“The practice of peace and reconciliation is one of the most vital and artistic of human actions. Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnamese Buddhist monk
“Empathy is a necessary step for truth and reconciliation.” Simon Baron-Cohen, British clinical psychologist
“Reconciliation is a part of the healing process, but how can there be healing when the wounds are still being inflicted.” N.K. Jimisin, American science fiction writer
In my morning meditation, I do an exercise in which I experience the sensation of feeling completely boundless – my spirit expanding into the galaxies – at one with the universe. Then, I bring all of that cosmic energy in, down, and through my body so that I experience my feet concretely touching the earth – a sensation of feeling grounded. This exercise gives me perspective and helps me feel more at peace with my life and with the world – grounded and boundless.
I don’t know about you, but I have been having a hard time reconciling the gaps between the boundless possibilities life sometimes provides AND the real horrors assaulting us around the world, in our own country, and in our lives that keep us grounded in realities – if not drowned by them. To me, the challenging truth is that reality and possibility always live side by side. Sometimes they are good bedfellows and sometimes they are not. This post will explore ways to reconcile the two.
Jeff Chu, in his new book Good Soil, uses soil as a metaphor for life. He suggests that just as soil welcomes new seeds, nurtures growth, and then accepts the deterioration of the plant as an end to a new beginning, we go through similar processes in our own lives. Seeds sprout with promising possibilities. They may encounter nothing but sunshine in their lives. OR they may barely survive hard rains, sudden freezes, or devastating storms; suffer the consequences of an infestation, being eaten by a ravenous rabbit; or have their life stomped out by a careless human or cruel culture.
Chu sees that digging into the soils that we come from—our families, cultures, communities—enable us to humbly let go of the idea that we alone shape our path; rather, our roots and those around us “are inescapably interdependent with the world.” At the Princeton Seminary farm program, called the Farminary, Chu finds a community bent not on reaping the fruit of the land but on examining the growing conditions of life on the farm – from crops and livestock to the emotional and spiritual lives of fellow seminarians. He blends rich descriptions of his colleagues with descriptions of the casual interactions with nature—egrets in a pond, earthworms tilling through the compost pile, how our cultural associations shape our connection to different produce—to create nurturing soil. For me, it raised the question, how do we develop the conditions that nurture growth and possibility, particularly in a soil contaminated by toxic realities or traumatic truths?
I am constantly trying to reconcile promising possibilities with ruthless realities in my own life. To be clear, my life has been mostly sunshine. I don’t look back on my life as a series of traumas, interrupted by a few good stretches, but as a lot of clear sailing broken up with a few rogue waves.
For me, the main gaps between possibilities and realities are created by the differences between my instincts and my intentions, by the privileged bubble in which I live and the cultural context outside my bubbles, and by the youthful energy that constantly comes up against the relentless tyranny of time. You may experience different gaps, but let me dive a little more deeply into these three as examples of reconciliation challenges.
Intentions and Instincts: My intentions and instincts have both shifted over time. My intentions growing up were mostly focused on winning. Like most small towns in America, sports were a dominant focus. The TV series Friday Night Lights illustrates in dramatic fashion how whole communities can rally behind the high school football team. It reveals how the cultural pressures to win at any cost made it more difficult for the coach to make ethical decisions and to do what was right for his players. As a kid, I witnessed this phenomenon first hand in Plainwell, Michigan where the legendary coach, Jack Streidl, who was laser-focused on winning, was still able to stay true to his values and keep the interest of his players first and foremost in his decisions. He was able to create the conditions for individual and team growth AND deal with the realities of the community culture. Growing up in a family and community driven by a win-lose orientation influenced how I saw the world.
Our instincts take root in the soil in which we grow. Our intentions, on the other hand, can be forged by our spiritual aspirations. In cultures dominated by a win-lose, zero sum game mentality, it’s easy to see how those norms might shape an ultra-competitive mind-set which undermines any intentions we may have toward collaboration and interdependence. As my intentions shifted over time, I still found that my instincts, both inbred and inculcated, were raising their ugly heads. Increasing awareness of those instincts and naming them (as one might name a weed infesting a garden), made it possible for me to consciously choose to act in ways more consistent with my intentions.
I see a similar conflict playing out in organizations and in governments when day-to-day behaviors violate stated beliefs and values. Even when individuals and organizations claim to value empathy and respect, for example, condescension and contempt often creep into conversations. When soils are contaminated with pollutants, crops don’t grow. When our culture is poisoned by elitist or supremacist attitudes, dialogues decay into divisive debate.
Privileged bubbles and cruel cultures: What strikes me in the current information ecosystem is that so many of us are going about our business as if nothing consequential is happening. The question is, how do we reconcile the fact that we are able to live our lives as we have been accustomed while the world is literally and figuratively on fire? Somehow, we have become so desensitized by the flood of shockingly abnormal decisions that denormalization seems normal. In a brilliant interview in the New York Times, Leonhardt and Gessen, discuss the beautiful danger of normal life during an autocratic rise. I highly recommend it. I would also encourage you to watch the CNN recording of the Broadway play, Good Night and Good Luck, which documents how what we are now seeing parallels to the McCarthyism era of the 50s. Its message is there is nobody to blame but ourselves.
