GOING LIVE IN A FEW HOURS! rsvp! and a bonus for patrons..."broken open", new preface by elizabeth lesser (Patreon)

{patron-only}

HALLO LOVES

sorry i am making you read so many long long things this week. 

and what a week. everyone i know is emotionally drained and verging on paralytic because of the news cycle. there has to be a way out. 

well.

we are trying. this is part of it.

most quickly and importantly, i'm about to test out these new wheels and do our first PATRON-ONLY PODCAST FOLLOW-UP HOUR, with the amazing elizabeth lesser. it should be super-intimate, there's just over 100 people RSVP'd right now. if you're able to be online at 7 pm EST (nyc time) COME JOIN US!!!! here's the link:

again, it's october 1st, at 7pm EDT, which is in about 4 hours: (check out what time it is in your local timezone here)

here's the link to RSVP. you will need to log into patreon:

https://www.crowdcast.io/e/AOAES1E1 

this is gonna be FUN. please start asking questions in the Q&A box!!!!

i cannot wait to talk to her about everything, especially her new book, "cassandra speaks", which i've been slowly devouring, and which we are gonna read/discuss in the book club.

SPEAKING OF READING....we are trying to find little juicy presents - downloads, books, music, art - to make the patreon worth being a part of throughout the podcast.

this weeks delight, with permission from elizabeth's publishers, is a free copy of the new preface to elizabeth's last book - "broken open".

it's below!

.....

first, thought....

if you missed the podcast episode itself, it's HERE:

The Art of Asking Everything, Season 1, Episode 1: Elizabeth Lesser: Bullshit is Everywhere:
https://www.patreon.com/posts/37561956

about the book and the new preface:

Re-released in 2020, and updated for these challenging times, this book features a new introduction and tools to support readers through life’s difficulties. 

During times of transition, amid everyday stress, and even when we face seemingly insurmountable adversity, life offers us a choice: to turn away from change or to embrace it; to shut down or to be broken open and transformed.

In the New York Times bestseller Broken Open, a beautifully crafted blend of moving stories, humorous insights, practical guidance, and personal memoir, Elizabeth Lesser offers tools to help us make the choice we all face in times of challenge: Will we be broken down and defeated, or broken open and transformed?

PREFACE

When I wrote Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow, I was at the tail end of a difficult time in my own life. Divorce and single motherhood, remarriage and a blended family, the death of my father and upheavals at work—all of this had happened in the space of a few years. It was as if a bomb had gone off in every room of my life: home, work, finances, my whole identity. But I was determined to use the pain of loss and the trauma of change to grow. I made it my goal—my path—not to break down, but instead to break open: to be changed for the better by the stuff of real life. 

Writing the book was a backwards sort of map-making for me, a retracing of the journey through the demise of my marriage and the breakup of our young family. I wrote Broken Open to make meaning out of the mess. I wrote it to better understand how the most difficult chapter of my life had turned out to be the most vital and valuable one as well. And I wrote it to tell the stories of other people whose journeys through difficult times were far more traumatic than mine, yet who still had come to trust something mysterious, almost magical: that even as things fall apart, we can become whole. That what we fear most can be a pathway into the life we were meant to live. 

That was almost twenty years ago. Broken Open became a bestseller. It has now been translated into more than twenty languages—from Chinese to Romanian to Turkish. Over the years I have received letters from around the world, from readers going through all sorts of ordeals and transitions, as well as the normal befuddlement of being human. These good people have shown me how similar we all are—it doesn’t matter where we come from, how old we are, what we do for a living. Readers have thanked me for the parts of the book that speak most to them—to their longing to live a fuller life, or their fear of making big changes, or their resistance to changes that come whether we want them to or not. Some readers have related to the stories in the book about navigating relationships, raising kids, losing a loved one, aging. They have appreciated having catch-words to wrap around their own experiences: the Phoenix Process, the Open Secret, Fierce Grace, the Shaman Lover. 

