Dancing in Love’s Disconnect

Love is the heart of seeing humanity in others. But loving someone involves a disconnect. There is a gap you have to cross.

Dance in it.

***

Crackling music of the underground rail
First fills me with annoyance and disgust
Why can you not let the silence prevail
Why should the rest of us have to adjust
Beating bass of the underground subway
Second fills me with self-righteous disdain
Why do you seek to annoy on this day
Take your sound and leave alone this domain
Humming song of the underground express
Third fills me with humble admonition
Who am I to see the man as being less
In shame I surrender pride’s position
So I give up the high and moral ground
And feel the rhythm and sway with the sound

I love silence. I love the peace of being able to think and feel my heart within. Finding silence is not easy on the train.

Travelling downtown there is a man who is listening loudly to music. As I grumble under my breath how insolent he is to do such a thing, the challenge that I so often give comes back to me.

Is he worth any less because his music bothers me? Does it somehow strip his humanity away from him? Am I allowed to think him as beneath me?

Humbled, I reframe my attention and no more think ill of him. And after making that choice, the noise doesn’t bother me as much. I enter the frame of mind where love is.

Swaying, may you dance in the disconnect of love. Separate the action from the person. You don’t have to love what they are doing, but their humanity still demands respect.

Clapping, may you choose to focus on the good. You have the choise to either pay attention to the truth of the person or the annoyance of what they do. Attention is a limited resource. Give it to love.

Tapping, may you take the effort to see the other. Understand them for who they are. Then you will be in a place to deal with the actions.

***

Whistling song of a fine afternoon breeze
Along grassy fields does its story tell
Stiring the branches in the highest trees
Raising the sea to a most lovely swell
Whistling note of the lifeguard’s sharp warning
The red flag means you aren’t allowed to swim
I stare at the lake with a sad look of mourning
What power do I have to challenge him
Whistling sigh of the lost chance to go play
Why does the gaurd have to ruin all the fun
But it is not his fault that we can’t swim today
Doing his best to see harm to no one
Robbed of the object of my angry glance
I wander home and join in with the dance

The water is at times a second home for me. I splash in the waves and embrace their impact.

One afternoon, the waves on Lake Michigan are bigger than normal. I go home and grab my swimsuit, eager for the chance to play in the waves. But returning to the beach, I see the red flag. No swimming today.

Amid the disappointment, I feel a flash of anger toward the lifeguards. How dare they ruin all the fun. Why are they so mean?

But as I continue my thought, I shift my attention to their intent. I can only assume that they mean the best. They feel, or their supervisors feel, that it is too dangerous to swim. I still disagree with their decision, but by assuming positive intent, I disarm my anger.

Stepping, may you dance in the disconnect of love. Separate your perception from the event. Assume that they did not mean to cause you harm or insult. They only wanted what was best for you and themselves.

Moving, may you give the benefit of the doubt. Often, the annoyance comes from misundertanding the other person. You hear words in a way that may be different from what they mean. Ask them. Listen.

Swinging, may you take the effort to hear the other. Don’t take what they do personally. See that harm is not their intent. And then you can deal with what really happened.

***

Dancing to the beating of the soft drum
The bongo sounds familiar and known
Memory of the place from where I come
Memory of the place that I call home
Dancing to the beating of the quick rap
The song’s unnatural and somewhat strange
Memory of a wide and unfilled gap
Memory of an unexpected change
Dancing to the beating of a country song
The song has words to which I can’t relate
Memory of a place I don’t belong
Memory of a place unlike my state
Dancing and dancing no matter the tune
Dancing in the morning and afternoon

For a summer, I work with a crew painting dorms and classrooms around Wheaton College. The painting goes well enough, but the people I work with are completely foreign to me. I can’t relate to them.

They may be Americans, like I am, but I’m not a part of their culture. They speak English, like I do, but they might as well be speaking in a different language. They may share a few beliefs with me, but much of their worldview appears to oppose mine.

I find it hard to love them at times, but it gets easier when I stop focusing on our differences. In the moments that I seek common ground, I catch a glimpse into who they are. I begin to understand where they come from and why they do what they do. And that lets me love them.

Spinning, may you dance in the disconnect of love. Separate your differences from your view of the other. Look past those differences.

Twirling, may you love when it is unnatural. Love when the other person is different than you. Love when the other person disagrees with your view point. Seek out what is in common. Weave the threads tighter.

Flying, may you make the effort to know the other. See them for who they are. See the truth that lies within you both. And then you can deal with the differences.

***

Some of the steps are challenging and awkward. They don’t always come natually. But you dance anyways. For the sake of love you keep moving.

And as you dance, love floods in and fills the gap. You become whole.

Will you dance with me?

###

Water dancing on the shore. I made this photo in Chicago, Illinois.