Belonging

“YOU.ARE.NOW.CITIZENS.OF.THE.UNITED.STATES.OF.AMERICA.” said the judge clearly and deliberately. No one in the room could help but be moved, and I left feeling every citizen of our country should attend such a ceremony. It helped me remember what a privilege it is to live here, what responsibilities come from being a citizen, and what an opportunity we all have to make our country a better place.

There was one moment in particular that stayed with me, however, like no other. It happened when one of the newest citizens, a Muslim woman dressed with a hijab, shook hands with a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, dressed in an elegant suit. In that instant, they were equals. They belonged to America, and America belonged to them, equally.

The reason why the moment was so poignant was we don’t see things that way. Whether it’s in citizenship, or some other sphere of belonging, we often see gradations of belonging, where some are made to appear more valuable than others.

At a club I know, members actually work behind the scenes to get lower membership numbers because the lower the number, the more prominent their membership appears. At a school where I once worked, we were clearly instructed to sit or stand in seniority order for the annual faculty photograph. As members elbowed their way into position, it was clear the most valuable members were in front. In recovery circles, people use their time in sobriety as a form of status, rather than focusing on the present day. In churches, you can see it all over the place, not only in names adorning buildings and rooms, but in the way the minister is considered holier than the other members of the congregation.

In many ways, I think this way of looking at the world is what caused people to crucify Christ. He opened the gates of God’s love and grace to outsiders, and those who considered themselves insiders were furious. Through all he said and did, he clearly believed there were no levels of adoption into God’s family.

I don’t know what was going on in the minds of the Muslim or the Daughter of the American Revolution, but I think the founders of our country were dancing.

A Beginner's Mind

“In order to do something well, we must first be willing to do it badly. We must have the humility to be once again a beginner, to admit what we don’t know and admit that we wish to know more.” Julia Cameron

For the first time in my life, I was the oldest student in the room. At age 57, I have embarked on a two-year educational adventure leading to a Masters in Fine Arts in Creative Writing, and, more than a few times in class, I seriously questioned my decision.

As classmates arrived electronically loaded, with earphones pumping music I’ve never heard, and coffee paid for, no doubt, with Paypal, this dinosaur sat with his wallet of cash and notebooks neatly arranged beside pens. As they shared their vivid work, the lack of detail in my own was embarrassing. Their colorful poetry, made my ordinary language feel like Kansas before the twister.

I wanted to run back to my old world, to my cozy study where I could sit and write as I always had, where my writing was good enough, but I knew better. If I was going to improve, I would need to be a beginner again. I would need to be willing to see my weaknesses as well as my strengths, and unlearn as much as I hoped to learn.

One of the great gifts of life is learning. The ticket for admission, however, is the vulnerability that comes with being a beginner. Admitting you are not the best at something, that there’s something you need to learn, is hard, particularly the older we are. Whether at work, in a relationship, or a hobby, learning something new can feel incredibly uncomfortable and demand more effort than first thought. No wonder so few do it.

As we draw to summer’s end, and another school year dawns, the invitation for each of us to be students again, to learn something new, stands before us. The question is, do we have the willingness to live our lives with the mind and heart of a beginner? If so, we will certainly master the fine art of living, and that is a degree well-worth getting.

Living Wide-Eyed

When was the last time you lived wide-eyed?

You know, the kind of eyes a child has when she notices a piece of sea glass on the shore before her brother walking beside her . . . The kind of eyes we get when we figure out how to make the DVD player work or fix the latch on the gate . . . The kind of eyes we have when we hear a couple is expecting a baby.

I don’t know what causes us to open our eyes wide. It certainly awakens our faces, let’s in more light, and that, in turn, makes our hearts expand and beat more quickly. Whatever the reason, it always leads to feeling more alive.

I wonder if that isn't the way we were created to live.

Too often, we limit the light. Either we close our eyes, because we don't want to face what’s before us, or squint, as if to question whoever or whatever stands before us. I suppose we do this as a form of protection, but it causes our hearts to constrict, not expand, and life becomes more of a chore, than dance.

Today we have a choice about the kind of eyes we’ll have. May we open our eyes wider than we have in the past, more often than we're used to, and let more light in so our hearts can expand enough to receive the gifts given, and beat more quickly to keep up with the dance into which we’ve been invited.