The Way Things Are Not

The other day, I spent time with someone who offered opinions with such conviction about religion, relationships—even entertainment—and I was reminded that maybe, just maybe, we can be just a little less rigid, a little more tolerant. Something similar happened during a phone call yesterday with someone I’ve never even met in person. Awhile back, I had yet another conversation with someone who insisted that he was not willing to forgive his sister for things she’s done. This guy had spent a couple of decades as a minister then several years as a social worker. I couldn’t even count the number of times I’ve held forth with “the way things are”, begging the person with whom I’m having a conversation to say, “Harold, why don’t you tell us how you really feel”. Good for a laugh, right?

Over the last couple of weeks, I have witnessed from a distance, hardcore divisiveness among members of my extended maternal family. Some have drawn a line in the sand, choosing to hate with a passion that stuns and stings. Hate. There’s a word we use in different ways. Some hate broccoli. Some hate getting up for work, even when they like their jobs. Some hate making a mistake. Some hate sweating when they’re all dressed up with someplace to go. Some hate others of a different ethnicity. Some hate others they think have hated them first. Some hate their own family or individual members of their family. We hate much, and we hate without cause, regardless of how justified we feel.

Don’t you hate it when you think you’ve got it all figured out? And then, when life proves to you that you couldn’t be much farther from the truth? I do my share of explaining the positions I take and the choices I make—much of it built on the shifting sands that I regrettably discover later—sometimes just a little bit later. Life will have its way, and if we are paying attention, be it to something we read, or a conversation we have, or a situation we observe, or a situation we find ourselves in the middle of, life will instruct us. My mother told me many times, concerning the temper that I inherited from both her and my daddy, “do not let the sun go down on your anger” (Ephesians 4:26). As it turns out, this really is from the “good book”, unlike so many other sayings that people commonly attribute incorrectly to scripture. It works for more, as long as I allow myself to get over myself. Ego is a mighty opponent. And so it is. Namaste.

The Way Things Are Not—Albuquerque, New Mexico (August 4, 2011)

R. Harold Hollis