Your Last Hope

“You don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.”

“Of course, we’re fickle stupid beings, with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction. Although, who knows? Maybe this time, we’ll learn.”

                                                                                                     —The Hunger Games

If you look at these two photos, it would appear not much has changed in four years.  Sure, different people in each, but both with a look of despair and loss.  It looks as if their whole lives hinged on an election, someone who would save them from the other, or better yet, save them from themselves.

Mirror Images 2020—2016

Yet, despite different people on opposite sides of their religion’s spectrum, both end in this sense of despair and defeat, as if their own savior had been crucified.  Chants of “crucify her, crucify her!” followed the same, “crucify him, crucify him!”

If history teaches anything, though, crucifying is rarely the answer.  Even what we have hated the most finds a way to resurrect, the very thing which was a threat to our own power and belief system, finds a way to manifest itself over and over again.  “Maybe this time, we’ll learn.”

Probably not.  We rarely do.

You know why?  We’ve come to believe that the people in the two photos are different from one another.  We’ve allowed ourselves to be conditioned to believing they’re the “enemy” needing to be destroyed.  “They” are the obstruction to a vision, whether real or not, that we hold so tightly to of who we’re supposed to be and we fail to see our mutual despair, hurt, and pain. 

We inevitably become what we hate.  The cycle continues.

What I am most grateful for is travel.  The opportunity to travel to varying parts of the world, especially some of the poorest of the poor, have opened my eyes to another world.  There’s a stark difference, though, when you travel to such places. 

Despite the circumstances which we’d deem less than human, there is very little despair.  In the simplest of people and “you don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope”.

Here, though, pain and suffering continue to be passed from one generation to the next.  Despair tossed like a hot potato and whoever comes up short carries the burden for their time before the game once again begins.

The ball only seems to get heavier with time, piling on lost dreams, visions of a country which never were, resentments, failed expectations, grievances which may be grounded in reality or not, mistrust, the aged story of the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s carries on, like two families who only know each other through their judgment, fear, and the unknown.

Better yet, what they’ve been told and taught about the other.  Often coming through voices manipulating our pain for their own personal gain.

There comes a time, though, when we must reckon with ourselves.  In a nation priding itself on possibility, despair mustn’t be a reality.

Reality is all we have but we prefer the illusions and even delusions, at times, rather than dealing with this pain and suffering which continues to drive our decisions.  When we fail to deal with the pain, we inevitably transmit it onto the other, the perceived enemy.

We blame.  We allow ourselves to be victims.  We abort our own lives.

We get caught up in a hope rooted in a past or a hope rooted solely in the future all to avoid the pain of today, the pain of this moment in time.

There should be no surprise, when we view this reality through the human condition, as to why one is elected and not the other, one accepted while the other rejected.  It’s merely the passing of the ball, the burden, onto the other.

We find ourselves at a time in which pausing and reflecting are a necessary pursuit.  If you were the one four years ago or feeling the sting right now, we need to ask ourselves, “Why?”

Why is there so much despair?

Why do we cling so tightly and to what?

What is it we believe we need to be saved from?

Who are you, and even more so, who am I through you?

The voices of crucifixion are intentional.  They’re placed there by those craving power.  It is the timeless voice which works the best to divide the people, to shame people, and yet a people who have more in common than not.

Your religion, a hard pill to swallow, has failed you, over and over again.

The path forward is an interior one.  The superficialities of issues and culture wars only cause war with ourselves out of threat of a future damnation.  The path is one of dialogue, especially with the unknown.

The path to healing and wholeness will always take you where you most fear to go, the hell of your own pain and suffering.

For many, you’re already there.  It feels like despair.

Your choice?

What you decide to do with it.

Transmit or transform.

“Maybe this time we’ll learn.”

Is It Over Yet?

I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve about had my fill, plus some, on this election cycle. When I was watching some news this morning all I kept thinking was, “Is it over yet?” It’s a lot like that child in the backseat of a car who perpetually questions whether we’ve reached our destination as the car continues to fly down the highway at seventy miles an hour, seeming endless in sight. Over and over again the question lingers because it just seems to take forever to get there, without an end in sight.

I couldn’t help but to be mindful of the fact, also, that there seems to be no other news that happens during this cycle. All we ever hear about is Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton, every now and then Gary Johnson, and who’s going to try to win the duel of berating comments that does nothing more than divide and dredge up people’s most visceral reactions toward fellow human beings. How about the number of people killed in Africa by terrorists groups since the beginning of this year? There seems to be no mention of that in the news. How about the number of people around the globe and here in the States that die for not having adequate food, clothing, and shelter each year? There seems to never be a mention of that. That’s really not news and doesn’t sell to the consumers. No one seems to notice that what we are consuming is eventually going to kill us in some way, or at the least, numb us to the real problems that we face as a country and as a fellow human race. If we want to label anything deplorable, it’s the lack of empathy that we have lost towards our fellow brothers and sisters, so often numbed by screens that we can turn on and off and so often translating over into the way we relate to others.

