There's a road back, buddy.

#034

This has been a heavy week. I’ve been trying to make sense of things and I keep coming up short. I’m angry, frustrated, sad, and worried. The lack of humanity in the world today - and our increasing access to that lack on social media - is alarming. We are so far away from what we are designed for we can no longer recognize it in each other.

Nearly 10 years ago, while at the Hindman Settlement School, I participated in an evening outdoor group reading of Jim Wayne Miller’s Brier Sermon - You Must Be Born Again. Each person present stepped up to the text under a flashlight and read a paragraph or section. It was not only a bonding exercise involving those present, but one that bonded me to home on a molecular level that I’d never known. It opened my eyes and heart in a profound way; I lack the words to even describe it.

Here are some passages I find myself returning to again and again:

You’ve heard that prayer that goes:
Help us to see ourselves as others see us.
Buddy, that’s not a prayer we want to pray.
I believe we ought to pray:
Lord, help us to see ourselves—and no more.
Or maybe: Help us to see ourselves,
help us to be ourselves,
help us to free ourselves
from seeing ourselves
as others see us.

///

It’s our forgetfulness that’s a sin against ourselves.
We don’t know anymore about our history
than a dog knows about his daddy.
We’re ignorant of ourselves
confused in what little we do know.
All we know is what other folks have told us.

///

Buddy, we’ve run so fast
we’ve run off and left ourselves.
We’ve run off and left the best part of ourselves.

So, in these dark times, I’m rereading this work and reflecting on what I can do in my little corner of the world. For me, that means caring less about what others think of me and caring more about how I can increase my humanity toward and with others. That means less pride and more humility. That means listening and hearing and stepping out of the echo chamber.

There are those who will sit at a keyboard and spew all manner of vileness and hatred at those who don’t look like them, sound like them, and believe like them. There are those who would never actually say any of those things to anyone’s face. And there are those who spew hate publicly, who seek to divide us, and who capitalize on division. There are those who criticize others for not doing enough, not saying enough, not clickity-clackitying on social media enough. Someone told me a long time ago, “Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.” To that, I’d add, “Don’t mistake my quietness for apathy.”

I’m working on slowing down and traveling the road back to humanity. I won’t get there through Facebook activism or yelling in someone’s face or cutting someone off. It won’t be easy, but the alternative is not an option for me. Our country and our world can’t change unless we do.

---

I lost my Uncle Jimmy a couple of days ago. He and my Aunt Rita were married for more than 50 years, which is a rare thing these days. Back in 2015, he helped baptize his then 85 year-old mother, Ruth (that’s him in the black hat).

As I’ve been reflecting on his life and what I’ve know and experienced of it, I’m reminded that people are complicated. We’re all better than our worst days and Uncle Jimmy was no exception. I hope he’s at rest now and I’m glad he’s no longer in pain. He’s the only person I’ve ever known to pour a tall glass of milk to go with his pepperoni pizza. I’d like to think he’s hanging out with the cast of “Gunsmoke” right about now.

---

Take care of yourself and each other.

- Roger

The Ground at My Feet is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, please consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.