Open
A few years ago, I was speaking at a conference for people who had experienced the loss of a child. At one point during the conference, I was looking out into the room and saw something that surprised me — and I've thought about it ever since:
I saw 1,000 people who were pitied by the world in which they live. 1,000 people who no one would ever wish to trade places with. 1,000 people who many might view as "damaged goods"...
But that's not what I saw.
I saw 1,000 people who were open. Yes, open in a way which came about from something I would never wish on another person. But open nonetheless.
This open quality felt like the exact thing so many in our world are looking for.
The openness itself didn't feel like weakness. Or wounded-ness. It felt like wealth. Deep riches. It felt like access, to a treasure — a treasure that exists in each of us, but seems impossible to find, with no map to find it. And these people, through tragedy, had painfully stumbled upon it.
Was it a coincidence that their tragedy would also lead them to this treasure? Was it cruel that a tragedy, so horrible to endure, would lead to a treasure which only seemed to make the pain hurt more?
In that moment, it felt to me like everyone in the room had won the lottery. But after losing a child, who gives a damn about the lottery?
As I looked at these people, I longed for them to see what I saw. But I knew it probably wouldn't matter very much to any of them. They didn't want to find a treasure within themselves. They wanted their child back. So did I.
But the thought lingered, and still lingers today, that even though these people have been to hell, they had also — at least partially — come back. They were still here. And now, for better or for worse, they were open.
The picture was of a well which had been filled with dirt, now blown open with dynamite. Indescribable pain. But here we were, in a room with a thousand people who were open and had access to water that the rest of the world was dying to find.
This picture has lingered, along with a question: is tragedy necessary for this kind of openness to exist? Or is there a way that is not require tragedy for the rest of us to find water? To be open?
And that leads me to this morning.
I was sitting on the chair I sit on each morning, checking in with myself, and feeling significant fear and frustration around a certain topic that came up this week. Not tragedy. But in my system, in my body, it actually did feel like tragedy.
And the thought came, "what if I was to just let go right now? What if I was to allow myself to be open while feeling what I'm feeling?"
As soon as the thought came, I felt my body open just a little bit. And when it did, I felt a rush of energy flow through my whole body. And the image of the well, and that room full of people from years ago, rushed to my mind.
And as I sat there — in my living room, in my comfortable chair, processing my relatively small, but still triggering issue — I felt the same openness that I had observed years before in that room of 1,000 open people. And I realized, life is constantly offering us invitations to open.
And I have made a habit of viewing these invitations as the biggest problems in my life. I have arranged my life around getting rid of every one of them. They trigger me. I don't like that feeling. When they come up, I close myself. I brace against them. I do what I have to do to get rid of that feeling.
What if we are in the habit of fighting against life's constant, patient, loving invitation — to find a treasure?
The people in that room, who lost a child, are my heroes. You may be one of these people. And you may not even know it, just as they may not have known it. And you may not even want it, just as they may not have even wanted it. But the fact remains, you have it. You are it.
You are the treasure. It's you. You are beautifully and wonderfully made. Not the "you" who can make things happen in life and stop things from happening in life, but the "you" that is deeper than anything that could ever happen — even the worst of tragedies.
This treasure is in all of us. And life is inviting us to find it. Constantly. It doesn't take tragedy. But it does take an enormous amount of courage and trust. To let go when fear and uncertainty would have us close.
There will be a point today where life offers you an invitation. When something comes up that feels like tragedy in your system, regardless of what that thing is, large or small. See if you can view it as an invitation. A gift. See if instead of closing, you can let go, and open. Notice what happens when you do.