The Cheapest Room & What are You Feeding?

I thought of this when I noticed myself worrying about my son attending the Nutcracker Ballet after the attack in Berlin. Could that festive public gathering be a target? Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I thought of this when a local city council member and friend received a vicious and crude threat from an angry constituent. Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I think of this when I find myself following worst-case scenarios to scary conclusions in my mind. The gutting of the EPA, which is finally beginning to nudge Utah lawmakers to make cleaning up our terrible air pollution a priority. (Fear wonders…. will air quality take an even bigger decline with pro-coal and anti-EPA government?) Fear is the cheapest room in the house.  There’s fear of a registry for Muslims and worry about devolving toward internment camps as happened with the Japanese here during WW2, or worse, something like the decline into the horror of what unfolded with the Nazis and Jewish people. Fear is the cheapest room in the house. There has been so much hate speech, utterly crude behavior, and a gaping absence of human decency on display that it can be quite disheartening.

Yesterday I received a card in the mail from a lovely woman who has been a student, client, and friend over years. Such a thoughtful card, full of detail and specific gratitudes for things she’s appreciated learning from me and sharing what is happening in her life. Reading two pages of lovely tiny handwriting with such generosity of spirit was heartening fuel and put me back in touch with my wise, courageous heart. Oh yeah. That’s what I stand for! I have so much more to offer when I’m not situated in the cheapest room in the house.I was so touched by her simple gesture and what a heartening gift it was and is for my inner life.

And I thought again of that great old story, one so classic that it’s attributed to many different Native American cultures and other people as well. I’m sure you know it. A grandfather is explaining to his grandson that we each have two wolves battling in our hearts – one wolf is the wolf of hatred and fear and the other is the wolf of love and courage. The grandson asks, “Grandfather, which one will win?” The old man wisely says, “It depends which one you feed.”

Which one will win?
It depends which one we feed.

Hafiz helps feed my love wolf.
The thank-you card fed my courageous wolf.
Love and the high road can be as contagious as fear, and I know which one I’d like to feed.

But damn, sometimes it’s hard.  I confess sometimes during December just navigating the tight aisles at Trader Joe’s, when I see grumpy people huffing or glaring at children in the way of them reaching a jar of olives or a bag of chips, I can start to lose my love of humanity. Seriously, people?
Yet it feeds my good wolf when someone flashes a smile. When someone lets a driver merge into their lane with a smile instead of a shaming glare. When a kind person makes it easier for someone else. Obviously, I can’t control the other shoppers or drivers, but I can try to be kind myself, even when I’m a bit horrified by some of my fellow adults. Shopping in December is like advanced spiritual practice. I don’t always fare so well. But I’ll keep trying my best.

Another line that keeps bubbling up is one I have had on my bulletin board for years. This one’s from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Do you know the powerful story of Dr. King on the steps of a courthouse, approached by a hateful man spewing insults and anger and who ultimately hocked a wad of spit on Dr. King? His response is a model of the high road.  He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, grabbed the wad of spit with it, and handed it to the man with full dignity, saying, “I think this belongs to you.” Wow. I’m inspired.

Hanging out on this slippery slope, hoping we don’t slide into a world with ever more fear, violence, and division, let’s keep feeding our own and each other’s good wolves. Let’s dig in with more kindness and courage than we think we can muster. Let’s keep expanding our circles of care wider and wider. Sending you warmest wishes on this beautiful day and wholeheartedly celebrating the return of the light.
xoxo
Erin

How about a poem?
(Perhaps this line can come up as a mantra to replace inner fear-mongering. “Make of yourself a light.” I’ll take it. )

“Make of yourself a light,”
said the Buddha,
before he died.
I think of this every morning
as the east begins
to tear off its many clouds
of darkness, to send up the first
signal — a white fan
streaked with pink and violet,
even green.
An old man, he lay down
between two sala trees,
and he might have said anything,
knowing it was his final hour.
The light burns upward,
it thickens and settles over the fields.
Around him, the villagers gathered
and stretched forward to listen.
Even before the sun itself
hangs,disattached, in the blue air,
I am touched everywhere
by its ocean of yellow waves.
No doubt he thought of everything
that had happened in his difficult life.
And then I feel the sun itself
as it blazes over the hills,
like a million flowers on fire —
clearly I’m not needed,
yet I feel myself turning
into something of inexplicable value.
Slowly, beneath the branches,
he raised his head.
He looked into the faces of that frightened crowd.