But there is one phrase and one very short story—two pages to be exact—that readers mention most: “Bozos on the Bus.” The response to that story never ceases to amaze me; it has generated thousands of letters and emails and comments. It lays out the simple truth about one of our most common human experiences—how you and I and everyone we know waste time and squander joy by hiding what’s in our hearts from each other, especially our wounds and fears, our confusion and insecurities. The message of “Bozos on the Bus” is this: We are all here for this brief and beautiful life, sharing space on a little planet where all kinds of sh*t happens—the good, the bad, the wonderful, the tragic, the stuff that makes us grateful, the stuff that makes us anxious. Instead of defending against the rules of this road, or putting on a proud or happy face to mask our vulnerability, “Bozos on the Bus” is an invitation to be radically open to all the textures of the journey. We can be kind and forgiving to ourselves and to each other as we roll along the potholed road. That’s the best way to enjoy this life, to live it fully, and to share it well with others.

Once, after speaking at a conference in Amsterdam, I was approached by a Japanese man who spoke little English. I speak no Japanese. After a few attempts at communicating, the man took my hand, and said one of the few English words he knew: “Bozos.” He had tears in his eyes, which brought tears to mine. I squeezed his hand, and then we both laughed. Bozos was code; it was a shared language of only one word. He was telling me that he too was a bozo on the bus, and that he had figured out the bozo secret. He could stop blaming others and shaming himself. Instead, he could take his seat on the bus—an ordinary, flawed, and precious human being among other ordinary, flawed and precious human beings. He was saying yes to his humanness. Yes to his imperfect personality, his worse-for-wear body, his quirky family. The man kept pointing to himself, and then to me, and then to the crowd in the conference room, saying, “Bozos, bozos.” 

Translation: We are all in this together. Everyone is unique, blessed, worthy. And everyone suffers, everyone worries, everyone judges and compares and makes all sorts of blunders and mistakes. No one’s life is really what it looks like on Instagram. That’s a sentence I could not have written when I first published Broken Open, because there was no Instagram then, and Facebook was just some guys in a dorm room. Social media has only amplified the anxiety we feel about who we are, what we do, where we live, with whom we live. It’s created a monster of illusion, of perfectly curated lives, and of FOMO—the Fear Of Missing Out. (If you don’t know that acronym, you are one of the lucky few who has avoided the trap of holding a little machine in your hand and comparing your life to photoshopped images and inauthentic storytelling.) 

Enormous energy is freed up when we put down the burden of envying or resenting or trying to live up to what we think is going on in the lives of others—their relationships, their weight, their jobs, their money, their families, their travels to exotic places. Magic happens when we get on with being our genuine selves, doing our best, helping this hurting world, and enjoying the ride with the other bozos. That’s what the Japanese man was saying; that’s the truth that so many other readers have shared with me. 

I still meet people wherever I go who want to share their stories of being broken open, of finding the treasure of their true self in the ashes of a difficult time. The book remains current, since difficult times don’t seem to go out of style, and we don’t have just one of them in a lifetime. We don’t learn our lessons in one tidy sweep and then step out into the world, an enlightened saint. That’d be nice, but I haven’t experienced that myself, nor have I witnessed it in others. A reader recently alerted me to another acronym she thought I might appreciate: AFGO, which stands for Another F-ing Growth Opportunity. Yes, that sums it up well. Life continues to provide opportunities for inner growth, whether we want them or not. We get the chance, over and over, to turn and face our difficulties—illness, loss, aging, fear, pain, whatever comes our way—and to ask them, “What have you come to teach me? How can I use this situation to become wiser, braver, kinder, stronger? What can I learn about myself and my choices and reactions? How do I find the light shining through the cracks?” 

Since writing Broken Open, I have had to live by my own words. Many AFGOs have come my way and I have tried to stay open, to embrace the broken times, to be the bozo bumbling along the road, and to trust that the journey will shed light on exactly what I need to learn and how I might grow, how I might give more, love better, live more authentically. I leaned on that faith during my mother’s difficult illness and death. I called on it when my little sister’s cancer returned, when I donated my bone marrow for her transplant, when I cared for her the best I knew how, when she died. I dug in the ashes of those fires for wisdom, and fearlessness, and peace. And I did this during big changes at work, too, and through the complexities and wonders of being the parent of three adult children, then the grandparent of their children. 

All of these very human experiences have tested me, and all of them have taught me. But what I didn’t expect was the experience I am going through now, that we all are going through now as a culture, and a country, and a human family. These times in which we are living—these distracted, divided, divisive times—bring to mind how I came to call this book Broken Open in the first place. While writing, I knew the subtitle would be “How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow,” for that is what the book is about. But the title—that’s always harder for me. How do you come up with a word or two to capture the essence of something you’ve spent several years and lots of thinking and hundreds of pages creating? I often turn to songs and poetry when I’m looking for essence. That’s the job of the poet: extracting the perfume from the rose. One day, while reading the words of the Persian poet Rumi, I came across this line: “Dance, when you're broken open.” Bam! That was it. That was the perfume; that was the title.