Currently, the warning signs of immediate and lurking dangers are being minimized because the indicators of trouble are not yet flashing red: the stock market is once again approaching record highs Inflation has not soared, overall employment rates are relatively stable, and nothing seems too abnormal in many bubbles. In the meantime, however, there are wars and starvation in the Middle East, Eastern Europe, and Africa etc.; the world has lost confidence in American leadership, the predictability of our policies, and the stability of the dollar; there are mass deportations taking place in our own country; military force is being politicized and imposed on our cities; top scientists are leaving; consumer confidence is dropping; college graduates are having great difficulty finding jobs; and our universities, media, and legal system are all under attack. It’s like we are living in dual states – most of us are still able to live “normal” lives in spite of blatant denormalization. The questions are: How did we get here? What are the possible outcomes? And what choices do have regarding how we respond?
I will attempt to answer those questions with three simple scales:
How did we get here? Simple answer: Too many people felt that their voices, ideas, values, and needs were ignored or cancelled and too few people felt inspired by the democrats’ message. Here’s the scale:
5.0: Inspired
4.0: Invested
3.0: Involved
2.0: Informed
1.0: Ignored
What are the possible outcomes? Simple answer: We can either realize that we are a part of an interdependent web in which we all need to help each other succeed or we can give up our independence and depend on elites to call all the shots. Think tech bros and AI as well as an unchecked executive branch. Here’s the scale:
5.0: Interdependent
4.0: Collaborative
3.0: Independent
2.0: Competitive
1.0: Dependent
What are our choices? Simple answer: We can retreat back into our bubbles, resign ourselves to the hopelessness of the situation; OR, we can resist oppression, rebel against autocrats and oligarchs, or revolt en masse. Here’s the scale:
5.0: Revolt
4.0: Rebel
3.0: Resist
2.0: Resign
1.0: Retreat
In short, we have the possibility of creating a culture of interdependence inspired by a spiritual revolution. Somehow, we need to reconcile that possibility with the reality that people feel ignored, are not deeply informed, approach challenges with a competitive win-lose attitude, and have retreated into their bubbles where their perceptions are continually reinforced with targeted messaging. In my language, too many of us are living our lives at levels one and two.
Youthful energy and the tyranny of time. Speaking of reconciliation, on a personal level, I’m still trying to reconcile my young mind with my old body. Physically, at 80, I feel lucky to still be able to take long walks every day and to do a rigorous set of exercises. Even though I had to give up weight lifting due to degenerating disks , I have found other ways to stay strong. Emotionally, I still have to reconcile my infantile emotions of anger and impatience with my intention to grow a kinder and gentler soul. Intellectually, I have the good fortune to be able to read a lot and, hopefully, put together a few coherent sentences. If you are a reader of this blog, you are a better judge of that than I am. I still have to reconcile my ambitions of having a larger platform with the reality that my posts appeal to a very small number of readers like you – thank you.
I am also very grateful that non-profit leaders are still asking me to facilitate meetings and contribute to strategic conversations. My relationships with local leaders give me a boost of energy that quiets the relentless ticking of the clock. When I’m involved with, invested in, and inspired by the work of people who value collaboration and are committed to serving the greater good, I am able to ignore the inevitable signs of ageing. Community, connection, and collaboration boost my spirits.
Still, as John Prine sings in Angel from Montgomery, “But that was a long time, and no matter how I try, the years just flow by like a broken down dam.” Well, I ain’t broke yet, but time keeps flowing. To me, it’s the ultimate reconciliation. Every moment is a possibility, AND we have to live our lives with the inevitability of death.
In one of my opening quotes, Thich Nhat Hanh, says: “The practice of peace and reconciliation is one of the most vital and artistic of human actions.” In a wonderful expansion of that idea, he wrote the book, Reconciliation with your Inner Child. This book focuses on mindful awareness of our emotions and healing our relationships. It offers specific practices to relieve the suffering from childhood trauma. I found the idea of seeing reconciliation as an art as a helpful way to approach situations in need of healing. I also liked the quotes by Jimisin and Baron-Cohen which emphasized that the healing process is difficult when wounds are still being inflicted. AND, no matter what the situation is, empathy is always the first step.
I’m hoping we can hold onto to our positive intentions in spite of whatever instincts keep sprouting up in the soils in which we were raised and the souls we are developing. I’m hoping we can get out of our bubbles enough to hear the voices we have been ignoring. Finally, I’m hoping we can find the spiritual energy to resist tyranny and inspire a sense of interdependence. May it be so.
Also published on Medium.
