Hopeful Sadness

There’s something about trying to see the fullness of something that carries with it a strange sadness. It’s not a depression, and “it” is difficult to fully describe. It’s almost as if to know what is, you also end up seeing what isn’t, but also what could be. It’s the moment between the darkness and the dawn, where you almost hold your breath.

What I’ve learned, I suppose, is that there is always so much depth and beauty in the experiences that shape my life, and the moments that seem to pass in a flash.  Behind knowing smiles there is heartbreak and joy. It’s the contrast that gives everything its color, but also carries its cost. The opportunity then is to proceed with compassion. To know sadness and joy, and to realize that things are always just so much… more… than they seem. It should mean that I think before I speak, that I treat others not only with kindness, but also gentleness, and that I hold loosely to my expectations, and enjoy the depth of each moment.

I don’t think it’s a concept I fully comprehend yet, and maybe I never will. What I think is there’s a strange sadness in knowing. This sadness makes things, deeper, more complex, but also fuller and more hopeful. Perhaps it’s a place of peace, and a place for growth. I think in the fullness of things we can find great strength, and great opportunity to know love.

How are you looking at things? Do you seek to see the fullness of what things are? Are you willing to know, be sad, but also be full of hope? How would it change how you approach conflict, others, and conquer your own challenges if you saw with depth? How would you love if your knowing smiles were full of joy, but also knew sadness?

I often run from discomfort and in that I try to make everything simple and controllable which creates a great deal of chaos. Perhaps in hopeful sadness I can also find rest.

What if we understood

We are at a time when information is everywhere. There is little that escapes the attention of the masses. We are also at a time when opinions are everywhere. Yet even with an abundance of opinions and information, understanding is scarce. 

Where is our understanding? Where is the humanity that says, one human to another, I understand? Our problems and opinions are not alien to one another. It is not that we can't understand, but understanding is a choice. 

What would happen if we began to understand each other? To know that what is human is something we can comprehend? What if we didn't care what flag someone waves, who they love, what they worship, look like, smell like, think like, talk like? 

What if on the street corner I said, "I see you." And what if on that street corner you responded, "I am seen." What if I said "I hear you" and you responded "I am heard." What if I said "I know you" and you responded "I am known." What if I said to you, "I get you" and you responded "I am understood." 

What if we took time to hear, to speak, to see, to know, and to understand? We may not like some humans. We certainly may not agree with people that think differently than we do. But what would happen if we sought to understand them, who they are, and what they care about? Would that really be such a bad thing? I think that would make the world a much better place. 

Love

"They say it's better to have loved and lost.

But under what delusion could the cost of loosing be worth it?

Especially while never having loved at all won't cause you to fall on your face in sorrow. 

 

Love is not borrowed and returned, it's not a book with pages you can turn, and it isn't a treat to consume. 

Love is a cost. It's a price that you pay, it's a choice to say that they're worth your everything. 

Love is laying your chest bare, sharpening the blade and handing someone the hilt, and with guilt asking "please don't   kill me." 

Love is messy. Our philosophy and poetry makes us think it's a novel token, yet our culture has broken our expectations and warped our consideration of the crushing cost of our affections. 

 

Casually spoken, I love you, has turned us inward on ourselves, as a statement of status instead of surrender. 

Spoken in truth, I love you, turns outward and it turns us inside out, spilling the doubt in our words and revealing the intensity of our victorious defeat.  

 

Love goes first, it runs into the fire, not because love doesn't let you get burned, but because you yearn for the one behind the flames. 

Love lays down. Not without a fight but only to win, because it's goal is not supremacy, but intimate, vulnerability. 

Love lasts. Not because of an eternal flame or efforts to maintain a spark, but because love looks into the dark and makes the choice to push forward. Because true love is just as much a choice as it is a voice reassuring your decision. 

Love hurts. Always. Because there is always cost, so lost love never goes away, and the burn stays as a reminder of what you've given, what you've promised, and how you've risen to heights above only to lay yourself down below their blade. Even when no longer threatened, you can still feel the weapon you handed over pointing at your heart, because no measure of apartness can ever win it back. 

 

Never loving at all always lets you stand tall - proud, and you can proclaim that your whole. 

But unless you've loved, you won't ever know loss, and without loss you will never know the cost of their heart and the joyous pain of your own, reminding you that it's still beating. "

 

Copyright 2014 - all rights reserved

Source: http://youtu.be/zWCr3pmeowE

Common Unity

 

"Community" 

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​What a strange word. It's a word that elicits images of Church on Sunday morning, Friday night at the bar, Thanksgiving Dinner, a romantic walk on the beach, water cooler chats at the office, and a sitcom about college by the same name. Each image is completely different from the others but each shares a common thread, in community you are not alone. In community loneliness flees. 

Perhaps that's why people crave community so much. Maybe it's the pain that loneliness brings that drives us to community. Loneliness and being by yourself are very different things, the latter is a choice, the former an emotion. 

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Community needs to be more than an escape from loneliness. Escaping loneliness is good, but often when the time for community ends the pain of being alone can feel so much worse. "It is better to have loved and lost," does not always apply. Community is fueled when there is a goal. Even if the goal is to invest in others, community needs a mission. 

There, as always, is a catch. The mission can very quickly overtake the people, and the goal of the community can destroy the "common" that support it. The only thing worse than being lonely by yourself, is being lonely while you are surrounded by others.  I think that's what's started happening to us. 

We are so ready to not be alone, that we pick up a banner and start waving in hopes that people come join us. Our loneliness is sated only briefly and so we keep chanting louder, trying to rally others to our cry. Like an addict and a drug we dance with this idea of community, this lie that we are loved by the people shouting with us. Eventually the high fades, but our addiction to the cause only swells, because after all - it's all we know. 

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Sooner than later the cause eclipses the community and our passion the people. Our tea parties, sidewalk prophets, extremists, legalists, conspiracy theorists, vigilantes, and protesters rise out of the ashes, the people forgotten, and the charge their new drug. 

When did we become so addicted the sound of our own voices? When did our hunger for relationships dovetail into a hunger for "rightness"? 

We have to redeem community. It's not going to come from an organized weekly meeting, or even a common goal. Community will come back if we start paying attention to each other and ignore our tenants and decrees. If we put aside our piety and politics, then we can be whole again. Then we can stop being so terribly alone.