But when I met with my publisher’s marketing team and told them that the title of the book was going to be Broken Open, they looked at me like I had said a four-letter word. There was general agreement around the table that the title would scare off readers, that it sounded like a depressing journey for broken people. “How about Finding Happiness?” one of the well-meaning marketers suggested. “Or The Light at the End of the Tunnel?” 

I wanted to tell them that happiness and light are indeed the rewards of the journey, but that the journey itself is rarely rainbows and unicorns. I wanted to ask them about difficult times in their own lives. Had they ever lost a job? Gone through a long illness? Had they let someone down, suffered betrayal, or had their heart broken? Had someone they loved died? What did they do? Did they learn from the pain, did they grow? Or did they stuff bury their feelings, become blameful or bitter, or fill the discomfort with too much work, too much drink or drugs or food? How did that work for them, and what did they want to do the next time their life took a difficult turn? That’s what I wanted to say, but I also knew that forcing these kinds of conversations rarely works, especially in a marketing meeting, in a New York City office building.

Instead, I said something like, “You can find happiness. There will be light. The light will come in through the cracks. But first, the cracks.” That was met with paper shuffling, averted eyes, and more arguments for an upbeat title. But I held my ground, and I am glad I did. Especially now, especially for these times. I hear the word “broken” often these days. People say the medical system is broken, democracy is broken, the whole society is broken. I hear the word used about the earth’s climate and natural systems. About technology, politics, immigration, guns, drugs, schools, families, towns—epidemics of suicide, addiction, and despair rocking so many people’s lives. Even facts are fractured by a divided press, making respectful public discourse and our ability to learn from each other next to impossible. 

And I hear a lot of blame bandied about for the brokenness. Sometimes this blame is deserved; sometimes righteous anger toward those who perpetrate injustice and preach division is the most appropriate response. I understand that. And I also understand the weariness and hopelessness and fear that so many of us are experiencing in these swiftly changing and highly disruptive times. 

But there is something else we need to add to the conversation; there is something else we can do, even as we feel the fear and express the anger. We can stop, take some deep breaths together, and ask ourselves the same questions I mentioned above, questions that are as relevant for a society as they are for an individual. Imagine if the talking heads on cable news didn’t only spout their opinions, and the internet bigmouths didn’t only bark their blame. Imagine if we all stopped the finger-pointing and posed these questions: “How did we get here? What have these difficult times come to teach us—about history, about the present moment, about the future? How can we use them as opportunities to grow, to change, to take responsibility, each and every one of us, so that we stop repeating the mistakes of the past? What can we learn about ourselves as a people, as a nation, as a species? Can we find the light shining through the broken places of the world? Can we become the light, can we reclaim our human dignity and forge a new path?” 

My own journeys through difficulty have helped me lay claim to an inner self—what some call the soul—that is stronger than any loss, any change, any wound, or slight, or grief. That When hard times have brought me to my knees, I have found the ground of my being. And therefore, when trouble comes knocking now, I answer the call with less fear and more faith—faith that I will be shown once again my purpose and my potential. I believe what is happening in our country, and in the world, offers the same kind of reckoning, the same opportunity to be brought to our knees and to reclaim our collective soul. This will only happen if we face the brokenness with courage, and ask the big questions: What is the soul of our country, of the human family? What do we really value? What do we stand for? And how does each one of us walk that talk, on our own and together?

Just asking those questions is more than half the journey. Next time you find yourself engaged in a conversation about social or political issues—and especially if it strays into doom-and-gloom ranting or bashing of the other side—you can say something like, “I wonder what these times are trying to tell us? About me, about you, about all of us? I think they’re asking us to listen more deeply to each other and to stop the hurtful language, the ugly accusations, the choosing of sides.” (Warning: This kind of communicating may not make you the most popular guest at the party, since it’s easier to complain or to blame others than it is to consider what it would take to make real, lasting change, starting with ourselves.) 

