David's Desk is my opportunity to share thoughts and tools for the spiritual journey. These letters are my personal insights and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments or thoughts of any other person in Lorian or of Lorian as a whole. If you wish to share this letter with others, please feel free to do so; however, the material is ©2019 by David Spangler. If you no longer wish to receive these letters, please let us know at info@Lorian.org.
There is a moment that is seared into my memory for all time. Julie and I had just come home from the hospital with our new baby son, our firstborn. As we stood in the hallway, I put down the various pieces of luggage I’d been carrying, and Julie handed John-Michael to me to hold for the first time in our house. Looking down at him, I felt such a powerful surge of love and protectiveness. I’d been writing and teaching about love for a long time, but in the moment, I felt like I was discovering anew what love was. I felt that I would do everything in my power to enable this new life, this new person, to thrive, to be safe, and to become all that he could be in the world.
I know this is not a unique experience. Love for our children and the desire for them to unfold their potentials and to succeed in life are universal. In that moment, I felt plugged into the community of parents everywhere who share these feelings and who strive in every way to make the world a place of safety and empowerment for their offspring.
In that moment, I also plugged into the pain that arises when parents are unable to succeed in this endeavor. When I see a mother and father grieving because something terrible has happened to their child, I feel my own heart break. I know the excruciating pain I would feel should something happen to any of my four children.
I know, too, the fear that can come over me when they venture off into the unknown. My youngest daughter, for instance, is planning to take up vanlife, going on a pilgrimage to explore and discover in deeper ways both her own inner nature and the world in which she lives. I know she can do it, and I support her on her journey. Vanlife is a growing social movement in this country, and there are tons of resources and a thriving (and highly mobile) community of “vanlifers” that she can draw on for support. Still my father’s heart trembles thinking of her living in a van and traveling about the country by herself.
But I do not fear when my children do ordinary things, like going to a grocery store, driving to work, or simply going for a walk in their neighborhood. I never learned growing up that such things can be dangerous. Why would I? I am a white man in a predominantly white culture. I have never had to walk down the street afraid that someone might deem me suspicious and call the police, leading to an encounter that, as so many recent events have shown, could suddenly turn lethal.
A black friend of mine described to me how her son had been pulled over by the police while out driving. When he politely asked why he had been stopped, the police officer hauled him out of the car, handcuffed him, and arrested him for “resisting arrest.” Fortunately for him, his parents were well-to-do and respected members of the community who could afford a lawyer to immediately investigate. This revealed that the boy had done nothing wrong, and the officer hadn’t really had a cause to pull him over in his car, much less arrest him. The boy was released, and the case was dropped. I do not know what consequences, if any, befell the police officer.
This story, unlike so many, had a happy resolution. But talking with my friend, I could still hear the pain in her voice describing it. A tragedy had been averted, but it should never have happened in the first place. It was obvious that her son had been stopped because of his skin color, something that would not have happened to my son or to any of my daughters. These kinds of events, and the attitudes, assumptions, and beliefs behind them, are why our society is erupting right now, demanding change.
When I tune in to the inner landscape of the United States and its “subtle” environment, I am presented with a diverse set of perceptions. Though it may not seem like it watching the news, there is a great deal of good energy active in this country. To draw on former President Bush’s statement, there are more, many more, than a “thousand points of Light” working to bring healing and wholeness into being. But at the same time, there is an undercurrent of pain and trauma that is pervasive. It is not just located in the black community. Whites share it, Native Americans share it, Asian and Latino Americans share it, we all share it. It is a reservoir of soul-damage that afflicts us in so many ways. Some of it is very ancient and can be traced back to our human experiences in other lands, other cultures, and other, now dead, civilizations—a karma of human violence and suffering—and some of it is specific to North America and the histories of colonization and nation-building here in the United States and in Canada.
It is soul-damage that replicates itself unless we are willing to put our “fierce attention” upon it, as I wrote in my last David’s Desk, to see it, recognize it, confront it, and heal it. As long as this pain is there, this trauma is there, none of us are truly safe. And let me be clear: by “safe,” I don’t mean simply being protected from harm—though that is certainly important. I definitely don’t mean cowering behind walls, whether physical, mental, or emotional in nature. I mean feeling confident in one’s right and ability to grow and expand. I mean feeling able to explore one’s potentials. I mean feeling relaxed and willing to expose oneself to the world, for creativity and growth demand vulnerability. I mean feeling a foundation of support that let’s you take the kind of chances that success often requires. I mean not being afraid of making mistakes from which you can learn.
I mean being able to breathe.
I do not see us succeeding as a nation, fulfilling the promise of the American ideals of freedom and equality, much less keeping us safe, until this trauma is dealt with and healed. It is a challenge for all of us, and we work it out in how we draw love and compassion, listening and caring into our lives in dealing with each other.
There are many ways of reaching into and healing this collective trauma, but at this historical moment, the Black Lives Matter movement is a powerful lens for doing so. It brings the trauma to the surface in specific, addressable ways. Yes, I know all the arguments for saying “All Lives Matter,” and in a universal way, this is true. But if I’m a therapist and you come to me with your specific problem and needs, it’s not helpful for me to respond to you saying, “Well, everyone has problems and needs.” This may be true, but it doesn’t help you and it doesn’t help me focus my energy to meet the challenge you have brought me. I can’t heal what I won’t recognize in its specificity. I can’t help “everyone,” but perhaps I can help you, and in helping you, I contribute to helping everyone.
“All life” is not specific. A black person is. A black mother or father grieving the loss of a child is. A black child crying for the loss of a father, or a wife for her husband, is. Black society in America is. My friend’s son is not an abstract universal principle. He is a person for whom I would wish all the blessings and benefits that I would wish for my son. And as a father, I feel pain thinking of having to have “the Talk” with my children, especially my son, the way so many black parents have to do to ensure their offspring will be safe—or at least safer—in a currently dominant white culture.
When I see the Black Lives Matter protestors on the street, people of all colors walking together in solidarity and vision and hope, what I remember is that first moment when I held my son and felt so much love for this new being, and prayed that I could keep him whole, keep him safe. It’s that prayer, that demand, I feel rising from our struggling streets. Keep black people safe. Keep our children safe. Keep our world safe.
Keep us all safe and able to thrive.
In this, we are each other’s keepers.