Note: This is an image of Hypatia of Alexandria from Wikipedia. I have learned a bit about her through my reading lately. Hypatia was a fourth century philosopher in Alexandria, Egypt. And, since I am philosophizing a bit here, I thought I would share one artist’s rendering of her in her honor.
The Sufi poet, Hafiz, said, “The words we speak become the house we live in.”
The Sufi poet, Rumi, said, “Wherever you stand, be the soul of that place.”
Jesus of Nazareth said, “If you forgive anyone, they are forgiven.” (John 20:23)
Such wisdom in these three statements; such agency and power to demonstrate cause and effect, to affect the fabric of time and space, to transform and free our own hearts, minds, and perspectives.
These statements cause me to consider myself, the words I build my life with; the spaces and ideals I stand in; and the reinforcing stories I revisit whenever I am feeling aggrieved. They cause me to ask myself more often one of the most powerfully transforming questions I have ever been wise enough to ask myself:
“What is needed here for healing?”
I usually have to breathe deeply before I ask it, not because it is a complicated or hard question, but rather because it often takes an open mind and undefended heart in order to hear the response. It takes me being willing to let go of something my ego wants to hold tightly to. It takes me being willing to step up or out when I really just want to sit down or retreat in.
If I am fraught or newly-angry about something, this question sits quietly in a corner of my consciousness until I calm down enough to hear it’s soft, gentle, querying.
If the powers-that-be are infuriating or frightening me, the question reassures me that we are not without agency, that my small actions do matter somehow, that rivers are rerouted one stone at a time, and even oak trees begin as little acorns.
Often, I am the one who needs healing, especially when my ego has wound and entangled itself into someone else’s actions and I try to infer meaning. I am always reminding myself these days that: what other people think of me is none of my business; what other people do is about them even when it affects me; how I respond is about me even when it affects them. That last one, that is where the question comes in: what needs healing, and what is the house/space/relationship I want to live in? How do I balance love with respect and healthy boundaries? What difference does it really make to me that whoever my ego is going on about at the moment does things differently than I do, or differently than I wish they would? Aren’t they also here to learn and to love? Don’t they also have tender hearts and eternal souls?
Often these days, malign men and a few patriarchal women seek and find new ways almost daily to work their injustice and terror-tactics upon anyone anywhere at any time. What needs healing in my neighborhood, my town, state, nation, and world? There is so much scope and need for healing it can be overwhelming, except that we begin with whatever and whoever is right in front of us.
One kindness at a time. One bit of generosity. One statement of truth. One call for justice. One wrong forgiven. One vote, one peaceful protest, one tree planted, one walk to the shops, one conversation with a neighbor, one hug, one smile, one pot of soup, one prayer, one realization.
May our words build houses/relationships/communities/nations and a world of love and justice. May loving souls radiate peace and all good. May we forgive and be forgiven for forgetting who we are and why we are really here. May healing fall like rain, spread through the air, grow from the earth, and emerge from the flames. May it be so.
Courage my dears. These are days we must reckon with. Love one another. I think loving one another is the cave we fear to enter though it holds the treasure we seek.* Shall we go in all together then? Let’s.
*Joseph Campbell, attributed