I did this the other day when I found myself talking to a woman I had assumed shared my opinions about a controversial issue in the small town where I live. The conversation went from friendly banter to angry words quickly. Within minutes I felt almost sick at how fast things had deteriorated between two otherwise caring human beings. So, I put my hand on her arm. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Let’s start again. Talk to me. I won’t interrupt. Tell me what’s going on in your life that makes you feel the way do. I already know what I know; I want to know what you know.” I listened and she talked. I discovered things about her I had never known, concerns and losses that had influenced her point of view. And then she listened, and I talked. Neither of us changed our mind about the issue, but there’s more respect between us now, less assumptions, less narrow-mindedness. My heart is open to her, because she too is a bozo on the bus, struggling with the same human issues I am, and the only way forward for all of us is to make room, to sit next to each other, to travel together even as we disagree. 

I still have abiding hope for our times. I have it because I am a student of history and I know that human communities have struggled through other “phoenix processes”: famines, disasters, droughts, floods, and plagues; the fires of war, genocide, slavery, despots, and dictators. Like the mythical phoenix bird, we have risen from the ashes many times before.  Eras of destruction have been followed by those of recovery and peace, creativity and great leaps of ingenuity. 

I was born in the 1950s, an era that came out of the global brokenness of World War II. To many, the 50s were a time of healing and rebuilding and stability. But to others, they were a time of racism, sexism, and stifling conformity. The 50s gave birth to the 60s which, on the one hand, brought freedom, justice, and liberating creativity, and on the other hand went too far, too fast (as we humans often do.) It has always been thus— cultures swinging back and forth between brokenness and breakthrough. Humanity winding its way through growth spurts and amnesia, destruction and advancement, but always moving, always changing, and, from my point of view, always being offered a choice: to languish or to rise, to perish or to mature into a more magnificent expression of life.

Some people break during difficult times, and some people break open and lead us into better days. We love to idolize those people—the ones who leave breadcrumbs of hope and illumination for us to follow on the path through the dark woods. But we can be those people. These times, our times, are asking that of us. So much is changing, so fast, so dramatically—from weather patterns to gender roles, from population overload to communication overwhelm, from the ways we work to the ways we live. No wonder the angst level is high; no wonder there’s a clamoring for change as well as nostalgia for the good-old-days (which were not so good for a whole lot of people). If we use the changes in our personal lives as laboratories for waking up, for growing up, for evolving, we can stand as evidence and inspire others to pull out of their despair and fear, to trade scapegoating and side-taking for inclusion and communication. If we can open our hearts to ourselves, with all of our shortcomings and all of our beauty, we will be more likely to open our hearts to others, to welcome the stranger, and to abide peacefully with each other on our one and only home planet. 

Can we do this? I am eternally optimistic that we can. I have seen people change; I have changed myself. I know it is possible. It takes work to change—it takes intention and practice and patience—but the work works. Even neuroscience is confirming this. Brain scientists once believed that by early adulthood the physical structure of the human brain was fixed. But newer research has revealed that our brains never stop changing—that from childhood on, new neural pathways are formed when we learn new information, change old patterns, or confront physical and emotional trauma. This is called neuroplasticity, and it confirms for me that we are equipped to respond creatively and constructively to stressful and difficult times—that it is possible for all of us, as a species, to create new pathways in our collective brain.

As you read this book, I hope you will find inspiration to navigate your own difficult times, as well as ways to approach the transition we find ourselves in as a society. Ways to calm the mind and open the heart; to become stronger, happier, wiser. I hope the stories of people who have been fortified by all sorts of challenges will encourage you not to turn your back on our hurting world, but instead to help make a new one.

Near the end of this book, I wrote the following. It still applies, to our personal lives, and move than ever, to our shared lives: 

The promise of being broken and the possibility of being opened are written into the contract of human life. Certainly, this tumultuous journey on the waves can be tiresome. When the sea is rough, and when we are suffering, we may want to give up hope and give in to despair. But brave pilgrims have gone before us. They tell us to venture forth with faith and vision. Rumi speaks for them all when he says: 

Drum sounds rise on the air,

and with them, my heart.

A voice inside the beat says,

I know you are tired,

but come. 

This is the way. 

Note: As companion pieces to this updated preface, I have added two new sections to the Toolbox at the back of the book. In the section called “Using the Phoenix Process in Times of Conflict and Social Change,” you will find some meditative practices and suggestions for dealing with fear, staying strong and hopeful, and communicating across differences. And “Six-Step Synopsis” offers an easy way to remember the key points in the book. (SEE BELOW)

SIX-STEP SYNOPSIS OF BROKEN OPEN

All of these steps are as applicable to your personal life and your primary relationships, as they are to your roles at work, in your community, and as a citizen of your town and country. 

