It is a risk to speak from a place of authenticity. To quote the writer Ursula K. Le Guin, “Every act of communication is an act of tremendous courage,” and in her piece, Telling is Listening, she goes on to explain the possibility of “planting a seed,” or conversely, “being wholly misunderstood.” What I’d like to add is the tremendous disservice to “self” in avoiding the risk, and in this, a disservice to the “other.” Through authentic, sincere communication, we better nourish relationship. For a time, whether too wounded, or simply feeling unworthy, it might feel safer to simply nod and deflect to talking of the weather, but I feel that there comes a time in a life where playing it safe only diminishes self and relationship. The soul begins to holler, evident through symptoms from being starved of its’ rightful and necessary fuel in the potential of a seed planted–in the hunger to participate in the world. As human beings, it is our responsibility to accept this risk. Avoidance of it got us into this mess; accepting is the agency that will bring us out.
The ability to speak authentically is a gift not all of us received growing up. Some of us are from a generation raised by parents not at all skilled in such an offering. I am of that generation and decades passed before I managed to interpret the hollering of my own soul. Something was wrong and labeling it “depression” was a convenient diagnosis, a scenario too common in the collective, but it did lead me to search for better answers; I came to feel that life was nothing if I didn’t commit to the risk. With this came the necessity to heal trauma, experienced and ancestral, and I set to it. Your experience will be unique to you, but the commonality is that authentic communication requires access to your deeper self–that mysterious locus of the most powerful love revealed and amplified through acknowledgement, through healing. True healing can be an arduous process, but the experience is instrumental in manifesting a meaningful life; the sweet spot is the moment when you realize your traumas were gifts, essential compass readings orienting you toward wholeness, and yes the language can seem precious, but the words are apt. My own path continued through difficulties I never imagined, but lead me to find the strongest, most remarkable people who unknowingly helped me to acknowledge my own strength. The experience rescued me from the sucking mud of a social abyss where I was destined to relent and disappear. A nod here to Kairos–the mysterious timing of it all; I feel that I am oddly prepared to share what I have learned, at the perfect time on the planet.
Whatever the scenario, clock focus toward finding your deeper self to be fully present in the world. The nuance is sincere curiosity as by-product. Being curious is like tilling ground that is the relationship between you and the other, making it fertile. When you meet someone, are you making assumptions about them? Are you projecting your own shadow? As per Carl Jung, the late Swiss psychoanalyst, the goal is to be able to hold your own view, but also consider the perspective of the other, a sign of great emotional maturity. When both parties are so skilled, the interaction teems with energy. If the other isn’t committed, possibly sleepwalking, you meet them however you can. Sometimes all you can do is make sure, without judgement, that your own position is clear.
Committing to the risk requires thinking, and I like Kant's idea that what we think, and how we think has moral consequences. Thinking from a place of love makes all the difference; love of self is a must, and with that, love of the world is not far off. “The world is other people, your neighbours, and both they and you exist–if the circumstances allow–because of love.” Lindsey Stonebridge, “We Are Free to Change the World; Hannah Arendt's Lessons on Love, and Disobedience." I don’t love everyone in that Kum ba ya way, but I speak truth when I say that I do love people for simply being in the world. I may have cut them loose, deleted them from my contacts, or reviled the sight of them on TV, been appalled at their behaviour, but I still love some part of them as humans. “Sometimes love, in public as in private, means stepping back,” so writes Krista Tippett in her book, “Becoming Wise.” Pulling back levels the field by reminding us that every human started as a baby, and every human, whether gloriously happy, gracious, or miserable, will die; all in between is flexible story.
I am still deeply flawed, but acknowledging my deeper self–feeling that love, changed everything. I wish this for you in the coming challenge–the arrived challenge, of life on this planet. I hear mention of looking away, of escaping the risk, and for some that might be their path, but for the rest of us it is essential to summon our courage to show up, to risk sincere communication for the very future of humanity.