A native Californian, two years ago, I moved across the country to the Cape Canaveral area of Florida. The first shock to my transplanted system came from the climate. During certain times of the year in Florida, it feels as if the air is too thick with heat and humidity to take a full breath, and the nights offer no relief from the oppressive weather like they do in California. After I acclimated a bit, I began to notice other subtle differences between my old and new homes. These differences appeared small at first, but as they combined and amplified I began to feel like I was sluggishly trying to wade through deep water (with the added weight and drag of wearing denim).
It wasn’t until I spoke with someone who was having the opposite experience that I was able to put my finger on it. We were standing in my kitchen and discussing my upcoming visit to California, where she had lived and worked for years before returning to her family in Florida. She explained how living there never quite fit her, no matter how much she labored to connect with her community. When I pressed her for details, she used an expression that was both new and resonant to me. She said that in both work and social settings, the people around her demonstrated an “arrogance of assumption,” that she believed exactly as they did and therefore would not be offended or excluded by what they were discussing. What she felt in California is what I feel here in Florida. We marveled at how each of us could completely understand the other’s perspective, even though our viewpoints on so many things differed.
In Becoming, former First Lady Michelle Obama writes about race, “It’s hard to put into words what sometimes you pick up in the ether, the quiet, cruel nuances of not belonging—the subtle cues that tell you to not risk anything, to find your people and just stay put.” My friend and I experienced a similar feeling – not related to race, but somewhere on that same spectrum of not belonging.
It can be exhausting to live in a situation that constantly reminds you of how you don’t quite fit, but it is also how we learn and grow. Because it is necessary for me to educate and explain my position to people here much more often than it was in California, I am refining my message, my voice, my way of being in the world.
Yesterday, I returned from a long trip and was walking through the Orlando airport when I saw a man wearing a T-shirt that read “F**k Your Sensitivities;” only the first word was spelled out and it included a drawing of a hand flipping the bird. I had a strong reaction to this message, but, instead of lashing out and proving the point so provocatively made across this man’s chest, I paused and wondered. Where did this idea that someone’s sensitivities should be ignored or even mocked originate from? I drummed up all the empathy I could spare after the long flight and really looked at this man. He appeared to be in his forties, below average height, wore his hair and beard a little long and unkempt, and looked like he was limping when he walked. Did he use this message as armor for his own sensitivities? Did he hold the opinion that the world is an uncomfortable place and no one deserves any extra support because he was denied it? Whatever his story, his message of intolerance was clear and it reminded me of my message: pause, try to understand, and meet whatever arises with love.
There are subtle energies all around us that can act on us all the time. Mostly, these energies balance each other out and we do not notice them, but, occasionally, they combine and amplify each other and suddenly we are faced with the unmistakable measure of a person or place. Whether these combined forces drag us down or lift us up, there is something to learn about ourselves, and, in some cases, these teachers in the ethers help us refine who we want to be.
