The Elephant and the Blind Men

Many, many years ago, I was told a story about blind men meeting an elephant. This story continues to pop into my head (and has for the last several years). It is based on a book called "The Elephant In The Dark" written by Idries Shah. Here is a summary written about the book:

A group of blind men heard that a strange animal called an elephant had been brought to the town, but none of them were aware of its shape and form. Out of curiosity, they said: "We must inspect and know it by touch, of which we are capable." So, they sought it out and when they found it, they groped about it. 

In the case of the first person, whose hand landed on the trunk, he said "This being is like a thick snake". 

For another one whose hand reached its ear, it seemed like a kind of fan. 

As for another person, whose hand was upon its leg, they said, "the elephant is a pillar like a tree-trunk." 

The blind man who placed his hand upon its side said the elephant, "is a wall". 

Another who felt its tail, described it as a rope. 

The last felt its tusk, stating the elephant is that which is hard, smooth and like a spear.

The blind men discover their disagreements, assume others are lying, come to blows. 

It is obvious to me why this story keeps coming into my mind, as it seems to be an accurate depiction of what is continuing to play out in our world. I see people passionately holding on to certain beliefs based on what they believe to be true (i.e. what part of the elephant they are touching) . . . and I see people coming to blows over what other people are saying because based on what THEY believe, certainly the other people must be lying (or they are conspiracy theorists or idiots).  :-)

In those cases what we aren't considering is that maybe it's ALL true. Maybe because we are only looking at one piece of the pie (or elephant) and because we aren't seeing the big picture (the whole elephant), we aren't able to see that each of us may be holding a piece of the truth. 

Maybe what we see feels like the truth because it is based on what we have learned, what we have experienced, what we have been exposed to. Maybe it's not that we're "blind" but because we're wearing different glasses, with different prescriptions (or filters), we are seeing something different. 

So here is something to consider . . . What if we are ALL correct? What if all of us are touching the elephant but the elephant is so big that we can only understand the part of the elephant that is right in front of us? 

How much unity might we be able to create if we considered that we are "right" and so are the other people whose views we are fighting against? I invite you to sit with that a moment . . .

What do you think would happen if we approached others with curiosity rather than condemnation for having a different belief or understanding?  Is it possible we may learn something? Could we ask more questions and possibly gain a deeper understanding of why someone holds a different belief? Could we even look for points of agreement? 

Maybe from there, we could talk a bit more and learn how both perspectives could be true. Or at least say "thank you for sharing more about your perspective" That might at least leave a door ajar for future discussions rather than slam a door closed, right?

Is this something you would consider? I am not saying you have to - I am merely suggesting that maybe a different approach might bring about different outcomes. Maybe it will bring more harmony to our interactions with the people who are touching a different part of the elephant. Maybe we can begin to build bridges instead of burning the bridges down. 

 

Reacting Based on Half The Story (refresh from July 2020)

 Through most of my adult life, I had a very challenging relationship with my mother. I held firm to my belief that she didn't really care about me or my feelings and I viewed every action and every inaction through that filter.  

In my quest to heal the past, I discovered that my relationship with my mother began to unravel when I was in high school and sadly it could have been prevented if more honesty had been present.

It all started on a holiday weekend when my boyfriend came over with a couple dozen roses for me and not only would I not touch the roses, I would barely speak to him. My mother grabbed me by the arm, squeezing it so tightly her fingernails left deep impressions in my skin. Pulling me to the other side of the kitchen, she sternly told me that I was being an ungrateful little shit and that I'd better pull myself together and start acting the way I had been raised to act when someone gives me a gift. 

I remember feeling utterly stunned. I felt betrayed by her. I felt that she was telling me that "being gracious" - even if it was fake - was more important than the truth of why I was acting that way or the depth of pain I was feeling inside. I decided that she didn't understand me or care about my feeling and from that moment on, those were the "glasses" I wore when it came to my mom. Everything she did or said was seen and judged from that perspective.

But the truth was, my mom didn't know WHY I was acting that way towards my boyfriend because I never told her. 

