What is Unity?
I can still turn around…The thought passed through the recesses of my mind as my foot pressed down on the accelerator, legs clenching against the driver’s seat where anxiety gathered. It was the Friday of Labor Day weekend—the opening day of the Naperville Jaycees’ Last Fling—and despite my best attempts at optimism, especially after realizing that Looks Can Kill, the paralyzing doubt couldn’t be shook. Uncertainty coursed through my entire body, and there was no where to go with it other than inward. That’s understandable, though, right? After all, months of planning and troubleshooting were finally taking shape as the actual event; throughout the week, the two-dimensional maps rose up, building out the framework for something spectacular. However, opening day was a whole other story. What if everything falls apart? What if it all goes wrong?!
Fortunately, I was prepared for such a negative spin cycle. The day prior, I received a thoughtful gift from the daughter of a couple of dedicated volunteers who would be serving with me during the weekend: a beautifully threaded bracelet that matched the colors of our shirts. It was a simple gesture, but one that meant a lot as I began feeling isolated in my role and responsibilities leading up to the event. I wasn’t alone, and the bracelet holding firmly on my wrist was a clear illustration. I drove on, allowing the vibrant accessory to do its magic. Sure enough, it steadied my heart and pushed me forward. I was ready. At least, I thought I was…
What began as a jovial “cheers” to the weekend ahead with my fellow volunteers at a local bar sank quickly when I arrived on site. It seemed like everything I touched turned to sh*t, pulling me from one mistake to the next. It was a humbling experience leading up to our launch, and my drive to fight/flight was just barely stalled by the bracelet gripping closely to my skin. When we did officially open, a weight was released—we did it!—however it was a short-lived reprieve as the Last Fling became the focus of widespread negativity. It seemed like we, as an event committee and nonprofit organization, couldn’t get anything right in the eyes of the community, vendors, and sponsors. We were lambasted on social media, via email, text messages, phone calls, to our faces, behind our backs…As a result, it became increasingly difficult to remain unified through the frustration and confusion that was rattling our minds and upending our ranks. In the most challenging moments, I would look to my bracelet and consider why I agreed to volunteer in the first place; eventually, I came up with an answer: to create a memorable experience for those who helped me develop into a better leader through the Jaycees while raising necessary funds so the organization can continue its outstanding work. By the time the event was over, I was speeding away in the opposite direction, ready to ditch this ruthless chapter of my life that never failed at making me feel so limited and wrong.
“Two people can have opposite opinions and conflicting viewpoints, yet both can be right. Enmity and bitterness occur when people respond reactively to one another, with intolerance to each other’s view. True spirituality disregards value concepts of right and wrong. It aspires to a higher truth, the notion of unity, sensitivity, and tolerance for other viewpoints” (145). I knew you wouldn’t let me get too far, Yehuda Berg. In the latest round of The Name Game via The 72 Names of God, I landed on Unity after making brief stops at Diamond in the Rough and Soul Mate, and the words leapt off the page to join forces with my heart: “We need to seek harmony with our opponents—not because this is moral behavior, but because unity brings us lasting spiritual Light” (144). Having read this prior to the event, I focused on bringing unity to my reality every chance I could, offering smiles, hugs, words of encouragement, and a listening ear when my heart lead me there; in turn, this boosted my understanding of this name through some powerful moments with fellow volunteers. But it’s difficult to not react when a sponsor is yelling at you about not being listed on the t-shirts. Or when the hired help is sauntering around while the volunteers are busting their asses, their bodies gradually breaking down. Or when the friendships you knew would be tested through the process are ultimately pulled toward enmity and bitterness.
Unity. Ha! Much like the United States, United Airlines, and, sorry (not sorry), United Way, there seems to be more flaws in the ways we connect—the ways we inspire a global community—when looking closely at the concept under a harsh light. I mean, do you know how many people died as I wrote this entry? This sentence? And how many died at the hands of others? I mean, that’s the ultimate wrong: to kill someone. To take away someone’s viewpoint, their concepts of right and wrong, their beliefs. Still, it becomes such a gray area when enmity and bitterness enter the picture. While death is the answer for us all, we expedite the process for some to instill justice, peace, and…unity. Sorry, Berg, but this time you’ve been had. The very concept of unity is flawed, because it is superseded by our notion of being right or wrong. When we are wrong, sometimes it’s right when others unite against us to destroy us. When we are right, sometimes it’s wrong to unite with others in support of our views. See, you’re wrong, Berg; I’m right!
“It is only the ego that worries itself with being right or wrong.”
Damn you.
Fight club
Credit: Rihanna
The obvious place to start this deep dive is to look at the extremes of my reactions. According to “How the Fight or Flight Response Works” by Kendra Cherry, “The fight-or-flight response, also known as the acute stress response, refers to a physiological reaction that occurs in the presence of something that is terrifying, either mentally or physically. The response is triggered by the release of hormones that prepare your body to either stay and deal with a threat or to run away to safety.” Duh. This is something we, as a society, have come to understand and accept; in many ways, it defines who we are. Look at Kendra’s choice of words: “stay and deal” or “run away.” Masculinity pops up, elbows out, forcing me to push back firmly against the toxicity. FIGHT! Getting in the face of Berg, it doesn’t seem like fights can be avoided sometimes; its hardwired in us. Even Berg must admit if his life (or the life of someone close to him) was threatened, he would react as if that opposing individual (or group) was wrong and protect/defend by fighting. Right?
