The stories I hear when I’m working can be extremely interesting. It’s astonishing how one sip of alcohol will spew out more stories than vomit to a stomach flu victim.
Some of the stories are tall tales so fake you can barely stand to listen. Some stories are laced with Hollywood…mostly true but added flare for your enjoyment. Some are just plain fun, the kind you wish you would have been there, but the teller tells it so well it feels like you WERE there. And then there are the painful ones, the ones that are raw, real and when you hear it you can feel your heart splitting in two.
While I’d like to dish about all of the former types of stories, I’m not that type of person. Generally what I hear stays within me, but a chord was struck on the later type of story and I can’t help but say something.
This story starts out with wine and a regular.
Per her usual, she was the last of the three to arrive. The others already a drink or two into the nightlong buzz. From afar you might wonder what common ground these three have. But most of us don’t dig deep enough to know what anyone has been through and the surface, “I’m fine” generally tides anyone over. A second look at the trio would tell you they have something that is anything but superficial in common.
Their conversation was intimate and quite. These three were not there to hoot, holler, and gain the attention of any males around, they are there with a purpose. It’s interesting because their lack of wanting attention actually brought it to them, something I wish more females would realize.
It’s getting late and the late night visitors are thining out. The first two to arrive are making their exit plan while the other comes to chat with my friend and me. She had an unexpected family member show up and we were talking to her about them. Within that conversation shit hit the fan.
I’ve never really been the type of female that deals well with tears. Although I talk a LOT I am at a loss of words when the waterworks start. When you throw a little resentment and tremendous amount of pain into that tear jerking session well…my tongue seems to grow ten times the size and I trip over my words.
This time was a little different. I didn’t stumble and trip, I actually had wisdom to share. Over the last few years, I’ve had some Ah-Ha moments regarding family members and I felt like it was something she needed to hear. Unfortunately the wine and shots clouded her ability to listen to what I was trying to say, which also made me realize, she probably didn’t want to talk to anyone but herself and the rest of us should just listen…. so we uncomfortably did.
Leaving her in the good hands of my friend, I stepped away for less than a minute and when I returned the conversation took a nasty turn. It probably wasn’t in an intentionally mean way, but racism doesn’t play well with other words.
She started compartmentalizing herself into these small boxes, separating herself from the rest of us, dwindling all the parts of her down until there wasn’t anyone that could possibly relate because everyone was SO different from her.
I wasn’t offended by the racist remarks she said that night. I didn’t even give her the “she’s drunk” pass. I actually felt really sad for her. Maybe I’m a dick because I don’t feel sad for the things that she’s been through (although they are terrible), I feel sad for her because she’s making one of the greatest mistakes of all time.
So often we define ourselves by our names, careers, family, family history, pasts, injuries, race, religion, sex, sexual preference, ALL these things that separate us from each other.
By doing this we are making the greatest mistake of identifying ourselves with something other than our divine nature. We are not all of these things we carry, we shouldn’t be burdened down with the heaviness of the ego. We need to stop seeing ourselves as a part when we are one whole.
It really doesn’t matter where you come from or where you’re going. If you take away the skin color, the family histories, the pain, the sorrow, the darkness, you will come to realize we are all the same. We all have hearts that beat, we all need to breath to live, behind the skin our parts are the same. Maybe if we stop compartmentzling ourselves into the tiny boxes WE built then we could heal. We can heal by stepping out of fear (the ego’s ONLY tool) and letting love in.
We are not separate. We are not alone. We are humans, together. Life is like being a parent, you don’t have experience in it until you do and then you give it your best shot. You’ll screw up, heck, you’ll probably want to quit some days, but you don’t you just keep showing up. And that’s how we need to approach life. Take all experiences with a grain of salt, sure they matter but you’re not a grain of salt you are part of a much bigger picture.
You deserve better than the stories you’re reliving day after day.
You are part of a whole. You are part of the bigger picture.
The thing about racism is it wins, but only if you let it. It is the ego with a mask on.
Start unpacking all of those little boxes and descriptions you placed yourself in and join us. Tear down the walls you’ve built and come and be a human with the rest of us. No one will know if we’re doing it right, but DAMN, we’re going to give it one hell of a try.
Namaste, Jes xoxo