Mending of Hearts

For more than a year, I’ve been playing with hearts…artistically.

I didn’t know when I started that I was working on my own heart in ways words couldn’t express, but my hands, given the freedom to do so, could.  

First by cutting and ripping pieces of paper and forming hearts or broken hearts or mending hearts in collages.

Then by drawing hearts within hearts within hearts, smaller hearts nested, protected by the larger ones. All open hearts, sometimes naturally, sometimes broken, jagged-edged.

Months ago, my dad, an artist, who I often show my not-like-his creations, noted, “Your hearts are changing.”

No longer broken and dark, but open and bright, filled with light.

I noted that the same had happened inside me. Somehow. Inexplicably. I had only a few weeks before returned from a most difficult stint in Palestine. In that place of deep brokenness, my heart returned to me, to the world, brighter and more open, willing to take in the hurt of the world only long enough to send the pain out buoyed by the light I had found in myself.

After that, I went a few months without creating anything. When I started again, my hearts made their way into otherwise abstract drawings of intersecting ribbons and swirls and strings of beads. I don't know why.

Last month I spent a few days alone in a cabin in the woods. I spent my days walking, watching, writing, drawing. Noticing the spider webs everywhere glistening in the sun, watching a spider in my screened-in porch devour one spider…and then another… I could only draw spider webs. Imperfect webs of connection against blurry backgrounds of creation. No hearts.

Almost 2 weeks ago, I was on a very different, and equally rich, retreat, spending time with the Benedictine sisters in Erie, PA, and a number of other wonderful women. For the first time since my previous retreat, I felt the impulse to draw. Again, webs. But this time, each web I drew had strands of silk that formed one heart, or a few. Ever since my sojourn into the woods, I had been paying attention to spiders and webs. They, or at least one, had been demanding my attention, biting me in inconvenient places (including inside my belly button) on more than one occasion (Side note: this was when I learned that lemon juice helps to soothe the itching and the swelling of spider bites when over-the-counter creams do not).

In Native American traditions, according to Jamie Sands, spiders represent “the infinite possibilities of creation.” Perhaps my spider was reminding me, not so subtly, that I had some work to do: weaving love into the web of my own creations.  

After yet another bite (I hope the last), my webs have not simply contained hearts, but been made of hearts within hearts within hearts. 

I created my last simple drawing a few nights ago. Bewildered by the troubles of our world, I started the web, first with the strands that met in the center, all bright colors. Then the strands that connected one to another around and around and around. In hearts.

Shortly after I began, I heard shouting in front of my house. Reluctant to leave my heart-growing endeavor, I went out on my front porch and saw two men who seemed to be attacking, one even beating with a stick, another.

One of the attackers, curly light brown hair, striped blue and gray shirt, saw me. “Call 911!” I didn’t understand what was happening and took another moment to take in the scene, trying to process what I was seeing. After a few more seconds of shouting, the man on the ground stopped resisting, thankfully conscious and, as far as I could tell, unharmed.

“He tried to steal a purse,” Curly told me, breathless. It had happened at a bar a few blocks from my house. “Call 911!” I dialed the number and handed him my phone. My pregnant neighbor had come out to see what was going on.

As the self-appointed doers-of-justice stood and the accused sat on the ground, my neighbor and I talked and watched. The accused stood up, the other two vigilant, ready to subdue him again. The accused asked me for water.

I noticed he was sweaty, his kelly green t-shirt nearly soaked. I wanted to give him water, but equally wanted to remove myself from a situation I still didn’t fully understand.

He asked again. I hesitated.

He ran. They chased. He only made it across the street and a few houses down.

My neighbor and I continued to watch as another man arrived to stand guard, now three surrounding the accused. Then the police came. The men from the bar left. An ambulance arrived.

I went inside, not knowing if the accused left in a police car or an ambulance.

I resumed the web of hearts.

Strand by strand.

Connection.

Color by color.

Intersection.

I knew that what I could give to the world that night was a representation of the world I wish to help create.

Not fine art, perhaps, but sincere.

A simple vision, so difficult to manifest in 3-D.

But possible.

I have to believe it’s possible.

I do believe it’s possible.  

Tonight, I was reminded that I am not the only person who believes this.

We can create a web of love.  

Linking us one

by one

by one.

Me

to you

to whom?

Pretty

“So pretty, what a waste,” he said with a smile on his face.  

An older gentleman approached me at a gathering recently and started a conversation with those words. I think he thought he was giving me a compliment.

Seriously?

I mean, SERIOUSLY?

While I have control over the way I care for myself, I do not have control over the face I was born with, or my hair, or the bones and cartilage that give shape to my skin. These parts of my being are nothing to take pride in because I did nothing to “earn” them.  

The man who made the comment knows me.

