Hard(er) Things.

Words, As Fruit. #33

Tension.

Tension has been heavy on my mind. More specifically, truth and tension, and the sacred relationship between the two.

Truth can encourage and invite tension. And when it does, we choose to either lean away or lean in, and allow the truth to press upon the parts of us that may be tender, and unsure and even “triggered”.

I am leaning in, and holding tension’s hand.

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Sometimes one of the hardest aspects of writing is figuring out where to start. On any given day, there are no less than a million thoughts moving to and from my subconscious and conscious. But, there is this one thing that sometimes happens, and when it does, it gathers all the thoughts, brings them into focus and they create a delicious harmony. And then, I sit down, or stand still, and with the words flowing through me, I write. The writing that starts in this way is easeful and sweet, but getting here is mostly uneasy.

This one thing that happens, happened recently, and it has kept happening. It is the hearing of the sound of my mothers voice saying,

“We are here to perfect our loving”.

As of late with all the disgust and hate, festering and spewing, it’s been challenging to, “practice what I preach”, and choose to be loving, even as I witness unfathomable actions of violence, dehumanization, and indifference. Everyday I remind myself, and say out-loud to myself, “keep your heart. keep your heart.” and then, throughout the day, life gives me the opportunity to practice what this means. In these last two weeks what it has meant is that I do not allow myself to sync into reciprocal indifference and disgust, even in response to others whose words, and actions are so heinous it makes my stomach churn. Instead, I take many, many, many, deep and prayer filled breaths and decide to be grateful for the reminder of who I do not want to be.

I do not want to be like the woman who, as she stands blocking aid from entering into Gaza proclaims to the world that no single loaf of bread should reach the children of Gazans because it is her right and duty to prioritize the life of her people over the life of any Gazan baby.

I do not want to be like the Black woman I spoke to some weeks ago who believes that boycotting and divesting doesn’t work, and isn’t worthwhile and sustainable, and so, even as our own Black history shows the tide shifting impact these actions have had, she said, it’s not even worth us trying.

I do not want to be like those of us who pick up and hold our phones in our hands a million times a day and do not give one thought, or consideration to how the production of these devices are, in real time, taking the lives of Congolese children.

And I certainly do not want to be like the many of us who during 2020 proclaimed Black Lives Matter, asked others, regardless of their race, to proclaim it as well, and now sit in silence even as others are asking, begging and pleading, that we speak up, and actively support and acknowledge the fact that their lives matter too.

I don’t just desire or want to be loving. I choose to be loving. Everyday. In so many ways. This means choosing not to pass judgement, even on the people whom I do not want to be like. Instead, the practice I am learning to cultivate is that of turning inward, and seeing the truth of what James Baldwin said,

“Everyone you’re looking at is also you.”

Presently, when I look in the mirror, I am seeing myself in the reflections of us, and deciding who I will be, and who you will see reflecting back to you. My hope is that who we both see is someone who recognizes, respects, honors and values the life of others to the same extent that there is value placed on the lives of me, and mines.

In replaying these words I hear my mother saying, “We are here to perfect our Loving”, a truth has revealed itself to me, and now it is clear. For my time here on this earth, one of my assignments is to perfect my Loving. In doing so, through these words and this work, I hope to create space for us, who choose, to examine our own reflections, consider our own assignments, and, perhaps, decide that Love and Loving is a movement we will not, cannot, choose not to excuse ourselves from being apart of, even if, and especially when, there is tension.

These times are full with tension and I pray that we do not shy away from from feeling it, and confronting it, and instead choose to do the harder things.

“through the demise, my heart is still alive. it looks awful outside but it’s still worth a try.” — Yasmin Bey