1) SAY YES. Difficult times visit all of us. Big ones like heartbreak, divorce, illness, loss of a job, death of a loved one, can throw us off course. So can everyday transitions and changes, even the good ones, even the predictable ones: graduating from school, falling in love, getting married, having kids, moving, aging. Say yes to it all; don’t shut down; listen for the messages about inner growth and outer change. This is the path to a soulful, vibrant, and purposeful life. 

2) WE ARE ALL BOZOS ON THE BUS. Mistakes and mishaps, confusion and vulnerability are part of the standard human operating system. Put down the wasted energy of blame and the heavy burden of shame. Break the curse of comparing yourself to others. Take your authentic seat on the bus with your fellow humble humans. That’s where the love is; that’s where you will find support, acceptance, forgiveness, and happiness. 

3) CHOOSE THE PHOENIX PROCESS. The fires of difficult times and everyday transitions can wake you up and show you what needs to change within yourself and in your life. This is the Phoenix Process. It takes courage to look honestly at your life, and to choose growth over stagnation, change over cynicism, optimism over bitterness. You always have the choice to be the phoenix, to enter the flames, to burn what wants to burn, and to rise into the fullness of who you were meant to be. 

4) TAKE RESPONSIBILITY/HOLD OTHERS ACCOUNTABLE When you stop shutting down to life—when you stay open even when things are difficult—life will show you what you need to know: about yourself, about others, about the choices you made in the past, and about the path you should follow now. If you care to listen, you will get instructions about taking responsibility when it’s yours to take, but also about being courageous enough to hold others accountable; about standing up for yourself, and also about surrendering, forgiving, letting go, moving on. 

5) RELAX INTO UNCERTAINTY. In times of change and transition, we try to allay our fears by grasping for control. But the more we try to control the uncontrollable, the more tightly wound we become. We swim hard against the current, when what really helps is to relax with the changes, to let go, and to float in the direction that the river is flowing.

6) DO YOUR OWN WORK FOR THE BENEFIT OF ALL. The world will be saved by the humble and the brave. The times we are living in today need as much compassion, love, and courage as we can muster. You will find yours on your own journey if you stay awake, and like the phoenix bird, are transformed by the fires of your own difficult times.

USING THE PHOENIX PROCESS IN TIMES OF CONFLICT AND SOCIAL CHANGE

The issues facing societies around the world are stressful and can feel overwhelming, frustrating, and frightening. They may make us want to lash out, or to turn away, to protect and isolate ourselves, or to give in to cynicism and apathy. We can feel all of these, simultaneously. Add to that the overstimulation and pace of daily life, and the barrage of information coming from our cell phones and gadgets, it’s hard to know how to find our ground. How can we work with our own reactivity and fear? How can we find our inner strength and be a source of strength for others? The following practices may help.

FANNING THE FLAME OF FEARLESSNESS
This is a meditation practice for when you feel afraid—freaked out about the pace and stress of your own life, afraid of the political climate in the country and state of the world, afraid for your kids, and for the future of planet, its animals, trees, oceans, and atmosphere. Pick your own fear! There’s a lot of it around. But fear is not our friend. It helps no one—not you, your health, or the people and issues you care about. Courage, vision, humor, faith, fearlessness—these are qualities worth cultivating. Here is a practice to fan the flame of fearlessness in your heart.

1. Give yourself five to ten minutes when you can be alone.

2. Close the door (or go out into nature), sit in a chair or on the ground, close your eyes, and come into silence.

3. Put your hand on the center of your chest—your heart center—and feel the warmth of your hand touching your heart. Breathe into that space and let whatever feelings are in your heart emerge and come to the surface. Respectfully nod to whatever arises—fear, anxiety, dullness, sadness, joy, wonder, gratitude—as if you are greeting visitors. 

4. Imagine your heart as a big, spacious cave, so big that all the visitor, all the feelings have plenty of room to coexist. 

5. In the center of the cave, envision a tiny, glowing ember. A little flame. Even if it is the tiniest light, see if you can find it. Inhale slowly, and gently exhale, and blow on that ember with your exhalation. Make a quiet blowing sound with your breath, and imagine the ember glowing and getting stronger and brighter. Perhaps it changes from a cool blue color to a golden flame.