He knows I've been a teacher of Spanish and theology. 

He knows I’ve traveled the world and taught English in India and Palestine.

He knows I’ve been a human rights defender in Palestine.

He knows that I now speak and write about my experiences.

He knows I sing well. To be clear, I did not “earn” my voice either, but I have trained it and I make the choice to sing. My singing seems to bring joy or solace or peace to people. It would be a waste not to use that gift. All of us have been given talents that we may choose to develop; let us not squander them. 

I have made many life choices that I feel good about, choices that I know have benefited me and I believe have also, in a very small way, benefited the world.

The way I look has never entered into my decisions or ability to do any of those things.

I have also made choices that likely would not have even been options if I were married and/or had children. While there are times when I have longed for those things, it would be ungracious of me to deny the richness that my life has offered, and continues to offer, because I am single. It would be ungracious to deny the profound impact of the people who have entered, and sometimes also exited, my life. I believe I have also had an impact on the lives of others. 

But apparently, in the mind of this gentleman, because I am, by his standards, “pretty” and also not married, somehow my life is wasted. The other implication, that people who, by his standards, aren't pretty have little to offer a marriage, is equally insulting.  So... No.

No!

NO!

NO!

My looks are not the best I have to offer. I did not work for them. They don't make me any more capable of being in any relationship in a fruitful way.  And I will not always have them.  

Regardless of how I look, I am proud that I am trying to live according to my values (with varying degrees of success). I will always have the fact that I am trying to live a life of integrity.

I will always have the memories of my time in El Salvador and Guatemala and India and Palestine, at home, and in so many other places. If I had chosen not to take advantage of the opportunities that have presented themselves in my life, that would be a waste. All of us have been given opportunities that we may choose to take; let us not squander them. 

When I look at the people I know, I am astounded by the breadth and depth of their care for me, for others, for our world. These people have helped shape who I am and they continue to support me as I walk my path. I will always have those connections and relationships. 

To the best of my knowledge, none of those relationships are or were based on my looks: whether I am “pretty” or not, whether I wear make-up or tweeze my eyebrows or dye my graying hair or shave my legs. To the best of my knowledge, none of those things are the reason that I am single, either. If those are the primary factors someone wants to judge me by, then no thank you. And if marital status is the only relationship that someone thinks validates my worth, then no thank you.  I am valuable simply because I am. 

Dear women and girls, whether YOU choose to wear make-up or tweeze or dye or shave is completely up to you, but please know that doing – or not doing – any of those things does not make you any more worthy of care or respect. Anyone who can’t see your value beyond your natural looks or the way you choose to present yourself is not worth your time. Whether you choose single life or married life or some other kind of life is up to you. Anyone who judges your value based on only one particular relationship (or lack thereof) is not worth your time. 

Dear men and boys, whether the women and girls you know choose to wear make-up or tweeze or dye or shave is completely up to them and no one else. If you are a father, make sure your daughters know this. Their beauty, the beauty of all of us, goes much deeper than what you can see. Dear men and boys, take the time to discover the beauty that comes from deep within, not the “pretty” you can easily see. And if the women and girls you know are “pretty” and you want to compliment them, make sure they know that you value more than the way they look.

I am more than "pretty." Being so (by some person's standards) does not make my worth any greater than anyone else's. You, too, are more than what I can see; you are valuable simply because you are. Let us look beyond the surface, so that we can see all people as they truly are, as Thomas Merton described it, “shining like the sun.”

I Want to Talk to You

I want to talk to you.

If we have ever disagreed and you feel I didn’t hear you, let’s get together and talk. If you simply need someone to listen to whatever is stirring in you, let’s get together and talk.

I want to talk to you.

Actually, first I want to listen, I want to try to open my mind and heart to what you have to say and what lies beneath your words, and what lies beneath what lies beneath your words. I’m sure I’ll do it imperfectly, but I want to try. Or when I don’t want to try, I will try to want to try.

I want see into the core of you and witness what beauty and brokenness reside there.  

Then I will ask you to try to hear me, too, to see me, too, to honor what I hold at my center, too.

The knowledge that I need, that we need, to seek people who see the world through a different lens, became particularly clear almost 4 years ago after my first stint with Christian Peacemaker Teams in Palestine. After being in Palestine, where I witnessed the systemic dehumanization of one group of people by another, and I noticed my own desire to demonize (it’s so much easier), I came home knowing deep in my bones I needed to seek opportunities for conversations with people who wouldn’t simply agree with me.

Throughout my life I have tried to have an open mind. Travelling has offered me the great gift of meeting people from many cultures and life experiences. Those people have given me so many opportunities to open my mind, to stretch my heart, to let it break open, and to help it heal. But one doesn't have to travel to expand. Here at home, family members and friends offer these same chances.

