Everywhere I turn, political views are being expressed. Some share their surprise, their discouragement, their anger, their fears, their sadness, their disgust, their disagreements, their “how could this happen?!?!?!”. Others share their hopes, their eagerness for change, their excitement. I don’t condemn the practice altogether. Sharing ideas is important; expressing and receiving views on public platforms, such as social media, exposes us to a variety of angles on common topics, and allows us to entertain the possibility that someone else might have a valid point, even if it is different from our own. From that, the possibility for growth is born. Sharing interpretations helps us make sense of the seemingly senseless.
Some of the political stances I’ve had the chance to hear and read stem from a deep, solid foundation based on facts, history, science, human nature, and a systemic understanding of the driving forces of our time. I have come across a variety of eloquently expressed, profound, and sensible political views that have allowed me to see the situation from angles I hadn’t considered – views I simply didn’t have the knowledge necessary to formulate. These interpretations all reinforce my belief that everything didn’t just happen overnight. The culmination of such major systemic disturbance is a process, and not the result of one person. Rather, we are all responsible. “They”, whoever “they” is, did not create this. “We”, “we” as a collective each have a role to play in the creation of the whole.
However, not all views are expressed as such. In fact, most views flooding the safe haven of social media result from a superficial understanding of a complex and multifaceted situation. And the general theme I observe is the perceived injustice in what has been “done to us”. This public expression of anger and blame attribution might make us feel like we are doing something to better the situation. After all, we are offering our wisdom publicly! In fact, what we are doing is distancing ourselves, making ourselves the “innocent”, while someone else is guilty and needs to right the wrong. It gives us a perceived sense of righteousness where something has been done to us, and “they” need to come clean and make things right again. It excuses us, making us feel like victims, yet we offer no course of action; it is not our responsibility. We go as far as posting on our Facebook feed just how depressing it is to read our Facebook feed, still feeling completely separate from the problem, never wondering for a second if there’s an active role we could take.
Tossing blame around can’t solve anything. It’s just impossible. Blame becomes a battle, and a battle is a game of force. The game of force is very simple physics. Anywhere force is applied, it is always, inevitably, met with resistance. And when there’s resistance, we need to push harder. Eventually, one side, despite their forceful efforts, can no longer resist, and surrenders to the force, no matter how brutal it might be. And that can only lead to one thing, powerlessness.
The “weak”, the surrendered, carry on; suffering under the power of the force. Eventually, momentum is regained and the desperation of the voiceless becomes stronger than the fear, or the oppression. The once-surrendered rise up, and the game of force resumes. It appears we are at one of those times. A time where the powerless, the voiceless, the minority, the forgotten, the invisible, those whose lives have suffered so greatly they are willing to risk everything at the thought of the “promise of change”, no matter what that change might entail. Those who supported the current unconventional “promise for change” aren’t completely misinformed, or unable to connect the dots, they are desperate for a better life, feel they have nothing to lose, and therefore are willing to risk it all.
That state of desperation does not arise out of nowhere. We create this state together. This state can only exist if we, as a collective, stop operating as one; if we are completely divided. And that, we are all responsible for. Is it possible that we need each other a little bit more? Is it possible we need a little more compassion and a little less judgement?
So coming back to the expression of political views, I could add my two cents to the sea of political views, but I don’t have eloquently stated political views to share. What I do have is the notion that if I’m not part of the solution, then I become part of the problem. So if I want to “be the change I want to see in the world”, as Ghandi so brilliantly suggests, what I really need to ask myself is: “How can I contribute to a lessening of the divide, the fear, and the hate? How can I show more love, and more compassion?”
I could sign petitions, put some groups together, walk the streets with signs, messages, and strong views. There is something truly beautiful about the action of collectively expressing the desire for positive change. But if I want to be completely honest and authentic, I need to remember, every day, that the real change comes from what I do when I’m at home. My real influence happens in my own home and in my own community. How do I teach my children to treat others? Equally as importantly, how do I treat others in my community, especially those who don’t necessarily think like me? How do I treat my children, and how do I teach them to treat me? (As it turns out, I had more than a few words to say about that … so the answer to this question had to be moved … here)
How do I teach my children to treat others?
What do I teach my small children about their friends? How do I react when they come home and tell me they’ve been teased, mocked, hit, excluded, or cheated? Do I condemn the other child, tell my child some kids are just mean and she doesn’t have to play with her. Do I teach her to walk away, and alienate her confused perpetrator? Do I teach her to “defend” herself and engage in the game of force?
Or do I support her, and accept all the emotions that ensue from the situation, allowing her to feel scared, hurt, angry, and sad. Once the feelings have subsided, do I make it my role to teach her? Do I tell her that when people hurt others, it’s likely because they themselves are hurting. Do I tell her that kids who think they are “bad” act “bad”? Do I tell her that to condemn that child, whether by labeling, walking away, or engaging in force, is to leave a wounded person feeling more wounded and confirming their speculation that perhaps they are worthless.
Do I encourage the divide, or do I make room for understanding, compassion, and inclusion? Do I teach them that what that kid might need is a little bit more love? Do I remind my child that we all make mistakes, that we’re all learning, and that there’s even a chance that poor child didn’t even realize they hurt you?
It’s not easy to do, and few things hurt more than to see your own child be hurt. But if adults need more love, compassion, understanding, and inclusion, perhaps it’s important to teach it to our kids.
How do I treat others in my community?
Do I condemn the different or do I try to understand it, embrace it? How do I treat the intoxicated man aimlessly wandering the streets of downtown? Am I angry that perhaps he’s receiving a welfare cheque and that he’s drunk or high, while I need to show up at work and contribute responsibly to earn a wage? Or do I wonder about the pain he must be feeling that needs to be numbed so badly he chooses the drugs, alcohol, and regular police pick-ups from the outdoor public bathrooms instead of a heated home, a loving family, and a rewarding job? Do I stop to consider that maybe he is not taking advantage of me and the taxes I pay? And that if he could, physically and emotionally, he would trade his position in a heartbeat? Do I entertain the possibility that maybe, in that moment, buying him a sandwich, giving him my gloves and a smile, might just be my contribution to the solving of global issues? That conceivably my small gesture could remind him of his own humanness just enough that he might make his way to a phone booth and call his estranged son to tell him he loves him. Do I dare believe that his son will then be inspired to talk to his teenage daughter that he too gave up on when she started experimenting with sex, drugs, and alcohol? And that daughter, who finally feels seen, will choose to seek the help she needs to build herself up again, and rediscover self-love and self-respect. And from that place, she will stop bullying the overweight girl at school, who will in turn find the will to live again, rip up the suicide notes, find the motivation to attend her classes again, and go on to become an eager researcher (perhaps an epigenesist following in the footsteps of Bruce Lipton ☺). She will rewrite the book on gene expression and eradicate cancer, saving the lives of children and adults, who without her would die too young. I choose to buy the sandwich, give the gloves, and smile!
We all could use a little more compassion, and like a pebble in the water, the ripple reaches far beyond what the pebble itself will ever know.
Let’s all be the pebble.
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