Failing

We are failing.

As a species, we are failing. We believe that if we associate with the right group of humans, we will win and the others, who are wrong, will lose. We believe our voice is louder, and that equates to power. We do not have to follow the rules because we have won and have the power is a belief that will destroy us all.

When the power shifts, and it will, it always does, they will not follow the rules either. ‘Tit for tat’ is the main rule, and we keep upping the volume on that so now we all can suffer more as we inflict the worst of it on each other.

Perhaps we will just keep increasing the drama, violence, lies, and righteousness until we burst into flames.

We fail to remember or even acknowledge our history as a nation and as a species.

We would rather hear the same version of history, or science for that matter, over and over and over, because then we do not have to change our mind, behavior, perception, or stories. We do not have to see ourselves in a different light. We have to see that we are complicated beings with contradicting stories—and that is the harsh, glaring truth of who we are.

Heaven forbid, there is a new discovery, archeologically or scientifically, that alters the way we might view the world. Because then, we would have to see a wider view that is less clear and more complex. More importantly, we would have to feel things that might be uncomfortable.

We love technology as long as we do not have to change ourselves, habits, behaviors, and beliefs. The fear that we might not be who we think we are, who we have been told we are, or expected to be, is terrifying.

What if the new discovery, idea, or perspective sets more people free? What if this new vantage point does not have a foundation of fear as a source of control? What if a behavioral shift creates safety, protection, and more freedom for all—even if it sits uncomfortably at first on your face?

Change is hard. Changing our belief system is the hardest thing we can do, and it is not comfortable and often frightening. It feels as if the very ground we stand on is shifting under us or disappearing altogether.

We are being asked not to change one or two things, but a whole bunch all at the same time, and that is really hard. That kind of catastrophic change is unnerving, provoking emotions that we may be unprepared to feel. Without sufficient emotional capacity and a culture of support, change feels impossible, and so we lash out at others, blame, shame, and scream at cashiers.

For those who have more capacity and support, the burden to assist others sits lopsided on our desk of things to do. We have limits to our capacity and fear of being harmed for our differences. We take refuge in self-isolating bubbled. We are on alert for our safety when we feel the rage building all around as we step gingerly into public spaces, to make a stand. Or, we do not go into public unless absolutely necessary.

Change might also be freeing, but we are too scared to step into our own transformation because we might lose something we think we need.

Whatever is sacrificed (made sacred) in transformation no longer serves the new system, and likely was the cause of the suffering prompting us to shift in the first place.

We fail because we believe our inclusion in a political party, social club, or some group is belonging.

Our identity is so wrapped up in an external sense of belonging and false power. We Americans are not different or better than other human beings who have made this same egregious error.

Seriously look back into the past and carry the lessons learned forward. Do not only look at recent history, or only the history of what we ego-centrally call Western Civilization. Look around the Whole World. See how well some communities and cultures have done without having to be boastful, loud, and obnoxious about it.

How might we live in a more harmonious way with each other and the natural world without imposing our belief system on others?

When who we are supersedes our humanity toward others, we are in deep trouble. We begin to believe we are a Democrat, Republican, member of the yacht, civic, masonic clubs, or alumni of some university or high school. That is not who we are. That belonging is not real, and it covers up the most precious part of us and the real belonging we each long to experience.

We have failed to belong to our own humanity. 

We fail in the exhaustion of being inundated with so much that is disheartening, feeling like what we do does not matter. When we make a request for respect and are met with defensive, offensive behavior at every turn—sometimes we break into our worst selves.

Sometimes we have unexpected, escalating conflicts that expose what needs to be tended.

I had an early morning conflict with someone I perceived to be driving a little too fast on the street where we live. The speeding on the short cul-de-sac road has been such a problem over the last few years. Wanting to protect our young children who play here, I am now accustomed to politely and clearly gesturing at drivers climbing the blind hill to slow down (palm pushing down toward road).

When I did so on a particular morning, while walking our dogs with my husband, I saw the man, who I do not know, slow down. I waved in gratitude at his acknowledgement. Then he stopped, rolled his window down, and began to debate the topic of his speed and driving. Attempting to share the reason for the gesture, we did not dispute his claim of driving at a safe speed, he angrily cut off our explanation as he backed his truck up to meet our gaze.

The threat was real—perhaps to us both. The conversation quickly devolved. We cursed and threatened each other at 8:30am.

What do I take away from this explosive instance? That he did not like a woman telling him what to do? Or, that he felt attacked by a white woman because he has brown skin? Or maybe he wakes up with burdens I cannot even imagine. Having new projects on my already full plate, I did not have capacity to shift or make room for the unexpected.

It is all piled up on top of us, headlines highlighting the failures of leadership and systems. So much is unraveling before our eyes. These messages seep into us and bleed out into our conversations and relationships.

Perhaps, the man in the truck and I are both exhausted by too many circumstances we cannot control, and in our exhaustion we did not even know what we were carrying, even at the start of a day. Our capacity to tolerate is shrinking. Maybe one more drop of who is bigger, louder, more important, and “my rights are more important than your rights” pushed us both over into the unexpected territory of combative behavior. We were a display of so many frustrations that prevented us from even exchanging good mornings and sharing our names with one another.

I walked down my driveway defeated and shaking from the exchange knowing it had not gone well. Again, I return to the work that is mine. Taking note of my lack of capacity, I begin again, offering myself compassion before I hold space for my family and clients. I make room, again, for the unexpected. I had not even realized I had fallen into habits, routines, and expectations that narrow my ability to pause.

I will speak up when someone is creating an unsafe or unfair situation. I might even raise my voice again. Surely, I will falter again as l learn to assess my daily capacity in these uncertain times that push us all to new edges. At times, I will misjudge my own ability to behave better in difficult circumstances. Other times, I will know myself well enough to change the course of the conversation.

I want to belong to something better. Desperately, just like you, I want to belong.

I want to belong to something real, that holds me. I want to belong to a space and role I honor and claim in duty and responsibility. The only place I know that holds us all in this way is nature. The earth under our feet, the sky that breathes with us, and every living thing in between is the belonging I seek.

Until we belong to ourselves, each other, and the natural world, we will never satisfy that longing. It is a belonging that we must continue to claim.

Do not narrow into expectation or habit, taking for granted what the world owes us. Until we shed the false identity of clubs and cliques, we will suffocate in their pretense and exclude each other from the greater story of our inheritance.

We are going to bleed out if we continue to ignore the call. If we do not respond to the ultimate belonging to the human race and to the natural world and to our role in it.

What if we quit grading ourselves and each other so harshly? What if we offered compassion, understanding, and decided to do better? What if we stepped into the ambiguity of the not knowing, but being curious and courageous enough to engage anyway?