In an effort to not enforce my “rightness”—rather, to consider I might be…wrong—I pose the question: is fighting really necessary? I scan through my memory and feel the pull toward anger in each situation; if my anger is resolved, perhaps there is a chance to resolve this fighting stance. What is it I’m fighting for/against, then? I’m brought back to a moment in time, senior year of high school, when a friend and I were at my parent’s house after school. We were talking about something animatedly—nothing of significant consequence—when I sought out a magazine I set aside with an article about the topic. Looking in the last place I left it but coming up empty, I asked my father for assistance since he was prone to move my things around the house when they didn’t suit him. My perspective, of course. He responded that he hadn’t seen or moved it (his perspective); however, his tone communicated something different, and my acute stress response kicked in: FIGHT! Seconds later, we were at each other’s throats, literally, spouting out angry words. Meanwhile, my friend cowered downstairs watching the scene unfold; from his perspective, it probably looked ridiculous: two people that loved each other reduced to an awkward fight because of a magazine.
There was more to it than that…our tolerance for each other’s viewpoints was already in peril. The screaming matches from 3 feet away. The slammed doors (and ensuing doors off the hinges). The battles of wits, pitting us against one another to reign supreme with “rightness.” So much unnecessary posturing, most of it because I was too afraid to tell my dad how I really felt, how much it hurt that I couldn’t be honest with him. I desperately wanted to be seen and heard—to be understood—but I failed to use my words. Lost in the jumble, I refused to see how much he yearned for the same things. He was reliving aspects of his own childhood from the trauma born out of his father’s reaction to fight. Hm…When I look beyond my perspective and consider someone else’s more deeply, I see how united we are in our fight against the fear and hurt; its the anger that pushes us in unpredictable directions. What if the fight took on new meaning, then? Is there such thing as a fight to unite?
Fly away Home
If I were to assess my historical acute stress response, I would say I’m more prone to pack up and get the hell out in moments that test my physical or mental well-being. Don’t judge me! For example, after the Last Fling had wrapped, I bolted up to the beautiful expanses that Michigan had to offer, reuniting with a network of support and difference of opinion I needed. From my perspective, I was in the right; the space allowed me to clear my mind, realign my heart, and explore making memories with those who might appreciate it more. Uh oh…Those words are riddled with lingering anger; it doesn’t seem like that time away really did the trick after all. In order to reach safety (emotionally), where do I need to go?
Credit: Fort Minor
I return to memories of the past but to no moment in particular; instead, I’m involved in a series of fights with my father, screaming and carrying on about nothing. Meanwhile, my mother was battling to unite us despite our growing enmity and bitterness. Her words couldn’t stop us, nor could her hands. She had no other option; she had to take flight. I barely remember the first time she walked out the door, screaming about how she’d had enough and couldn’t take it anymore. My dad and I were too enthralled in our own anger to even register she was gone until she was. Panic set in, naturally, but the acute stress response within us was malfunctioning. More fighting would only lead to more isolation, and now without the common thread that held us together, our livelihood was in peril. So, instead, my dad and I took flight ourselves to opposite sides of the house, stewing in our fear and hurt separately. When my mom came back (the first time and all subsequent times) a few hours later, we united somewhat, but much remained unresolved in the relationship and how we communicated our emotions.
Wow…did you notice how stealthily I did that? I almost got away with it, too. Flight is so infused in my makeup that it barely registers when I’m rushing by some emotional chasm, unable to focus and fully heal from the scars left behind. My mother’s flight patterns devastated me, even when I was sure she would return. But…what if she doesn’t?! A nightmarish vision would hatch in my mind of my father and I living out our repressed emotions in enraged silence till the fighting took one of us for good. I screamed and cried for my mother to come back, afraid the dark would swallow me/us up without her. Talk about a major departure from unity, tolerance, and a lasting spiritual light. When switching perspectives, I see my mother yearned for the same things as me and my father: to be seen, heard, and understood. In parallel with my father’s fighting lineage, my mother’s father was a pilot who flew away in the most literal ways, yet it was his emotional flight that did the most damage. My family was stuck; tongue-tied in the worst ways, unable to say the words that would meet our deeper yearnings and appease each other’s. It is inherent to them, just like it is to me. Does that mean we will never overcome the call to fight or flight?
Come back, Kid
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Hell, my family struggles to teach the new dog the same tricks without getting into a heated argument sometimes. Why won’t she listen?! UGH! I feel like I have no choice but to fight or flight when my acute stress response is triggered by the projected collision course with some inner emotional wall, whether that be mine or my parents. If/when I make impact but don’t break through, I grow angry with myself for not having avoided the course altogether, for not saving myself from the heartache of silence. Move toward the light!!!