6. As you blow on the ember, feel the power of your breath spreading light through your whole being—body, mind, heart—filling you with optimism and courage. Do this with several breaths until you can actually feel a sense of warmth and expansiveness in your chest. Let that warmth touch whatever fear, negativity, anxiety, etc., that may be troubling your heart. 

7. You can use this exercise when you are going about your day at work and home. Just one inhalation can wake you up to what you are feeling, and one whoosh of an exhale can remind you of your natural inner warmth and strength. This quality of fearlessness is always available, always waiting. It will strengthen your capacity to make it through difficult times. It will enhance whatever it is you do to help our hurting world. 

THE STRONG AND SOFT MEDITATION

Our times call for us to be both strong and soft, boundaried and open. If we’re only strong—invulnerable, fiercely protective of our self and those within our tribe of belonging—we can end up contributing to more division, more conflict. If we are only sympathetic and soft, we run the risk of being overrun by the opinions of others, oversensitive to the sorrows of the world, unable to take decisive action. The following meditation practice helps me strengthen myself so that I can open my heart. I use it to prepare for all sorts of divisive situations—at home, work, wherever. I call it “The Strong and Soft Meditation” because each of us needs to develop both—fortitude and vulnerability—to balance them, and to use them in tandem.

1. Give yourself five or ten minutes for this meditation. Turn off your phone, or better yet, don’t have it near you. Go into a room or outside where you won’t be disturbed or distracted. Sit in a straight-backed chair or cross-legged on the floor. If it is uncomfortable to hold your back straight without support, use the back of your chair or lean up against the wall or a tree. 

2. Close your eyes and feel your breath slowing a little, deepening. Fill your lungs and your belly. Just sit still for a few minutes.

3. Now, focus on your posture. Elongate your back by imagining a string attached to the top of your head pulling you up until you have a strong, straight backbone. When you don’t slump your mind is more alert. Your strong back gives you a feeling of protection and nobility. 

4. Pay attention to your shoulders. Are they tight? Have moved up to your ears? Let them drop as you exhale. Let your jaw relax too. Keep your back straight and strong (pull up on that string in the center of your head), even as you drop your shoulders and relax any tension in your jaw, your eyes, your face. 

5. Keeping your back straight and your shoulders soft, turn your attention to your belly. Exhale and release any tension and holding. You can even whisper to yourself, “Soft belly. Soft belly.” 

6. With a straight back to protect you, and a soft belly to calm you, you can now turn your attention to your heart. Take your hand, and let it rest gently on the center of your chest—the seat of your sensitivity, your compassion, your tenderness. Breath in and out from your heart. You can sigh a few times—breath in and exhale with an audible sigh—to release any strong emotions or tension. Remember to keep your back straight as you allow your heart to soften, to feel a whole ranges of emotions, to experience the heartbeat of humanity.

When you sit this way in silence, with your back straight and noble, your shoulders relaxed, your belly soft, and your heart wide open, you are saying a prayer for yourself, for our world, for all its people, for the earth itself. You are telling yourself that you are that you even as you stay open to the reality of others. If you spend some time giving equal voice to these two qualities—strength and openness—you can actually train yourself for all sorts of interactions in the world. You can use a shorthand version of the meditation when you are at work confronting a difficult person or as you prepare for a meeting. You can use do this if you’re the parent of a toddler or a teenager. You can do a quick strengthening of your back, put your hand on your heart, inhale and exhale, and tell yourself to be both strong and open. I sometimes have to pause the evening news on television, straighten my back, put my hand on my heart, and remind myself that strong and open people are the answer to what ails our culture. 

TAKE THE OTHER TO LUNCH

Differences of opinions will be with us forever. Diversity of ideas is part of life, as normal and enriching as the diversity of race or religion or gender or age, therefore we have to learn how to be tolerant of each other and our varied ways of thinking, voting, and believing. Tolerance is not about turning a blind eye to blatant bigotry or violence; rather, it’s about taking the time to really understand where another person is coming from, to dispense with assumptions and to look and listen deeper. Tolerance lives beyond the smallness of our own tastes, opinions, and values, our ego-centric arrogance, and our shrunken circles of connectivity. Each one of us has the power to interrupt the cycle of intolerance that is causing so much division and conflict in our culture today. In this vein, I began an experiment a few years back that I call “Take the Other to Lunch.” I purposefully seek out people with different points of view than my own, and invite them to lunch. Over time I have developed a set of goals, guidelines, and prompts for anyone to take their “other” to lunch. You might want to watch a TED talk I did on this subject for more insight into the process: (https://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_lesser_take_the_other_to_lunch?language=en)

TAKE THE OTHER TO LUNCH GUIDELINES

GOAL: To better understand someone with whom you disagree on a specific subject; to soften your stance toward a person with whom you are in conflict; or to get to know a person from a group (religion, race, sexual orientation, issue-based organization, etc.) you don’t understand or have negatively stereotyped.

