There’s a senator who would make me lose it.
I threw a magazine across a room once to get his face on the cover out of my sight. Another time, hostile tears filled my eyes when I saw him on TV.
Mercifully, I began to break free of this torment when the words of Booker T. Washington came to me yet another time the senator had me in his grip:
“I shall allow no man to belittle my soul by making me hate him.”
Once in my right mind, I committed to trying something inspired by a recording I’d heard of spiritual teacher Gary Zukav years before:
The next time the senator appeared in my awareness, I’d try to maintain my footing by affirming a truth about him.
And I mean a truth like Mother Teresa would say, not a “truth” my emotionally-inflamed side might be tempted to spew.
My first test arrived: I encountered Senator X’s face somewhere.
I passed the test by jumping straight into action.
“X is a child of God!” I affirmed, both out loud and in my head.
On later tests, I managed to say that he was a beloved child of God. And the miracle is that I’ve softened up to the guy and he doesn’t faze me now.
We can have grievances or miracles, but not both.
That’s a lesson that stuck with me from my cursory exposure to A Course in Miracles, which says that a miracle is a shift in perception from fear to love.
Maybe you can’t swallow the thought of affirming that someone you can’t stand, or even hate, is a beloved child of God. Zukav acknowledges that the kindest truth we might muster about some folks is that they breathe air.
But that’s good enough because it’s enough to pump the brakes on hate or other negative emotions—which indicate a fear response—and make room for miracles to occur by making room for a touch of generosity, aka love.
Inauguration Day could unlock bitter emotions for some people and start a new season of rancor in America.
But remember:
We can have grievances or miracles, but not both.
This isn’t suggesting that we accept the objectionable.
It’s conveying that our power to affect positive change lies in our ability to respond to negative stimulus in a way that harmonizes, not escalates.
Donald Trump is a beloved child of God.
Kamala Harris is a beloved child of God.
But no matter which of the two got your vote, we all lost because America lost.
She lost because large swaths of her citizenry forfeited miracles by fighting each other, or fell for rhetoric from both sides that placed power outside of themselves.
Mercifully, …
We can begin to make miracles in America by transcending our grievances and seizing the truth that our prosperity—our aliveness—isn’t seated on Capitol Hill but in our neighborhoods.
Let’s use Medicaid as a way of exploring this.
Medicaid is government health insurance for people with limited income and assets, and is the largest payer of long-term care in the U.S.
Over 650,000 people are waiting for a Medicaid waiver to get home and community-based services. Without one, countless people with disabilities are forced to live in an institution or nursing home.
And here’s where We The People fit into the picture:
If everyone seeking a Medicaid waiver for home and community-based services got one, their problems would still persist because our neighborhoods lack the supports for them to live there.
We say that it takes a village to raise a child, whether we live that way or not, but don’t tend to mention the larger truth that it also takes a village for people with disabilities to thrive.
Ditto for elders.
And caregivers, young adults, youth aging out of foster care, parents and grandparents raising kids, formerly incarcerated individuals and us all.
America:
The most exquisite policies imaginable can’t compare with a supportive community—a village—in helping us thrive. And every neighborhood is endowed with resources to bring villages to life.
To be clear, that means animating villages for neighbors, BY neighbors, with elected officials (and non-governmental organizations) in supporting roles.
I think it’s safe to say that many in America feel unseen, powerless and lacking in purpose. All of that can be erased with the power of villages.
Capitol Hill isn’t touting villages, but we can.
And the process of starting to grow one can be as simple as learning the name of one neighbor to your left and right—physically and/or politically.
On second thought, there’s an exquisite 5-word policy we could enact to make miracles in Medicaid, not to mention in our food systems, housing or around anything we’re grappling with: “Love our neighbors as ourselves.”
“Neighbor” means a person who lives nearby or a fellow human being, but it can also mean an animal or that extra life-giving thing called nature.
I’ll close with this:
I heard a rabbi on the radio point out a telling word choice in the Bible. Namely, that God’s laws were put ON our hearts, not IN them.
God respects our free will, and we can actively shun wisdom or internalize things the easy or hard way. We can soften our hearts to allow what’s ON them to seep IN, or compel our hearts to create an opening by breaking.
America:
We know how to love each other—we prove it every time there’s a disaster. So why do we wait for our hearts to break to come together?
If you’re hearing me but loathe your next-door neighbors or those across the aisle, do what I did to soften up to the senator. But if calling your neighbors children of God makes you gag, just affirm that they use oxygen!
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