What she didn't know was that the day before, he and I had been with our two best friends "celebrating" the holiday weekend aka "doing some underage drinking." My boyfriend had way too much to drink and in his drunken stupor he had decided that he was tired of waiting for me to be ready for sex and he had attempted to rape me. If his best friend hadn't heard me screaming and come to my rescue, he likely would have been successful. His friend pulled him off me with such force, he slammed him up against the wall. Too scared to move, I remained where I was on the floor, huddled in the corner of the room, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. My best friend rushed to my side, while his friend dragged him out of the room, berating him for what he had just done to me.

I hadn't even had a chance to start processing what had just happened when his best friend ran back into the room to tell us that my boyfriend had announced he was going to kill himself and took off in his car. I remember saying, "He's driving?" He was so drunk he could barely walk - I shuddered to think he was behind the wheel of a car. We all rushed out to the front yard but he (and the car) were nowhere in sight.

At that point the tears began flowing, although it was such a jumbled mixture of emotions, I felt like my head was going to explode. I just sat there on the front lawn and sobbed, my chest heaving up and down, sandwiched between his best friend and mine, with neither of them knowing how to help me in that moment. 

I felt angry and betrayed by my boyfriend . . . I was afraid of him and what he was capable of . . . I was scared to death that he was going to actually kill himself . . . . I worried that it would be my fault if he did. My sixteen year old self wasn't able to cope with all that had just happened. I needed him to come back and be ok and yet a part of me didn't want him to come back because he had broken my heart and my trust so deeply. Everything was swirling around so quickly inside of me, I was sure I would throw up.

He eventually came back - and while I was grateful he didn't kill himself - I think it was our relationship that died that day. It was just never the same. The events that unfolded that day impacted me in more ways than I understood at the time. It took years for me to unravel the myriad of ways that weekend had shaped my beliefs and my own behavior . . . to see and understand why certain things triggered me into unconscious reactions from that point forward.

The next day, I chose to put most of the blame on my mother. I made her the "bad guy" in this because I thought she didn't care about what happened to me and how scared and confused I was. In my mind, she was trying to force me to act in a way that was about "keeping up appearances" instead of showing me any compassion. My boyfriend claimed he had blacked out and didn't remember what had happened (which was entirely possible) so there was no way I could talk to him about it. Our friends didn't want to talk about it. I wasn't sure I could talk about it either. I think all of us wanted to pretend it hadn't occurred. 

I didn't tell my mom what happened and I blamed her for that too - justifying that she hadn't ASKED me why I was acting that way towards my boyfriend - which to me was proof that she didn't care. I further justified my silence by holding the assumptions that she wouldn't understand or that she wouldn't believe me or that she would think I was being overly dramatic about the whole thing or that I would get in trouble for drinking. And yes, I had good reasons for making those assumptions, but I never gave her the chance to show me something different because I was so set in my beliefs. I had found someone to blame - end of story.

But the truth was - SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HAD HAPPENED. She didn't know the TRUTH because I didn't tell her. I didn't take responsibility for the fact that she didn't know. I was content to stick with my version of the story for decades - that my mom didn't care about my feelings. Sticking to my version of the truth kept me from having a better relationship with my mother - I see that and own that now.

So why am I recounting this highly dramatic event from my past today? Because it highlights what I see happening in our world right now. We are in an incredibly emotionally charged time and I see people doing so many of the same things . . . Can you see all the parallels?

- Blaming people for what they are doing/not doing without understanding the whole story.

- Reacting to things without having all the information. (and I say that with understanding not blame, as it is not easy to access truthful information or to discern what IS true out of the sea of conflicting information out there) 

- Shaming people for not knowing the truth, when they haven't been told the truth or are unable to find it.

- Holding onto our beliefs (and our version of the story) so tightly that we can't see anything else.

- Deciding how people are going to react before they have a chance to show us anything different.

At this moment in time, many of us are so caught up in the emotions that are surging forth that we often can't see outside of our own stories or see the bigger picture. If we continue on this path, I believe the divide between us is going to get wider and wider. Our relationships with others might become so damaged they will be nearly impossible to heal. Our ability to come together to find resolutions may also be greatly diminished. If we operate so heavily from a place of fear like that, we might even forget what it is like to feel love and connection.

So here is my challenge to you . . . would you be willing to do any of the following? 