WHO TO INVITE: Anyone you find yourself judging, rejecting, and speaking against because of beliefs that differ from yours, even if you barely know the person. Sometimes it’s easier to start with someone with whom you have no baggage, for example, NOT a family member, colleague, or next-door neighbor. You may seek out that person because of a specific issue you want to view from a different perspective, or the invitation may arise spontaneously during a conversation. For example, I decided I needed to understand the issue of abortion from the point of view of a woman whose opinion differed from mine. I wanted to know why she felt as she did—what in her life, her experience, her values informed her outlook. I got in touch with the head of a local organization. I explained who I was, how I wanted to understand the issue of abortion from her point of view, and wondered if she was interested in hearing my views and answering some of my questions. I explained that I was not interested in changing her mind or having mine changed. I just wanted to gain respect for her as a person, and to see if she might want to do the same with me. 

WHO NOT TO INVITE: Don’t choose bigots, extremists, or those espousing violence, and don’t waste your time with someone who shows no interest in being even a little open-minded. If you have to drag someone into the field with you, you probably shouldn’t.

HOW TO INVITE: Offer an honest, transparent invitation to a person you think might be willing to engage in a non-hostile, open-minded conversation. Explain that you’d like to get to know and understand the person better. Ask if they would like to do the same with you. Tell them that this is not an opportunity to argue, dominate, or prevail.  I have used lines like, “I’m tired of my own small-minded point of view;” “I want to understand the issue from all sides;” or, “I already know what I think; I want to know what you think.” Sometimes I recite the Rumi poem as an invitation: 

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.”
 

Then, invite your “other” to lunch (and if he or she likes a Big Mac as opposed to an arugula salad, choose an other-friendly restaurant.)

GROUND RULES

Before you begin your conversation, agree on the following, or make your own ground rules together.

Don’t make assumptions.

Don’t persuade, defend, or interrupt.

Don’t leap to conclusions, use blanket statements, or quote unfounded conspiracy theories.

Be curious; be conversational; be open and real.

Listen, listen, listen.

When a point of unyielding disagreement arises, say, “I hear you,” and leave it at that. 

CONVERSATION ICEBREAKERS:

These questions can act as prompts for deeper conversations:

What is going on in the world in general or around a specific issue that deeply concerns you?

What are your fears and your hopes for yourself, your children, your family, your company, your country?

Tell me something of your life experiences—your childhood, your work, your struggles, your losses, your dreams—so that I might better understand your views.

Ask me some questions you have always wanted to ask someone from the “other side.”

If the lunch goes well, you can end with this: What can each of us do in our circle of friends and family to encourage this kind of outreach, listening, and mutual respect?

MEASURING YOUR SUCCESS:

What might happen at your lunch?  Will the heavens open and “We Are the World” play over the restaurant’s sound system? No. Differences between people do not magically melt over lunch. Reaching across long-held beliefs is a slow and difficult process that takes time. A lunch is a first step. If there is general goodwill between you and your lunchmate, you may want to have several lunches and continue to build respect and to humanize each other over time. Here’s how to know if you are making progress:

It becomes less important to you to change a person’s opinion and more important to respect diversity of thought, philosophy, and beliefs.

You find yourself engaging less in knee-jerk assumptions and uninformed talk that spreads divisiveness. 

Your ability to relate, compromise, and work with all sorts of people increases. 

You become more interested in walking the path of tolerance, love, and justice in your own corner of the world than in making grand judgmental statements about large swaths of people. Walking the talk becomes a purposeful and exciting way of life.

...

for more info on Broken Open and for links to purchase, check out elizabeth's website: https://www.elizabethlesser.org/broken-open

......

I LOVE YOU.

bozo on the bus in arms,

xxx

AFP