relery.untamed
Open Hearts Open Minds
What does it look like to create a life and a faith centered on shrinking fences smaller and building tables longer? To kick down the slabs of wood dug in the ground side-by-side and cut the wires woven together, creating the divide that was put in place for protection. If we think about the purpose of a fence - what is it for? To guard; to separate “what is mine and what is not mine”; to keep intruders out. Fences provide a sense of safety. The fences that protect our homes also mimic the kinds of fences that protect our hearts, our identities, our beliefs, and our opinions about the way in which we and others choose to live our lives. Living in the space between fences is safe. We can sleep at night knowing that the chances for break-in are small; that people are likely only going to peer in from the outside because it would take a LOT of work to climb over. And I’m not saying that fences aren’t necessary sometimes. Unfortunately, for a multitude of reasons, there are many physical and emotional boundaries that need to be put in place to protect ourselves and our loved ones. But I do believe that sometimes our fences are a little too high, a little too boarded up, and a little too inflexible. We spend a LOT of time looking in on everyone else’s property from the outside. Judging based on appearance, what we’ve heard, and what we take in with all of our survival senses; instinctively developing a position on where we stand relative to what we are observing. We all fall victim to this - I know I do, and I hate how uncontrollable that feels sometimes. But what does a world look like where it would be common practice to lean in to the curiosity we feel as we peer through the gaps in our fences with a desire to bridge the spaces and move closer to one another? Intentionally and willingly. To embrace differences and smile at the challenges they may pose because it’s uncomfortable. What would it look like if we could learn to listen and empathize with one another, regardless of our differences? And what about if we didn’t offend so damn easily? A group of 6 of us sat in a circle around our hostel room in Dublin, all from different parts of the world: Argentina, Texas, the Philippines, and Andrea and I from Michigan. Our friends we met from Argentina invited us to have Mate’ with them (I had to say this at least 12 times before I got it right because Sophia's accent was beautiful and thick). Mate’ is essentially steeped herbal leaves - much like tea - prepared in a calabash gourd and served with a metal straw. They explained that every night back home in Argentina, they meet with family and friends for dinner followed by Mate’, spending about an hour handing it from person to person after taking one full sip. The gourd is passed until the reserve of hot water is gone, which they make sure to prepare a surplus of to maximize the amount of time spent with one another and encourage slow turn-taking. I can’t tell you how excited I was to be invited to join this daily tradition that they brought along with them. It translated to me as, “Hey, we’d love to share this experience with you of drinking water that tastes like burnt wood through this super flaming hot metal straw that you’re going to burn your lips and tongue on when you take a sip - will you please join us? Because this is important to us and we want to spend intentional time learning more about you.” My eyes lit up and we nestled into a spot on top of our bunks, close enough to be at arms-length. We spent over an hour asking each other questions about what life looks like where we live, what we do for a living, what type of climates we live in, and what we do for fun. They shared that their communities go to work late in the mornings, return in early evenings, gather for dinner and Mate’ around 10 PM and head to the disco every night until about 3:00-4:00 in the morning. I questioned if I could ever survive living there on the mere thought of mass sleep deprivation. Life was work, community, dance, sleep (a little), repeat. And they loved every bit of it. They were a few of the kindest and most gentle people I had ever met. When they talked to us, they looked us in the eyes. They kissed our cheeks with greetings and goodbyes. They hugged us like family. I remember thinking….”I wish we were this intentional back home. I wish we invited everyone into our circles, passed around tea with a straw for an hour with no distractions, asking each other about how we are and what’s going on in our lives.” It was beautiful. What if we could all adapt to a similar way of life that invited people to sit at our tables, no matter where they're from or what they do? Desperate to listen to lives lived by people who have seen the greatest beauty and the most disgusting ugliness in the world. Embracing people who have climbed to the peak of the mountains but who have also walked through the fire and come out with many burns, lungs full, and eyes blurred- but alive to share the story and how it changed them from the inside-out. We need more of those kinds of people at our tables-because their stories change us, too. I idealize