- Listen to someone else's point of view with an ear towards where your beliefs might be in alignment instead of where they are different.

- Consider the possibility that we may be reacting to misinformation or "half of the story."

- Remember that we need many of the same things . . . to be heard, to be understood, to be supported.

- Offer compassion to others - whether we agree with them or not.

- Look inside and see where we can take some responsibility for what is occurring or where we can take some action, instead of just judging others for what is happening.

- Be open to new information that may not line up with what we have always believed to be true.

- Ask ourselves: Do I want to know the truth? Or do I want to believe that I "know it all"? 

Furthermore - Can we consider the possibility that we have ALL been lied to about what is really happening in the world and that maybe none of us know the full truth / the full story?

We can continue to believe "our side/story" is right and the "other side/story" is wrong if we want . . . but we just may find that both sides are equally flawed and equally complicit. Do you want to stay in that place of separation? If you do that is ok too.

I believe the time is upon us to make a change . . . to open our ears and open our hearts . . . to come together and unite - with compassion . . . to find out way to peace, love and unity. We can change this world we live in if we choose to . . . one moment at a time . . . one day at a time . . . one person at a time. It truly is up to us. The question is: What are you going to choose? 

P.S.  For those of you who are concerned and/or feeling sorry for me regarding the story I shared, please know that everything is ok now. Gratefully my mom and I were able to reach a place of resolve and forgiveness before she passed away and my high school boyfriend and I are actually at peace with each other (with a lot of effort over the years to work through our past and find understanding and forgiveness.)  I am happy to say that I was finally able to heal all the drama and trauma that occurred from that holiday weekend. It is probably the reason why it was easy to share this story because we all managed to reach the "other side" of it - therefore it was / is possible for it to be a "neutral example." 

The Downside of Labeling Someone

 Not all labels are bad . . . certainly if you are decluttering your house or garage, it can be very helpful to have bins that are labeled Keep, Donate and Trash as a way of speeding up the process. Labels that we attach to humans are not nearly as helpful though and can often hinder our relationships and our ability to see another perspective.

I have found that as soon as we attach a "label" to someone, we often stop being curious and we stop learning things about them. It's like we say to ourselves "Ok, they are in THAT bucket, no need to learn anything more about them." In our society right now we're relying on a lot of labels and we're pretty quick to toss someone into one of those "labeled buckets" and walk away.

Today, I'd like to ask you to consider something different.

What if rather than immediately judging someone and subscribing a label to them, you approached them with curiosity. Kind of a "Hey I'd like to understand more about why you did or said or believe that." You might be surprised at what you learn.

As an example, many years ago when Charlton Heston was the head of the NRA, I decided to stay home and watched the annual NRA meeting that was being broadcast on cable that night rather than go out with my friends. Much to my disappointment, when my friends found out why I was staying home I was immediately labeled "one of them" and treated as if I had somehow become someone they didn't like as much. No one asked why I wanted to watch the meeting nor did they show any interest in understanding where I was coming from, which I found curious and disappointing (Thankfully, I didn't let it stop me from watching it).  Even later, when I tried offering up an explanation, I was quickly shut down with negative comments and jokes.

The truth was I had two reasons for tuning in.

1) Charlton Heston had been my most favorite actor since I was a little girl. I used to write letters to movie stars all the time and he was the ONLY one who ever wrote me back. He (Well, most likely his assistant) even sent me a couple signed black and white photos of him following the release of the movie Earthquake and my nine years old self was over the moon! I followed his career closely after that, never missed a movie he made. Over time, I discovered even more reasons to admire him for the person he was outside of a movie studio. He hadn't been making movies in recent years and I missed seeing him so I looked forward to watching him give the opening ceremony speech. 

2) I had been anti-gun my whole life. Frankly, I was afraid of them. Then I went to college in the Pacific northwest. Many of my classmates had very different views about guns because they had grown up around them and I regretted that I had never asked questions or shown any curiosity. I just slapped a label on them and that was that. (Well, that and I often found ways to make snide comments about guns whenever I could slip one into a conversation). So my second reason for watching that night was that I wanted to educate myself. 