You guessed it. The journey Southwest plays back in my head, specifically when I felt starved for connection. Reminder: I spoke to about 10 people over 45 days. In the midst of a lonely moment early on, I decided that, upon my return, I would co-host a party with my parents where we would have 8 teams of 2 compete in 6 different games throughout the house. I began fleshing out the details: the game instructions, invite list, even a timetable. The hypothetical game night was turning into a hit; however, there was an issue: I couldn’t have a team play the same game more than once, nor could they compete against the same team twice. So, I set out to configure each rotation, but it didn’t go as smoothly as planned. I poured over the pages of my journal for hours figuring out how to set up the logic problem, coming up with a mismatch again and again and again. Anger built up on occasion, but my fight/flight responses were being neutralized in the wild because I was forcing myself to reach deeper than before into the emotions behind the anger. It wasn’t until dipping into Marble Canyon that everything came to light. Sure enough, the game night fiasco was solved then, too. I uncovered that when I tolerated the moment more, without fighting against or running from my emotions, I felt the most united I had ever felt.
What gives, then? I never received my invite to this fabulous game night!?
Learning, like healing, can be a long, arduous process, particularly when you lack conviction in your emotions. I quickly fell backwards after returning to the site of my fight/flight indoctrination, resting solely on my acute stress response to get me by and avoiding the depth and complexity of what I felt. This lead to more compartmentalization as I funneled individuals and groups together by shared viewpoints/experiences, improving my ability to fight and/or flight if I didn’t align with someone’s perspective. So, no game night :( I desperately wanted to be seen, heard, and understood, but I struggled being authentic with emotions. I feared being open would destroy the sanctity of the relationship(s); conversely, I hurt from the veil of silence falling across the dimensions of my life.
This negative spin cycle is going to be a bigger challenge than any before because it would mean I accept being seen, heard, and understood for all I am and all I am not and extending this non-judgmental notion to others. I’d have to find unity with my wild emotions, traumas, flaws, mistakes, wrongs, weaknesses, secrets, lies, ego, death…all of it, and see that it brings me closer to those around me rather than isolates me. I’m terrified that you won’t ever understand me for WHO I understand myself to be, and I’m upset that this type of relationship (one that is grounded in authenticity) is beyond my reach as a result. By joining forces with the emotions behind the anger, I find a lost child afraid that he’s the reason for any lack of unity, hurt that his heart hasn’t found its home. We are getting somewhere…
But where to go now? I’ve reached the fun part in my writing, again, where I have to make some declarative statement, but all these experiences seem so disparate and dark. Is there any way to unite all this mess? Well…over the past few weeks, along with my experiences at the Last Fling, I learned some important lessons in regards to my deeper yearnings, how I communicate them, and what this means to my relationships and the dimensions in which I live. Do they weave together anything of consequence? Let’s see…
Dig deeper in moments of doubt: Thanks to my friends at the Healing Arts Metaphysical Center, I stepped (well, laid) into a grave as part of an Earth Medicine workshop; I felt the weight of the soil press down on my body as I was buried below the dirt for 30 minutes. It was a heavy burden at first, but when I accepted the fear and hurt stored away in the recesses of my mind, the experience lifted me higher than ever before. I learned that every experience is an opportunity to transform from a previous way of being or thinking into an evolved way of living if I’m able to fully engage with my emotions.
Question the cult classics: As the fear and hurt rose to the surface, I needed to address the anger and sadness that manifested in its wake. But how? I’ve tried following the paths set by others, aligning my emotions to get my acute stress response under control. This lead me to the More Life training put on by the Wright Foundation, where I realized that if I continued listening to others about how I should feel, I will lose my voice and identity entirely. If I step aside from blocking my progress in connecting authentically with others, from the fear and hurt that are blinding me, I will see how our emotions unite us despite our differences of perspective/opinion; moreover, I grow support and understanding in ways I didn’t believe were possible.
Don’t forget the carryout bag: Emotions are hard to bring “home”; they’re nearly impossible to unite with when considering the alternate response options. Still, when I remember that those who enter any dimension of my universe are battling through the same yearnings and faulty core beliefs as me, I feel a new sense of purpose. Rather than compare myself to others’ lives based on my limited perspective, I can grow by seeing their viewpoint, by hearing their stories. Perhaps, at some level, I will come to understand them. Similarly, they can grow by seeing and hearing me, and maybe—just maybe—they will understand me.
Of course, to apply these lessons would take a lot of effort, determination, and focus through some very uncomfortable moments. If I continue to rise up each day, ready to learn, question the emotional patterns that trigger my fight/flight response, and make awkward moments less awkward by sharing my yearnings openly, I might just have this unity thing in the bag. After all, when I align with the path being set by my heart and express it outwardly, I’m able to connect and make meaningful contact with those who touch down in my life. I become a better friend, a better family member, a better me. I’m less concerned with being right and wrong; rather, I’m focused on listening and seeing those I love. Our trust grows, as does our understanding of one another, our combined happiness, and the unity that holds us close. Are you with me?
Credit: Rachel Platten