the image of building a life and a faith grounded on breaking down the unnecessary divides we build and replacing them with tables where all are welcome. The longer and wider, the better. Each seat labeled with a personalized name; there is room for everyone. The atheist. the Christian, the Buddhist, the all-star, the addict, the priest, the rich, the poor, the homeless, the gay/bisexual/transgender/lesbian, the famous, the outcasts. Any and all abilities, colors, cultures, races, titles. Republicans, Democrats, and the non-voting. Even the ones who don’t like me. In a perfect world, everyone would take off their shoes and jackets, smile at one another and sit down; stare into the eyes of strangers and share their lives with the exchange of, “I hear you, and I see you.” We would hold hands with those who cannot see so they can feel. We would share hugs and tears and struggles and triumphs and colossal mess-ups and success and the complete and utter mistakes that cost us everything. We would be intentional to create a safe space that allows psychological safety to exist for every single person. Where whatever we share would cost us nothing and we wouldn't be rejected for simply being human. A place where wounds could be exposed and redemption could be celebrated and healing could begin. A place where similarities could be examined and connection could be created - but more importantly, where differences could surface. Opinions and beliefs that would cause discomfort, forcing our internal voices say “I can’t believe they did that….or would think that….” But what an extraordinarily powerful platform to stand on that now grants us the opportunity to ask better questions that can help us understand and reshape our initial responses. There’s a reason why differences exist in the first place - whether by product of our surroundings, personal experiences or backgrounds, individual personalities, teachings, and even sometimes can be due to our own or others' ignorance or built defenses. But dare I say it's likely that we're all a little ignorant when it comes to understanding others, and it can be death-threatening to our identities when someone taps on the cages of our hearts. There’s so many factors that collaborate in shaping who people are, why we respond or think the way we do, and make the millions of choices we make that cannot be fully understood by other humans. One of the best things we can do to better understand each other is to approach with openness to listen and to receive - without it meaning that it has to change A THING about what we think or feel. Or maybe it does and should. But either way, it might help us empathize with, appreciate others and ourselves a heck of a lot more. We say we want life to look this way. We “like” and “love” instagram posts on topics that scream for unity and collaboration, and we read books that are inspiring and paint examples of how people move towards these ideas daily through life works and brave conversations. We even tell ourselves that “it shouldn’t be that hard.” And that’s true. It doesn't seem that hard when we look around us at the tables we’ve already created, filled with familiar faces, beliefs that align with our own, common interests and perspectives and goals. We claim them to be inclusive; not exclusive. But all the sudden someone pulls out a chair and sits at your table who massively shakes things up. What then? When we strip everything we believe down and expose the core of who we are and what we care about; forget the rules and the practices, the verbiage, the bible verses, the customs, the political stances, the labels, degrees, and colors of our skin -- forget all of it for a second and ask yourself, “What matters to me? If I had nothing else, what would I truly care about?” I would like to think most people might discover that with nothing left to cloud vision or judgment, answers like, “people, family, love, purpose, relationship...” and other heart-centered values would surface. I think that’s because human connection is such a gift that we get to experience in this life. For whatever reason we are here, if any at all, we get to have relationships with one other. We get to create them, grow them, sustain them, lose them, rebuild them, evolve them, and deepen them everyday. I think it’s important to detach ourselves sometimes, not to throw away what we believe or hold close to. But to see without bias or situational influence so that we can be more relatable to others. Because we desperately need to be. We need to love each other better. We are living scared. Responding scared. Acting out in fear. And quite honestly, destroying each other because of it. Recent news highlighting cases like Ahmaud Arbery's murder while out for a run, posing no threat other than his skin color to two armed white men that he didn't stand a chance against. Ahmaud running scared, his killers shooting in response to what could be argued as the unfortunate effects of systematic racism. Fear can look a lot like hate without taking a hard look inside to understand where strong responses come from. Absolutely zero justification for this horrible crime and