I was shocked by how much I learned in just one night. Many of the things they spoke about in the meeting were in direct conflict with what I had been told and what I had read in all of my political and anti-gun literature, etc. There was a big disparity between what I had been told regarding their priorities and what they were standing for. I didn't know who was telling the truth but it made me want to explore it further before I blindly signed another petition or checked a box on election day. 

I never had any regret about watching the Annual meeting that night. Not just because it made me so happy to see Charlton again but because it opened my eyes to the fact that not everything I was being told was the truth. Often what we are told is SOME truth with a bunch of opinions and suppositions wrapped around it but the closer I looked at things, the more I began to see a trend emerging. 

Things were often written (by most everyone with a "cause") as a way to sway people one way or another, not necessarily to educate them. (I saw evidence of this in BOTH political parties). I began paying much closer attention to what facts/data were present in what I read vs. what seemed more focused on eliciting an emotional response and I was a bit stunned to realize how often the goal seemed to be more focused on eliciting an emotional response without the facts to back up all the statements being made. The more I paid attention, the more easily I could recognize what was happening . . . that alone has been a very useful skill for me in the years since - especially lately.

The other things that I believe is dangerous about labels is that words we use can hold different meaning to different people. A humorous example of this was the time I was out with a large group of my work colleagues and I mentioned that I had been a cheerleader in junior high and high school. Over half the people at the table looked at me like they were suddenly smelling rotten fish, followed by "You were WHAT?" The look of distain on their faces told me that their definition of "someone who is/was a cheerleader" was very different than mine (and even different amongst them) Based on people's personal experiences with cheerleaders, the term might conjure thoughts of them being heart breakers or air-heads or mean girls. That was when I began seeing how charged certain words can be for each of us. Based on the experiences we've had, the way we personally define a word (label) can vary greatly.

My point in sharing all of this is that I believe the labels we are relying on so heavily right now are often keeping us locked in a state of polarity and judgment - an "us vs. them" mindset instead of helping us find common ground, seeing things from another perspective and working together to resolve issues. These labels can keep us from seeing things from our hearts, they can keep us from understanding or feeling compassion for others and they can keep us from looking for solutions that bring people together instead of being even more divided.

I think that as soon as we label someone, we miss out on the opportunity to see the person as a human being . . . a human being who has reasons for what they think, what they believe, the choices they make . . . and I guarantee you that not all the reasons are the same. How could they be? We are all individuals, who have had a wide array of life experiences and different challenges along the way. 

It is my believe that if we can stop labeling people, we can more easily look at others with kindness and compassion and this gives us the opportunity to see so much more. And if we can approach others with curiosity, I believe there is so much we can learn. Furthermore, if we can place more value on who a person really is rather than the label that has been assigned to them, we might be able to open the door to deeper relationships with them. We might even find ways to unite, to work together, to help each other.

Would you be willing to give it a try? You might be surprised by how much common ground is there and you may find a new level of respect for people you would have previously ignored or written off.

Our Acts Of Kindness CAN Make A Difference

 I am resharing this blog post from July of 2022 because I still have these same hopes. It is still my hope that this blog will somehow reach the man who made such a difference in my life, that it will help people see how impactful acts of kindness can be and that it will inspire others to keep helping others. No action is too small. I believe every bit of kindness can create ripples of positivity.

When I was in college, I was on the rowing team. Practice was at 5am, which was brutal enough but the closer it got to finals and the later into the evening I had to study, the harder it was to get my sleep deprived body up with that morning alarm. One particular morning, I woke up to see I had less than 5 minutes to get myself dressed and to the bus stop around the corner where our team bus picked up those of us in the surrounding dorms. I don't know if I forgot to set the alarm or if I set it and slept through it - all I knew is that I had to get MOVING. I managed to get sweats on, several layers of shirts and my socks when I heard the sound of the bus down the street. 

Grabbing my jacket and my tennis shoes, I went running out of my dorm room, flying down the steps outside hoping to make it in time. Luck wasn't on my side, as the bus pulled away from the curb before I could even make it across the grass in front of my dorm. The thing was I HAD to be at practice. Coach had been very clear - if we missed a practice that week, we would not be able to participate in the Regatta that weekend - so I needed to get to practice. Running behind the bus, I screamed and wildly waved my right arm, while my left hand clutched my tennis shoes and my jacket. There was half melted snow on the ground so my wool socks were quickly becoming very wet and very heavy but I refused to let that slow me down. I just kept running . . . yet when I heard Fr. Siconolfi shift the bus into a higher gear, I could feel my heart sink. There was no way I'd catch the bus now.