The lack of empathy is typically the result of deep wounds that we allow to fester within us and typically avoid. This mess we call the presidential election is a good way to avoid that pain and numb it even deeper within ourselves. Now it is one thing to do that on an individual level, but when the collective psyche has been damaged and hurt, it, in many ways, leads to the reality in which we live and often scapegoating others, deflecting our own pain, onto others, often those that don’t have the ability to defend themselves, those without a voice. The people that often need that empathy the most become the villain in the story that unfolds. There’s no better way to avoid our own pain than to project it onto the one that can’t defend, can’t stand up for themselves, and in turn only deepens the wounds of others. The cycle continues. Is it over yet?

I can’t help but to think of the visceral reaction to Colin Kaepernick sitting and then choosing to kneel during the singing of the National Anthem. Whether any of us agree or not, it is the paradox of the freedom for which it stands, that one can make a conscious choice to reject it. There’s a fine line between reverence and turning something into a god. I was reminded of the great Martin Luther King, Jr who had addressed the reality regarding war that speaking is sometimes a “vocation of agony” as he would describe it. Even Scripture reminds us of the voice crying out in the desert. When we can no longer empathize with those who feel they have no voice and those who have often faced pain inflicted upon them, it’s not them that are at fault. It’s us who can no longer see beyond our own political lens that has been inflicted upon us, when demonizing the other is more the name of the game than not. It has nothing to do with money and rights. It has to do with understanding that maybe someone has a different experience that myself, whether because of color, religion, sexuality, or something else that, at times, has brought about suffering. The lack of empathy hinders us from taking a step back and saying to ourselves, maybe we have a problem that I don’t understand, and allow ourselves to reflect, have a change of heart, empathize, for the other, rather than be do quick to judge. Or as our politics likes to do, inflict it upon others.

These are sad days in the life of this country, a country that continues in many ways to reel in the pain of the tragic events of September 11, 2001. We often speak about those days that followed and how the nation had come together as one. It was a golden opportunity for us collectively to step back and begin to look at life differently and discern how we move forward in a positive way, rather than the great divide that has ensued. It was a golden opportunity to reevaluate what is most important to us as a people, hopefully one another and not political jargon that seems to dominate our lives these days. Is it any wonder why people are dissatisfied and disenfranchised by the whole process? When voices are crying out and we choose to ignore, we will undoubtably pay a price in the end, finding ourselves wandering aimlessly in life, looking for direction and purpose. Is it over yet? Maybe then I can finally move on in life and start caring about people as people again, rather than voters, skewed by politics, screens, social media, and talking heads telling me how I should think and feel.

With all that, again, my mantra is simply, “Is it over yet?” As I write this I believe there remains fifty-five days left before the 2016 presidential election. At the moment, neither candidate is appealing in any way. Neither candidate has won my vote. And it’s not even because I have a disdain for anyone, but rather, there’s no future in what is spoken and it seems to simply take you back to middle school playground antics of choosing sides with who might be the cooler kid to hang out with at this moment. There’s no prophetic message in bringing people together. There’s no sense of dream that our nation can move beyond such pain that we experience and allow ourselves to become something new. It’s not about turning back the clock to some other time. All days have passed. It’s about listening to our brothers and sisters, especially those who are hurting, and from the ground up begin to build something new as one people. Otherwise, we are simply left with the weight of another election upon us and people waiting to breathe a sigh of relief that it’s coming to an end.

Is it over yet? It’s all that comes to mind as I sometimes feel sad for what I see and hear, to the point where I need to turn it off and have my sense of humanity restored. There’s nothing like that encounter with the homeless that walk through the front yard. There’s nothing like watching the school kids playing outside during recess. They all remind me of the hope that we should all desire for our future as people and as country, and yet the constant reminder that there are greater needs that need to be addressed. Tearing people apart and destroying reputations sets the “winner” up for failure right from the beginning. If we’ve demonized the other for months on end, how do we ever see that person as leader, as someone who can help move us through the pain to the life that is desired for us rather than the destructive force we have made them into over the year. Quite frankly, there’s too much at stake right now to settle, and for any of us to be reduced to a vote and questioning whether it will ever end.