A heavy week, a fractured story

Let me just start by saying…I don’t know how to write about this. I’m not sure anyone does.

But instead of having a quick reaction to recent events, I wanted to sit with this and try to unravel it. Try to honor it. Try to get inside of it and also see outside of it.

I’m not here to discuss a position on politics. I’m here to talk through the emotions we’re experiencing in light of what’s going on in the world.

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This past week has been heavy.

I’ve spent the last few days wrestling with reactions and conclusions I’ve read or heard people make that I look up to.

It’s got my insides in a knot, and I’m sure I’m not alone in that feeling.

Every social group in America is frantically asking, “What’s our plan? What’s our posture? What’s our response?”

We have become inundated with answering impossible questions, daily.

My goal here is to reflect alongside you. Not to tell you what to think or how you should respond.

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I recently listened to a podcast that was reflecting on the state of our world. Not on politics, not on religion, not on us vs. them. Just on what it feels like to be a human in the midst of this tumultuous time.

The host reflected on a story about a man during the Vietnam war.

During the Vietnam war, there was a man who stood outside the White House with one single candle. Just by himself. Like he was having a little lone vigil.

And he did it every night. He’d show up at sunset and stand there with his little candle. And eventually the media caught on and somebody came to him and said, “Sir, what are you doing here every night with your candle? Do you actually think that your one little candle is going to change this war and this administration?”

And he said, “I don’t do this to change them. I come here every night, with my little candle, so that they don’t change me.”

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It’s easy to get swept up in the noise and divisive rhetoric right now. It’s everywhere.

I have even found myself wanting to get involved or respond to different opinions.

The harder thing is separating ourselves from group thinking, and truly sitting with ourselves to feel all of this for everything it is, and then responding if we choose to.

Reflecting on our values, as people, first and foremost. And then unfolding the social layer, the political layer, etc.

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I write a lot about the topic of narrative and how we, as humans, are instinctively drawn to story as a survival skill. Not only are we bred for communicating and identifying through story, but we are conditioned to believe the stories we are told.

Story is so engrained in the way our brains function, that we subconsciously drown out information that disrupts or disqualifies the narrative we believe to be true.

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I’ve been reflecting on the following thoughts this week, trying to understand why we make the quick rationalizations and categorizations that we do.

When we feel wronged or personally attacked, what do we do?

Get angry.

When we feel confused and overwhelmed, what do we do?

Shut down.

When we feel unsafe, what do we do?

Panic or grieve.

When we feel connected to someone or some thing because of a shared belief, what do we do?

Categorize ourselves with them.

And when there is a person or a group that we believe to be the catalyst for many of these feelings, what do we do?

We look for order. We meld all of those feelings together to form a story about ourselves and about the world.

And we assign those people to a particular faction or a specific group. Or we listen to people we think are just like us, and assign them to the group those people deem responsible.

It helps us organize our minds and categorize our understanding of the world and how it functions. It also helps us understand our place in all of it.

It gives us a lens, a vantage point. It provides some sense of stability for ourselves. To know our position. To know our role in the larger story.

But when we do that too quickly, we can get isolated in one version of the narrative.

It’s why we’re experiencing such drastic division right now. Many have taken a piece of their own truth from these tragedies and are shaping their worldview and next steps by it.

What we all experienced in this past week, as human beings, is a tragedy. The most tangible acts of dehumanization that exist were broadcasted for all of us to witness.

It can’t be made sense of. But we try to.

We subconsciously submit ourselves to a cause.

It reminds me of that Brené Brown quote about belonging, “Stop walking through the world looking for confirmation that you don’t belong. You will always find it because you’ve made that your mission. Stop scouring people’s faces for evidence that you’re not enough. You will always find it because you’ve made that your goal.”

The same can be true here.

As soon as we commit ourselves to a single narrative, it becomes our map for the world. Our telescope that we see everything through. We look to it for understanding, for clarification, for signals that tell us what to do next.

And many times, these narratives have an assigned voice. They can be our world leaders, our church leaders, our parents, our spouses, our friends, the list goes on.

Pretty soon, it’s the only way we can understand the story.

To not commit to a specific narrative and submit to those voices can feel destabilizing, like we don’t have a sense of belonging or someone to tell us what to do next.

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I don’t think any of us can truly understand this and unravel it for all that it is. Which is why it’s easier to take sides and make quick assumptions in the name of our convictions. It’s the fastest path to stabilization.

But there's an importance of discomfort in learning. Of taking the time to find relatability and connective tissue that binds us together with those we disagree with. That's what breaks the barriers of the false narratives we've been conditioned or convinced to choose between and stay confined to with our lives.

Everyone has their own version of the truth and their own version of how the rest of the story should unfold.

For a lot of us, our worthiness and entire belief systems about who we are are tied up in those stories.

Right now, the world is at war with those stories.

It makes sense why we all feel entirely unsettled and disoriented.

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I believe that there’s a fuller, more real story to uncover. One that includes many perspectives from several vantage points. And a collective action plan instead of a divisive one.

Without acknowledging that there could be more to the story than we immediately see, we’ll voluntarily stay stuck in opposing factions, pitying the other and waging war to protect what we deem as true.

We’ll look to leaders to tell us exactly what to do next, which when done without proper reflection and perspective, can lead to perpetuating the very thing we don’t want to experience again.

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America is a melting pot of difference.

We are not one thing. We shouldn’t be one thing. That’s the point.

Agreement doesn’t automatically equal sameness and safety.

And disagreement doesn’t have to equal disconnection and a perceived threat.

Acknowledging all of who we are as a nation is essential to viewing our world and the people in it clearly.

Humans are holistic people with deeply engrained stories and biases under the surface. And the world is made up of all of us, which means America is deeply engrained with unique stories and different biases under the surface.

Part of the unity we strive for as a nation requires us to work to understand each other and hold several truths at once.

And those truths don’t have to dismantle our unity.

Who are we going to be? For ourselves, for our families, for our communities, for our world.

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Words are powerful — right now especially. They can spark controversy, catalyze hate, and they can have a direct impact on the way we see ourselves and the world. They can also unite us, bind us, bring us peace, and give us a sense of allyship.

When people hear powerful words, good or bad, they take them into their lives and into the world. It shapes how they see others. It determines if they view difference as an invitation to learn or as a threat to their worthiness and survival.

What are your words right now?

Pay attention to what you’re reading, what you’re watching, what you’re taking in.

Is it one-sided? Is it sparking hate? Is it representing multiple perspectives? Is it leaving room for relatability amongst us or is it turning us against our neighbors? Is it embodying who you want to be? Is it adding to your humanity or taking away from it?

What are you doing to feed yourself right now? To nurture your children? To set a table where everyone is welcome?

These aren’t questions to answer today.

But reflections to make as we continue to stay human.

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The world is messy.

All of our hearts feel messy.

And I’m sure many of our relationships feel messy.

Finding that human relatability, even when we don’t agree, is essential.

What are you doing to remember yourself and our shared humanity?

What story are you planting your feet in? Have you explored every crevice of every corner and come to that conclusion yourself?

Is there a bridge you haven’t even tried to venture across?

Is there an opportunity to build a fuller, more real story?