Break the Walls of Division

This past weekend, I had the profound honor of hosting a talking circle – a sanctuary for raw honesty amidst the clamor of our current world. The invitation was simple: come as you are, share your burdens, and be truly heard. My intention was to gather a community of people, irrespective of the lines that so often cleave us – political stripes, ideological camps, faith or lack thereof. The goal? To ignite that inner fire, The Revolution Within, understanding that true connection blossoms from our own acknowledged pain.

But the circle revealed a truth that has been simmering in my thoughts ever since. Those who gathered, courageous in their vulnerability, largely mirrored my own ideological leanings. A spectrum of left-leaning hearts, all echoing a similar ache for the state of our world. This sparked a necessary inner rebellion within me. Am I truly challenging my own perspectives if my circle reflects my own ideologies? The revolution demands we step outside our comfort zones, bravely seeking out the dissonance to truly understand the  human experience.

And then came the sharing. Voices, raw with emotion, spoke of the pain inflicted by current events. Yet, woven through the narratives was a familiar thread: a profound sense of "othering." "How can they not see it?" "What is wrong with them?" This refrain, this immediate categorization into "us" and "them," hung heavy in the air. A deep frustration that those on the "other side" couldn't grasp what felt so undeniably, fundamentally wrong. These questions echoed the internal struggles I've faced while navigating differing viewpoints with my own loved ones in these shifting times.

Now, let me be clear: this isn't a space to debate the rightness or wrongness of any policy or event. My own convictions run deep. But the persistent echo of "right" versus "wrong" in our community living has me questioning the very foundation of this approach. Isn't this ingrained need to categorize, to judge, the very fuel of the divisiveness that corrodes our collective well-being?

The insidious impact of "us vs. them."

When we willingly participate in the narrative of division, we risk a chilling repetition of history. We build walls of isolation around ourselves, brick by painful brick. We surrender our own critical thinking, blindly subscribing to pre-packaged opinions, told what to think and how to think. The true rebellion lies in reclaiming our own minds, in daring to formulate our own understanding of the world.

Our humanity begins within. It demands we take the time to define our own values and to understand the deep roots of our convictions. Only then can we engage in difficult conversations from a place of authentic self-awareness, grounded in our own humanity. Without this crucial step, we remain adrift, feeling the gnawing loneliness of an unexpressed self, defaulting to the comforting, yet ultimately isolating, narratives fed to us by carefully curated media streams. We become unwitting participants in a program, often unaware that we haven't even consulted the most vital voice – our own.

The subtle programming of division.

This "othering," this inherent divisiveness, isn't some grand conspiracy; it's woven into the fabric of our daily interactions. Think about gossip – those seemingly harmless exchanges where we dissect the choices of others. "Can you believe what Sally wore?" "Did you hear who John is dating?" In those moments, we subtly draw a line, creating an "us" who wouldn't make such a "questionable" decision, further isolating Sally or John. It's a micro-moment of separation, a quiet reinforcement of "we are better than that."

Consider our own biases – the quick judgments we make based on someone's appearance, their profession, their zip code. A fleeting thought, a raised eyebrow – these tiny, almost unconscious reactions train our minds to categorize, to divide. These micro-moments are the insidious training ground for the macro-level divisions we see erupting in our social feeds. The vitriol, the outright dismissal of entire groups – "If you support them, I can't stand you!" – is the fully bloomed, toxic fruit of these countless small acts of othering.

The rebel act: Reclaiming our humanity through curiosity.

So, what is the rebellious act in this landscape of ingrained division? It's the courageous choice to resist the urge to immediately categorize and condemn. When a policy change ignites your anger, when a political stance feels like a personal affront, pause. Instead of reacting, ask yourself: What is it about this situation that triggers me so deeply?

Dig deeper. Does this trigger align with a deeply held value, something resonating with every fiber of your being? Or is it echoing a program, a lifelong exposure to specific narratives and media that have shaped your thinking? This honest self-inquiry is the first act of rebellion against the conditioning of division.

You might discover your values genuinely align with the outrage you feel. But even then, understanding the why behind your conviction empowers you to engage in dialogue, not just condemnation. It allows you to approach someone with an opposing view not as an enemy, but as another human being with a different set of experiences and perspectives.

Think about the silly example of pajamas at the grocery store. My initial "rebellion" against that societal norm – the sheer comfort of prioritizing my own needs – helped me understand why I didn't subscribe to that particular rule. That clarity then allowed me to communicate my perspective with my family, not from a place of judgment ("You're wrong for caring!"), but from a place of personal value ("This is what self-care looks like for me").

The true rebel act is to resist the knee-jerk reaction to "other." When you see a viewpoint that clashes with your own, resist the urge to immediately label it as wrong. Instead, cultivate curiosity. Ask yourself: What do I think about what I'm seeing? Are there other perspectives I haven't considered? What is it about this that makes someone else support it? Can I seek to understand, even if I don't agree?

This isn't about compromising your values. It's about arming yourself with understanding, not just righteous anger. It's about building bridges of dialogue instead of erecting walls of judgment. The revolution we need isn't fought with shouting matches and dismissive labels; it's waged within the quiet corners of our own minds, where we choose curiosity over condemnation, connection over division.

The point isn't to achieve universal agreement – that's a utopian fantasy. The rebellion lies in enhancing our autonomy, enriching our understanding, and granting ourselves and others the space to express our unique truths. Accomplishing this means we build strong communities, not just in our homes, but at work, in our volunteer spaces, amongst our family and friends and beyond.

Have you ever found yourself wondering how someone could support something you deem clearly wrong? I know I have, countless times, especially lately. But perhaps the real rebellion isn't in doubling down on our "rightness," but in the courageous act of rediscovering our shared humanity, one difficult question, one moment of genuine curiosity, at a time.

Let The Revolution Within begin.

Namaste, Sweet Soul!

Araceli Wehr