failed. My instincts still strong about the hug and smile thing, but again the risk of others’ poorly judging and criticizing me dominated my actions.

Love was never suggested as an appropriate response.

Again, the trainer came at me. This time I decided to sing opera, loudly. She didn’t like that either. Everyone else in our group laughed.

She came at me, over and over and I kept trying to find a response that would stop her, but I never could get it right, at least by her counsel or expectations. Indeed I did break her patterns, and surprise her.

For a few moments after the exercise–as she was pretend attacking others in the training–I was concerned that I was not aggressive or self-protective enough… that somehow my own safety was in jeopardy because I didn’t naturally have a fierce defensive barking response to protect me.

As days passed after that weekend, I realized that for me, my instinctual path of defense was love. To me, love was the most natural and centered response. Perhaps love would get me killed, but still, it feels like the most authentic way to be true to my own energy and the way I want to survive.

Strawberry Fields, New York City

I don’t think it my place to say that LOVE should be ALL of our first responses, but–as real as that feels in me as my own truth–I deeply wonder and imagine our world when the majority of humans find courage to choose love instead of more pain infliction.

I am an American immigrant. I came to this country in the 1970s. I became a US citizen by choice and conviction to choose America as my home and values, the place to birth and raise my children. I chose America because I believe we are a country that chooses to honor, respect and celebrate our differences.

As I look at my son, a child of the earth–American as his birthright– my American heart is wide open.

I hold steadfast courage and love in my convictions while intensely feeling the fear of the unknown and the unknowable. I can only take responsibility for my own actions.

I love America. I love all Americans. I love Americans who believe peace is the way through the fear. I love Americans who believe harming people who hurt “us” is the best way to love and protect our country. (I don’t condone or agree, but still as an American it is my obligation to love and respect them while respectfully disagreeing.)

I am grateful to be American. I am grateful for all the people–seen and unseen generations– all who have suffered and suffer still–who have brought us to this moment in history, a moment that has such possibility for love and courage.

I imagine.

I imagine we humans are becoming a bit more evolved. (Did you just notice the word LOVE is in there, nearly twice? I did.)

I pray sharing my story and words create ripples of love and contemplation, not division or pain. I don’t have the answers for anyone, except to commit to grow myself as a real aging–hopefully wisen-ing– contemplative thoughtful contributor to our new America.

(As a writer, sometimes I find enough courage to share my inner world outside of myself, despite my fears. Thank you for reading.)

with my courageous, aching, imaginative, yearning and love-filled eager-to-evolve heart,
❤ becky

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