the beautiful life it took -- and this isn't even close to the first or last time something like this has or will ever happen again. How do we make it stop? I recently watched the short series "Waco" on Netflix during this stay-at-home order (I'm not one to watch TV, but this was too good to pass up). It is based off of a true-story, and gut-wrenchingly heartbreaking. It outlines a religious group of individuals participating in what would appear as "cult-like" practices justified by their faith, congregated together in a large gathering home in the middle of Waco, Texas. No harm or bother to anyone, with quite a vibrant family - highlighting the dynamics of celebrations and children playing, laughing, a lot of love and deep care for one another. Legal forces caught wind that there may have been illegal weapons within the home, growing suspicion of the groups' leader, David. After doing their research, David began to pose as a threat to the law on accounts of flirting with state regulations of under-age sex and marriage, and ways of life that weren't widely accepted outside of their religious community. Some of these customs included engaging in sex with and marriage to young girls ages 14-16 by David (and David, only) that were approved with consent by their parents due to the belief that David was "The Chosen One" whom God spoke to. Rules and behaviors by David that appear much more like a manipulative abuse of power being exercised on vulnerable populations than anything spiritual. But the power of believing in something superior can change you and overtake you. It can fill you with confidence and enlightenment -- and often times, is actually what most are convinced to be truth that can help or save others. Even if it seems crazy or harmful to everyone else. Most research and information about the case actually shows that the Davidians were abiding by state laws within the parameters of marriage age and consent, and were also under pending approval of the weapons permit they had applied for which was halted by the ATF so they could "search the property". Before you know it, lethal shots were fired from the ATF towards the home (prematurely) and people were severely injured and killed, which forced the Davidians to grab their weapons and try to defend themselves. Two sides firing in fear. Sounds like more of a legal issue than a people issue to me. The saddest part (sorry if I spoil this for you) is that throughout the entire 6 episodes, you can see the breakdowns in communications. The fences lowering and relationships between sides being built to better understand one another, and then one or 5 people coming in to bulldoze over all of the progress made. Creating a bigger divide, distinguishing trust, and causing one misunderstanding after another. All in response to not one obvious thing, but two: fear and reputation. "What will we look like to our citizens if we can't be strong enough to protect them? We have to have authority and hold power." This short series paints such a beautiful picture of how one man (Gary) stands between the fences, loyal to his job and communications with the FBI while also acting as a mediator between the Davidians and his bosses and learning about this group of individuals as people. He learns about the men and women inside the walls, and he TALKS to them. He builds relationship and is honest with them. While he may not have aligned with everything they believed in, he didn't have to to understand that they were people, just like him, who weren't intentionally trying to cause harm. They just believed in something with all of their hearts enough to stand for it. The FBI chose to respond to the delay of the Davidians surrender with fear tactics instead of trust building, against Gary's wishes, which prolonged the resistance of the religious group to evacuate the home. Fear fueled on fear; further perpetuating the issue. You can see both sides as you watch the show, feeling stuck sitting on this fence often in between the groups - able to see why each is protecting their own side. But the tragedy that results is the devastating reality of what can happen when people close themselves in to their own yards and replace their fences with walls, unable to see through to the other sides. Miscommunication and misinterpretation, lack of ability to see outside self, impulsive responses, lack of patience -- a recipe that concocted the completely unnecessary and horrible death of a few dozen Davidians residing in the home (a large percentage being children). You're now left sitting with tears falling, stomach in knots thinking, "If only" to what seems like limitless scenarios that could have changed the outcome entirely. But when you continue to stir a pot full of the recipe listed above -- you're bound to overflow, spill, and make a mess that you could have avoided had you turned down the heat, put a cover on, and let simmer. Maybe even thrown in a dash of compassion, love, and empathy. My heart hurt for weeks after watching. I don't live in a make-believe fairy tale world where I believe all people are kind or that we shouldn't be scared of each other sometimes. I've