On social media, I see a range of perspectives. I have made a deliberate choice not to unfriend anyone because of a view they express or a bias that I find problematic (we all have our biases). Sometimes I address differences on social media; other times because of the tone of a message, or lack of time, or my own desire to respond in a way that’s not helpful, I decide that it is better to be silent. Sometimes when I choose to enter an online conversation, it becomes  unproductive, maybe ugly, and I choose to leave it. When I do so, I may invite the person(s) to continue the conversation face to face. I’ve made several such invitations recently. Unfortunately, those people have rarely, if ever, chosen to continue the discussion outside of the impersonal forum of social media.    

The invitations are genuine. They are my way of saying: I disagree with you, but I want to hear you, I want to understand you.

I want to see your face, so I can remember that you are so much more than whatever it is we’re discussing. I want you to remember that about me, too.   

I want to be in dialogue with you. If that interests you, let’s set a time to meet. 

But if you want to debate or have shouting matches or prove that you’re right and I’m wrong, I am not interested. If you want to ridicule or name-call me or anyone else, if you want to judge others without doing any self-examination, then no thank you. 

There’s too much of that going on in our country and world already. Hate-spewing. Fear-mongering. “Them”-blaming. Self-inflation and “other”-deflation.

Is that really who we want to be? 

I ask this not only of you, but of myself, too. I am not immune to sinking lower rather than rising above, not even close. I’m really good at self-righteousness.

I want to get better at humility.  If you want to do this, too, let’s talk. I want to be reminded that not only do I have a piece of the Truth, so do you. And while my truth and your truth may be different, it doesn't necessarily mean that they can't both contribute to the larger Truth that none of us will ever fully comprehend. 

Over the last several years, I have reached out to a person here or there, seeking conversation about difficult issues. When they have said yes, the conversations have been respectful, but definitely not easy. We didn’t come to neat conclusions or solutions to the complex topics we discussed – we weren’t trying to -  but we did (or at least I did) come away knowing that we had had an encounter with another expression of both humanity and divinity. Each encounter was a manifestation of the connection that already is, that always was, and always will be between us.

I want to live into that connection.

I want to look you in the eyes when we talk, so that I can see you, the you I can’t see with as much clarity in a Facebook post. I want to be in your presence, so I can read the nuances of your voice and body that can’t be communicated through written words.

A couple of months ago I had the great honor of attending a conference in Rome with people from around the world who are committed to nonviolence – through scholarship, theological study, and practice. So many of those people, coming from their particular contexts of violence, expressed this simple and oh-so-difficult idea:

We must talk to each other.

This morning I watched an interview with a former CIA officer.  Her message: we must talk to each other. In the documentary "The Gatekeepers," made up of interviews with former heads of the Shin Bet, Israel's security agency, the same message came through loud and clear. I want to honor the wisdom of their lived experience of conflict that I'll never fully understand. 

We must talk to everyone, whether they are acting peacefully or violently. Whether we agree with them or not. They all agreed on this point. 

We must talk to each other and we must do so with love.

With love.

Mairead Maguire, 1976 Nobel Peace Prize winner from Northern Ireland, made that point over and over again. So did many others from Colombia, Uganda, South Sudan, Croatia, and other places.

I want to honor the wisdom of people who have chosen love over fear, who have chosen to risk their own lives, but not to harm another, because they know to harm one is to harm us all. 

We are all connected.

Our country cannot move forward if we cannot or will not talk to each other, if we cannot or will not recognize and live into our interconnection. .

Tonight at a rehearsal for a community choir made up of locals and refugees, we sang the words, “We are one America.” Our country does not look that way right now. The longer we talk at each other or about each other, rather than to each other, the harder it will be to mend the fabric we are ripping apart.

Our country and our world will only become more polarized, more violent, more frightening, if we cannot or will not speak to each other.

I want to talk to you.

Karen Pace and Dionardo Pizaña created a beautiful and challenging document called Qualities of Authentic Relationships across Differences. Each of the qualities begins with the word “willingness.”

Willingness to be challenged. Willingness to be compassionate. Willingness to be an active listener even when I am not ready to hear. Willingness to hear anger and not take it personally. Willingness to remain in relationship.

They offer a thorough list of the many ways we can aspiring to be willing in order to cross divides. When I came across the list, I knew that practicing these many ways to be willing would occupy me for the rest of my life. It will always be practice.

I want to talk to you.

If we have ever disagreed and you feel I didn’t hear you, let’s get together and talk. If you simply need someone to hear you, let’s get together and talk.

I have made the invitation. The ball is in your court.

Are you willing to be willing?

Are you willing to invite someone else to be willing?

Let’s find ways to talk to each other.

Please.

Peace.