Just then a man pulled up in a small blue truck. He rolled down the passenger window (which he had to do by hand - this was in the 80's after all) and yelled "Do you need to catch that bus?" Gasping for air, all I could do was nod my head yes, so he opened the door from the inside and motioned for me to get in. Diving into the front seat of his truck, we were on the move before I had even pulled the door all the way closed. He quickly shared that his sons had played football and he knew how important it was to never miss a practice. 

I'm pretty sure he ignored all the posted speed limit signs as we flew down the road, making a hard left, then a hard right at the next corner. We were then on the two-lane straight part of the road. I remember this kind man had a very hot cup of coffee in a paper cup wedged between his legs so he could keep shift gears to keep pace with the bus and I also recall worrying several times that it was going to spill on him. 

Fortunately for me, he seemed as determined as I was to not have me miss practice so he did his best to stay lined up with the bus. Continuing to flail my arms wildly while yelling to get his attention, Father Siconolfi remained oblivious to the girl hanging out the window of the small blue truck. Fortunately one of my teammates, in their hazy sleep deprived state, finally noticed me and got him to pull over. Quickly thanking the man, I grabbed my tennis shoes and jacket and made a beeline for the bus. 

Over the years whenever I shared this story, hoping people would understand why I believed in the good side of humanity (and why I loved Spokane so much), most of the time they didn't get it. The part that most people latched onto was that "I got into a stranger's truck." They responded with things like "He could have been a serial killer" and "Maureen you are just way too trusting." (Geez, what if I was the serial killer? He would have been the one putting his life in danger by stopping to help me!!) LOL

I have continued to share the story though - in an attempt to illustrate my belief that there are wonderful people everywhere - people who are willing to lend a hand - showing up when we need them most and going the extra mile. At times we may have to pay more attention to notice these genuine acts of kindness but they are out there and they are in more places than we might see reported on mainstream media. 

I have thought of the kindness of this man so many times in the last thirty some odd years and I still feel so much gratitude for his help that day. What he did for ME has inspired me over the years to keep offering kindness and support to others. Sometimes when my faith in humanity wobbles a bit, all I have to do is pull up the memory of that morning and I am instantly reconnected with the remembrance of what he did for me and the faith that it instilled in me. I believe that there are people like him all over the world - quietly making a difference without any expectation of accolades - merely doing these things because they feel inspired to take action. 

My only regret from that morning was that I never got his name so I was not able to thank him properly or as profusely as my heart wanted to. So this post has three purposes:

1) To encourage people to look for the good in humanity. If you take the time to look, you will see examples and it will likely result in you noticing even more of the ways people are being there for each other. (And let's face it, how can that not put a smile on your face and in your heart.)

2) To inspire people to stay open to the opportunities where they can support others and be the illustration of the goodness that exists in the world. You may never know how many ripples of kindness it will create yet I have seen evidence time and again where someone's act of kindness inspired someone else to do something kind. We have the power to make our humanity a force to be reckoned with and I believe that every effort we make can and will make a difference.

3) That someone who lived in Spokane back in the 80s might know a man who drove a small blue truck and would have been on his way to work at 5:00 in the morning, who has sons who played football. My hope is that by some miracle he will somehow end up seeing this. It would make me so very happy if he knew how grateful I was and still am for his help that morning and how much he has inspired me over the years. The funny thing is that I don't think we even did all that well in the Regatta that weekend but I got to be there and I got to row because thanks to him I didn't miss practice that morning. 

If you feel moved to share actions - either witnessed or done by you - that have restored your faith in humanity, please feel free to write about them in the comments. I'd love to see them and I bet others would too. 

ps: I keep thinking about the movie Powder (1995) and how a line in the movie gave me such huge goosebumps that I wrote it on a post-it note and placed it on the refrigerator so I would see it every day (and that post-it note was there for decades). If I recall correctly, Jeff Goldblum's character said something like "My hope is that one day our humanity will surpass our technology." That was and still is something I hope to experience as well . . . and I truly believe that we have the ability to create it.