been exposed to all walks of life in my short 29 years of being a therapist, coach, and constant observer of people. And trust me, at times I've been very scared. Heck, I'm scared just sitting here in bed writing this with all the doors locked. But often times I don't think we try hard enough to ask all the tough questions first. We assume too easily, fear too quickly, and are too far rooted in our own dirt to set foot inside anyone else's. So ask yourselves this: how quick am I to assume this overarching thought about that demographic, those types of people, this belief system or opinion, that specific action -- and where do these assumptions come from? While driving by a few homeless veterans on the street earlier today off of Ann street. one of the men holding a sign waved as I stopped at the light. We held eye contact and I smiled, waving back. I felt instantly overwhelmed, searching my car for items of anything I could give to help and realized the light had turned green with a lot full of cars behind me waiting to go. As I left - I waved again, he waved back and we smiled. I drove away wiping tears thinking, "I was quick to assume he wanted something tangible from me. But maybe that was all he wanted - a smile, and a wave. Acknowledgment. Just like any human does. I can't imagine what kind of life he lives and where he has been. I wish I could sit down next to him and ask sometime while knowing that I'm safe." I wish safety hadn't been a concern. But it's IMPORTANT to screen safety when it comes to inviting people to our tables. We have to care, because some people abuse the safety that is extended to them as they are invited to sit. Sometimes we unintentionally compromise the safety of the people we know and care about, too. But that doesn't mean we should be leading with rejection as opposed to extension. And that also doesn't mean we have the right to assume the full story on anything regarding anyone that we haven't willed to ask the the hard questions to. Be willing to stand where others stand. Be willing to see the world they were forced to figure out how to survive in through their eyes, and maybe then you could stand up from your seat, pull out a chair and invite them to sit down at your table. You never know, they might change your life.
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won-der-luhst : A desire or lust to wander. Most who know me best would probably say that’s an accurate word to describe my spirit. Always wandering, always searching - wanting to be free. I used to be the girl that answered the question, “If you could be anywhere in the world doing anything, what would it be…” with, “Sitting in the best coffee shop in town, maybe somewhere in Paris down a cute alley, writing as I look out over the people, observing them as they go by…” Something romantic of that nature. I’ve always wanted to be anywhere other than where I am, doing something entirely different than what I'm currently doing - even if there’s nothing wrong with either of the two. A constant battle with restlessness. I’d never been on a family vacation growing up. I was fortunate to go to Florida and Myrtle Beach with my Mother when I was in middle school, and I cherish those trips. But the most exciting thing my Mom, Dad, and I had ever done all together was create the yearly tradition of a Christmas-time Frankenmuth trip -- and don’t get me wrong -- I loved it. Charlie Brown’s Christmas album filled the car with noise all the way there and back. I would stare out the window of the backseat, hoping snow would fall to paint the perfect Christmas story I’d created in my head. We would pull up to the lodge with the views of huge, beautiful Christmas Trees and pass by the largest Christmas store in the country. German culture, fudge shops, and a village surrounding us with a rustic feel to it, smelling of pine trees and cinnamon and warmth everywhere. I got to be a kid there, and it always meant a lot to me that no matter what the situation was back home - my parents went out of their way to make that trip happen each year and make it fun for me. These small memories and travels made me appreciate the bigger places so much more. When I was in college, I started venturing out a little more - going to California and Hawaii. Hiking the Na Pali Coast in Kauai (which was absolutely incredible) where I could have EASILY died, but where I also saw whales and dolphins riding on top of the water, triple rainbows, hidden waterfalls, and meteor showers. My curiosity continued to expand as I entertained other parts of the world, not knowing where to begin. But the elusive romantic places from the movies I'd seen and the poetry I'd read always stood out; Rome, Greece, France, Scotland, Ireland...places that held so much beauty, history, and art. I wanted to be engulfed in it. This past summer while sitting in the middle of my living room floor with my roommate, Andrea, the conversation came up that we’d both always wanted to go to Western Europe. We researched plane tickets, found great deals, looked at hostels, and within an hour we were asking each other, “Are we really doing this? Because if we are, we just