Belonging
WHEN THE INSIDES DON’T MATCH THE OUTSIDES
Yesterday I sat in a Community Sing, surrounded by a roomful of people practicing for our annual Songs of Peace, Hope & Light Concert. It’s a lovely group of people who are drawn together by Roberta Kirn and her mission to “inspire as many people as (she) can to sing in community, wherever and whenever possible!”. I have been singing with Roberta for almost 20 years and as I looked around the room, I saw many faces that I know and love and others who are new to this welcoming community. Despite this joyous exchange, I was distracted.
At some point, mid-song, my eyes focused on a poster that was in front of me—an announcement about another event that I have loved being a part of. The brilliant colors of the stained glass window depicted on the poster reminded me of the joy I felt being invited to share my voice with this group. And then, the sadness that I felt at not being included this year. When I had thought that the event was not happening, I had been grateful for the extra time and space in my busy December schedule, but now, I was simply feeling left out, forgotten, and unimportant.
As I continued to add my voice to the harmonies surrounding me, my head and heart were spinning elsewhere, running another tape of a rejection inspired by an email I had received earlier in the day. Having applied for a grant back in October, I was eagerly anticipating the response. But not the one I received. Somehow, receiving the official “no” left me feeling personally rejected, as if by receiving this form letter, my mission and my work were no longer valid or worthy.
The intimate, soul-searching work that I support happens with individuals and small groups. I have often asked myself if what I do matters, if I am making enough of a difference in the world. And when I sit quietly and listen, the answer is clear: If I touch just one person in a meaningful way, I have done enough. You see, I believe in the ripple effect. One person, now feeling inspired and motivated, goes on to touch a myriad of people in their lifetime, who also inspire and motivate myriads of others, and so on and so forth. But, in moments of self-doubt and faced with others’ critiques, it’s hard not to equate a lack of funding for my work to its lack of meaning.
This morning, after a snow-laden walk, I am able to pull back the lens and take it all in from a larger perspective. I decide that failure is good for me. It stirs up a lot of questions and inspires new answers. And, honestly, it’s the first grant I’ve ever applied for. . . Then, I begin to look from a more global perspective. Thinking of all of the privileges I possess to even be able to pursue a grant: my education, my involvement in the community, access to a computer, time to devote to writing it, the food & water & shelter that I enjoy so that I am able to engage in creative activities and even dream up projects. I experience my own feelings of rejection and then begin to consider those who are deemed “other” by our racist, classist, ageist, sexist, binary society and I realize that many people living on this earth feel rejection not just on special occasions, but as a way of life. Those feelings of rejection wound deeply because what most of us want more than anything is to feel like we belong.
Belonging is bubbling for me this morning as I walk through the halls of my children’s school. I feel like I am on the outside looking in. Everyone is ensconced in their daily tasks of molding the future leaders of our planet. My disjointed feelings are no fault of the school, which is a very welcoming community. In fact, as a parent, part-time visiting teacher, and PTO leader; I am very much a part of the community. I am always greeted with genuine enthusiasm. . .
But, somehow, this morning, I feel separate. Despite the warm exchanges I share with faculty and staff; my steps falter on my way out the door, my eye contact lingers a fraction of a second too long. It is as if I am wanting something, but am unsure of how to phrase the question. As I make my way back to the car, I realize that despite all of my volunteer involvement in this beloved community; I am feeling isolated and alone. . .
I wonder how many of you feel the same way in your life? If you are an entrepreneur or a stay at home parent or you work from home or you simply work in an isolating environment; feelings of loneliness and isolation are common, especially, I think, this time of year. As holidays approach and we celebrate love and joy, giving gifts and shining lights; our inner landscape can be in stark contrast to our outer expressions. We attempt to silence the grief, quiet the tempest. We numb out or shop or eat or sit alone and wonder why we are so sad when others look so vibrant and happy. Do you ever feel this way?
How do we allow these feelings, learn from them, and then move beyond to connect instead of feeding the lonely hole with food or technology or consumerism? Today, I am taking my first steps by allowing, recognizing, and sharing my feelings. I am painting and writing. I am admitting that although my smile was brilliant this morning, my heart felt heavy and thunder laden. I know that I need to truly connect in order to feel a sense of belonging. My next step is to make a phone call, talk to an actual human being, make plans to go for a walk, have tea. I need to make space for my emotions to bubble up and express themselves—laughter, tears, anger, frustration, calm, challenge—all of it. I will allow for the free exchange of support—the giving and the receiving—that provides me a sense of balance in this wacky world of ours. I know that if I am feeling this way, there are many others who are also experiencing loneliness and rejection that would benefit from receiving a phone call just as much as I will benefit from making one.