In the spirit of St. Valentine’s Day, I’ve decided to keep writing about love for a few more days. I don’t generally fall victim to overly-commercialized holidays that are little more than excuses to consume, but this is LOVE we’re talking about. I like love.
To start, I’m thinking about the compound adjective I used to describe the Michiganders who voted in favor of that proposal in 2004 to limit others’ civil rights. Should I have called them hate-filled? I sat on it for a long time yesterday trying to find a different way to say it, but every other word I tried didn’t have the same impact. Or the feeling that I was feeling.
But what if I’m wrong? What if their motivation comes not from a place of malevolence, but a sincere belief that what they’re doing is right? It’s easy to project our anger and frustration on those we don’t agree with—and assign them to a category of lesser individuals whose opinions have no merit because they don’t align with ours. It’s really easy for me.
But, I forgot: I am supposed to be opening my heart this year. And then there's that other mention I made about how pointless bickering never leads to more understanding and more positive outcomes. Right.
So, instead of flinging hurtful words that alienate the people who I hope will take a second look at their beliefs and behaviors and start to respond from a place of love instead of rigid dogma, I need to bring that love myself. Right? Right.
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