need to do it now.” That was all it took for us to decide to book a two-week trip, one month in advance in the matter of almost 24 hours. One of the more impulsive things I’ve done, but it doesn’t take much for me to be all in on an adventure. Especially with people I love. Were the details figured out? Absolutely not. But I had full faith in Andrea, and Andrea only, that we would have a fantastic trip ahead. I’m more of a “you plan, I’ll be there ready to go” type of gal. And I was right -- she made sure we were organized and routes were aligned. Before we knew it, we had a very loose itinerary trip planned starting with our first location in Paris, followed by London, Scotland, and finally, Ireland. We'd both never been to Europe, so we decided we couldn't go wrong starting here. We walked between 10-15 miles per day, checked in and out of hostels, and kept an open agenda for our days with a flexible plan of “must-sees”. We shopped at local markets for food and snacks. We found out how to use foreign public transportation, made friends with people from all over the world, laughed a lot, saved a dog, had dinner with a traveling musician, got an inside-tour of “Big Ben” by a guy we met in a pub, rode a 4-hour train while sitting on the floor with a group of people, were moved to tears by live singers and violinists in the streets of Scotland, embarrassed myself in front of at least 100 people during a street production skit I was a part of, watched the Tour De France live without realizing it was being held the week we were there (this should tell you how unplanned we were) -- but we had the trip of a lifetime. While I’d love to share more about the trip itself, my intention for this writing specifically was to tell you about what I learned about myself and about the way I viewed the world while I was there. I brought my journal everywhere I went to try to capture every detail in each significant moment that happened. We took time to write on the hills and mountains, at night while in our hostel beds, at breakfast, while taking the train - we did a lot of reflection. Being that intentional allowed for my eyes to open wider so that I could pay attention to not just what was in front of me, but what was around me, too. Going into this trip, I’d sensed that I was going to have some sort of "awakened" experience while I was there. I didn’t know how or in what way. But fortunately, I wasn’t wrong. Here’s some common themes I found when I re-read my journal.
I think traveling is one of the best ways to open your mind. It allows you to observe and be a part of different human connection and interaction, to navigate unfamiliar territory (literally and figuratively), to be pushed out of your comfort zone, and to adapt. It shows you how other parts of the world live (Europe with much less processed food that I wish America would hop on board with) and dress, what they do for enjoyment, what they sound like. And sometimes the littlest differences can make you appreciate where you come from so much more. Like free and plentiful access to public restrooms, no communication barriers, cleanliness, and currency. We take convenience for granted. We take lots of things for granted. And this is one of the largest reasons why I love traveling so much and why I want to continue to do SO MUCH MORE of it. So I can, of course, experience the greatness that other places have to offer, but so that I can also truly appreciate where I come from. So while traveling often creates wanderlust for most, leaving us with a desire for more once we get a taste of everything the world has to offer; I thought I’d be on fire to get out further. Planning the next trip right away. But as incredible and important as it is to expose yourself to different cultures, scenery, values and societal norms; to fully immerse yourself in it and appreciate it for all that it is, don’t forget what a special gift it is to be right where we are. To see what we see, be surrounded by the circles of people that we love, and to have roots. So I reminded myself that it was OKAY to bask in where I was for a while, and that I wasn't truly missing out on as much as I thought I was. Sometimes we need reality checks to recognize that things that are different can be great and amazing and surreal, but that doesn’t always make them better. It just makes them different. These recognitions are complimentary to the process of experiencing life at its fullest capacity. And more importantly, being present and awake to what’s in front of us. So If you’ve been waiting to go and made every excuse not to, just DO it. There will never be enough time, enough money, enough opinions, enough convenience or enough reasons not to. Go, because going might change the trajectory of your life. It might make you come back and hug the people you left a little harder. It might make you pack up and leave, or it might just leave you with amazing memories and reflections you wrote about in your diary. Either way, you’ll be glad you did. |
Becoming who I am without the world telling me who to be.-Rachel (R) Elery Archives
March 2021
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