My daughter Lavender and I have lots of fascinating conversations. Even though she has challenges in learning, she has very little problem knowing. Once something is adequately explained to her, she always gets it. Better than that, she actually cognizes it and makes it her own. She understands a lot of difficult concepts which many of us fail to ever grasp. Genetics is one of them. Music is of course one of them. But spirituality even more. From the very beginning of our friendship she has been an intellectual companion to my many ways of thinking about philosophy, religion, the law of attraction, history and the concept of time.
We’ve also talked a lot about subjects like political correctness. We talk about how difficult it is to do it sometimes. Not because we feel that we shouldn’t strive to find better and more inclusive language. But because we know we aren’t being unloving in our use of them. We’re not like that. To us they’re just words, not slurs. Right? Not diminishments of people.
Even though they are.
And when we use them, even if not in hostility, we teach others it’s ok to do the same. We keep the words in use like keeping a balloon aloft. We further normalize it. We show by our example that we believe words don’t matter.
Even though they do.
It’s easy to see how people even slightly less intentional than we are about things like this would find it a great and pointless struggle to remember to call someone a “person with autism” rather than “an autistic.” Or “a gay.” Not that we prefer to be called “a person with homosexuality” either, so perhaps that’s not the best example.
The difference between “an autistic” and “a person with autism” doesn’t seem like much of a difference to some people and so, why bother? However, it’s a subtle yet very important distinction which has everything to do with remembering they are, in fact, a person, not a condition. As a person with conditions of my own I am not my diagnosis. I’m a person. And even the words I choose to describe myself should reflect that. I hope you hear me on this. We use words against ourselves all the time that continually pollute our own way of thinking about ourselves. And because it’s us we think it’s ok. I’m telling you it’s not.
Don’t call yourself stupid, even in jest. Don’t call yourself fat if you think fat is a bad thing. Because that’s the part that does all the work when it comes to the words we use about ourselves. Not the word, but what the word means to us. Someone told me the other day that my shoes were sick. I agree. But that’s because I know the word used that way is millennial-speak for awesome. And they are sick. But I am not. Loving words should start with those we use to describe ourselves first.
People don’t realize that by using the wrong words we subconsciously relegate people with disabilities to thinking of them only in terms of their disability, not their humanity. They become a walking diagnosis. Subtle thinking like this affects our choices in ways that mean the difference between giving someone a hand up or a hand out. Whether we teach them to fish and make them our equals (because we think they’re capable of it), or whether we give them a fish and make them our dependents (because we think they’re incapable of it).
People have a right to live to their fullest capacity. Their fullest dignity. And with our words we systematically strip them of options before they even know they exist. When we give them a fish we are saying to them that we don’t think they’re capable of learning to do it. And because it’s so subtle they come believe that about themselves without our ever having said it directly. Or worse, we are preventing them from learning on purpose to control them. That’s a thing.
Our language matters. The way we choose to describe things says a lot about our relationship with them. We either give away our hatred or our ignorance when we use terms now mostly out of date like ‘colored person,’ for instance. Of course, it’s not the ‘N’ word, but it’s not far. And when people use it, it shows that either they are aware of the fact that terms like that are considered unloving and display their bigotry by using them on purpose, or they are unaware of the history and use them in ignorance. For the record, ignorance is more forgivable. People can learn. But deliberate use requires a bit more effort to forgive. It’s hard to look hatred in the eye and remember that it’s really fear. Pray for them. It will ease your heart, too.
Our world is looking deeply in the mirror right now. A process that will and has taken generations to undergo. We are far from the brass ring of world peace. But how do we get from point A to point B?
Lavender and I talk a lot about what it means to “be a bridge.” I can tell you, it’s almost always difficult. Standing astride two separate shores and holding up all who cross. The weight of sojourners travelling from one land to another. Confused. Tired. Hungry. The dirt of the road clinging to them. Perhaps they don’t know the language. Perhaps they are afraid. I wonder if the bridge becomes as weary as the travellers who cross it. Perhaps yes. But for very different reasons.
I have a thought for you: Perhaps those of us who have embraced this new age in our world history rather than fear it could make a deliberate choice to help those across who are having a hard time. Because we are many of us standing on a brand new shore now. In hope, we built a foundation along the old shoreline before we left. The water we have crossed has been choppy, to say the least. But we have made it to the other side. Drenched, but alive. We can lay the foundations of a bridge over here also and build our way back across to the one we made before leaving. Bridging the gap between. We can help guide the others over.
We can be of service to this new age. In fact, we must. We understand that there is now a more loving countenance which has swept the earth, terrifying those who held power under different rules, in darker corners of our society now held to the light by things like cell phone cameras and the power of the internet. It’s easy to see why there is so much outrage. Very few people enjoy the process of being suddenly woken up. They resist to remain asleep. Just five minutes more...
How we respond to their resistance is everything. It also reveals the flaw in our thinking regarding how to approach those who are afraid of our new age. We should not think of things in terms of resistance. That’s exactly what they’re doing. They are the ones resisting us, resisting the new energy, the new world. What good does it do for us to resist them resisting us? Viva la resistance is a French term we’ve often heard which means ‘long live... the resistance.’ Itself? Well, if that’s what you’re going for have fun with that. I hope your tail is tasty, cause that’s all you’re chasing. If resistance is what you want, keep praying for it. You’ll keep getting more things to resist in your life. I personally would rather use my arms for hugging.
I also need my arms for building. Bridges, not walls. For carving out new pathways. new canals in the earth to help those more afraid than I am get here more easily than I did. That’s always been the job of a bridge builder. Or a teacher. A minister. A healer. These are the archetypes who help people go from one side of the river to the other. These are the ones who can say, “I’ve been where you are and I will show you how to get here.” These are the bridges.
There are those of us still in darkness. Some are in a darkness of their own making and they pull others into the dark along with them. Close your eyes for a moment and picture them there. Nothing but blinking eyes in the dark. Afraid, attacking, conspiring together to enclose their fear in an illusion of safety which is impossible to achieve, but still their fear compels them to try. Pray for them right now. Pray with me that their hearts be eased, that the peace of Spirit settle into them, softening them. Revealing the illusion, the lies, the fear for what it truly is. Pray that the truth sets them free. Be for them a spiritual bridge to a land they may still fear, but which will ultimately soothe their quaking souls. May they find welcome here on these new shores. Amen.
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