Where Is Our Compassion?

In our current reality, that seems to be filled with polarity and division, where people are feeling helpless and hopeless, there has never been a time where compassion is more needed . . . so I find it quite troubling that our headlines are still filled with name calling and more attempts to keep us divided. I saw something this week that bothered me so much, I feel compelled to speak up and say something. 

The headline was about a news reporter who was confronted by a "crazy man" . . . this headline showed up over and over and over again . . . sometimes they changed the word from "crazy to deranged" but basically every headline made fun of and denigrated the man who approached the news reporter, Shaquille Brewster.  

My first thought was "Why on earth would they label the man that way?" I watched the short clip, which was the only clip I could find because every single news outlet showed the exact same thing and in it you can hear the man saying "Report accurately!" A man wants accurate reporting . . . why did he get labeled with such derogatory terms? 

The "scene" of this event took place in Gulfport, Mississippi . . . an area that had just experienced sustained winds of up ago 150mph from Hurricane Ida. Rather than labeling the man "crazy" or "deranged" why wasn't anyone asking if he was ok? If he wanted to make sure the reporter was reporting accurately, he must have had a reason for it. If he was acting aggressively, why wasn't anyone asking WHY? 

On the heels of 150pmh winds, do we know what this man has been through? Did he lose his home? His business? Was he missing loved ones? Did he have anywhere to go? Anything to eat? Did he need help of some sort? 

Yesterday, I saw another headline about this "event" so I clicked on the article to see if there was more information. The article was about the number of people who reached out to the reporter, Shaquille Brewster, to make sure he was ok.  Every article I clicked on said the exact same thing . . . it was about the outpouring of support he was receiving for being confronted on the beach the other day.  

What about the man who confronted him? Do we know if HE is ok? Do we know why he was so concerned about accurate reporting? Surely he must have had a reason for coming across as upset as he seemed to be. Do we know if HE needs support right now? Is anyone reaching out to him to make sure that HE is ok? Where is our compassion for someone who quite probably LIVES in Gulfport? (I am making that assumption based on the fact that from what I could tell, the only people in Gulfport at the time were residents and reporters - feel free to correct me if I am wrong). Why isn't there an outpouring of support for him? I couldn't fall asleep that night because I couldn't stop thinking about the man in the video . . . and the rest of the people who have been in the path of Hurricane Ida. 

I read today that flooding was already occurring in Gulfport. I sent all the love and compassion I could (and will continue to do so) . . . to the man in the video and to all the people who are being affected by Hurricane Ida. And yet, I know we can still do more. 

So where is our compassion?  I know it's out there but you'd never know it from what you see in the news.  The people who are being affected by these "acts of nature" all over the world need our compassion  . . . they need our support. They don't need to be called names and ridiculed in our headlines. I know we can do better . . . 

At times like these, I am brought back to some of my favorite music  . . . music I grew up on that always touched my heart and my soul. Today, I share the lyrics of one of my favorite Diana Ross songs:

Reach out and touch: 

Reach out and touch somebody's hand. Make this world a better place if you can

Reach out and touch, somebody's hand, make this world a better place if you can

(Just try)

Take a little time out of your busy day to give encouragement to someone who's lost their way

Or would I be talking to a stone if I asked you to share a problem that's not your own

We can change things if we start giving. 

Why don't you reach out and touch somebody's hand, make this world a better place if you can. Reach out and touch, somebody's hand, make this world a better place if you can.

(Just try) 

If you see an old friend on the street and he's down, remember his shoes could fit your feet

Try a little kindness, you'll see, it's something that comes very naturally. We can change things if we start giving.

Why don't you reach out and touch - why don't you reach out and touch somebody's hand - make this world a better place if you can. 

ps:  I have since read that they issued a warrant for the man's arrest (with a list of charges that did NOT match anything I saw in the video) and then another update that he had been found and put in jail. Again, I ask - Where is our compassion??  Who is going to tell HIS side of the story? When are we going to decide that name calling people in the headlines (without looking at and reporting on the other side of the story) is something we won't accept?