PARTICLES to WAVES

Driving back from St. Louis, I noticed a sign advertising an “exclusive” neighborhood: lakeside chalets set apart from the surrounding communities. While the photo of the area looked rustic, wooded and serene, I couldn’t get past the word, exclusive. I thought of scarcity, something closed. Then I thought of its opposite: inclusive, abundance, something open. I prefer the second lifestyle.

The OED definitions:

Exclusive: Of a right, privilege, quality, etc.: possessed or enjoyed by the individuals specified and no others; confined or restricted…. Pursued, employed, etc. to the exclusion of all else; sole, only. Of a group, esp. a social circle, or a member of one: (excessively) reluctant to admit outsiders to membership. Of an establishment, etc.: used or patronized by a restricted (esp. aristocratic) social group….

Inclusive: That includes, encloses, or contains; esp. that includes rather than excludes (also followed by of); including much or all… comprehensive.

I see in the first definition how much the exclusions must be explained. More is required to state what exclusive omits than what inclusive embraces. The word exclusive is often used to describe something favorable, desired, a thing hunted and coveted. But I can’t shake the notion that to generate this desire, someone or something must be left out. That doesn’t sound fancy to me; it just sounds rude. I know some people disagree with me. To some, a new house or handbag or houndstooth-upholstered sports car shines better if it’s available only to a few. I don’t get it. And that’s okay.

Since the exhausting Presidential campaign, election, and free-speech-limitations imposed by the new administration, I’ve also been considering the general definitions of the words conservative and liberal. I’m not talking about political definitions or job descriptions of each party. I’m not pitting one against the other. I’m simply considering what the words mean, how we use them in natural conversation. This contemplation helps me better grasp why we argue. It comes down, again, to perspective.

More from the OED:

Conservative: Characterized by a tendency to preserve or keep intact and unchanged; preservative (of)…. Characterized by caution, moderation, or reluctance to make changes; (of views, taste, etc.) ….

Liberal: Directed to a general broadening of the mind…. Free in giving; generous, open-handed. Given or offered unstintingly, ample, lavish…. Unprejudiced, open-minded; esp. free from bigotry or unreasonable prejudice in favor of traditional opinions or established institutions, open to the reception of new ideas…. Favorable to or respectful of individual rights and freedoms….

Here, when the focus of the explanation is to the extent something is ‒ or isn’t ‒ being offered or allowed to change, the definitions reflect the words’ meanings. The definition of conservative is significantly shorter than the definition of liberal. More is required to explain all that can be offered in a liberal sense than to discuss what is withheld in a conservative sense. This is not to say one is right and one is wrong, but it’s helpful to comprehend just how different the two mindsets are in processing and proceeding. It’s no wonder there’s so much tension.

As I mentioned last month in my post, Eye on Eye, I’ve been having a tough time dealing with the arguments originating from ‒ or irritated by ‒ recent events. I’ve been trying to find peaceful, philosophical, psychological ways of understanding our differences and of communicating better. I’m not sure how much progress I’ve yet made, but I take some comfort in how hard I’ve tried. When looking to some poetry to pacify my brain, today I picked up A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry, edited by Czeslaw Milosz. I opened to a poem I’d years ago dog-eared:

MUSIC OF SPHERES

-Jean Follain

He was walking a frozen road

in his pocket iron keys were jingling

and with his pointed shoe absent-mindedly

he kicked the cylinder

of an old can

which for a few seconds rolled its cold emptiness

wobbled for a while and stopped

under a sky studded with stars.

-Translated from the French by Czeslaw Milosz and Robert Hass

I appreciate the sudden liberation from a confined presence to a vast one. The keys in the beginning are heavy but small, held inside a pocket, and imply the person owns something and that he’s away from whatever that is. They begin to hint at a greater story. And the can, empty from use, represents the immediate, grounded experience that then bursts open a much larger scene: the earth’s small place in the cosmos. When that happens, the can, at first clunky in its prominence, becomes wonderfully microscopic. The cold, lone world is suddenly sparked warm with extraterrestrial light. It all comes together.

Making connections is something I must do. Everything fits, makes better sense, in relation to something else. I know that’s not the only way to think. After all, it’s tiring, confusing, and heartbreaking. But it’s also illuminating and it creates new roads. The word exclusive halts me because it ends roads. I prefer inclusive living.

The other day, I read a passage by Thich Nhat Hanh that applies here: “When the energy of anger serves ego, it is aggression. When it serves to ease others’ suffering and make the world a better place, it is wisdom.” The first type of anger is exclusive; the second is inclusive. So, I wish right now that we could grow outward as the poem grows. I wish we could look beyond ourselves more, collect and connect instead of divide and restrict. I wish we could be similarly aware, humble, reflective ‒ kicking a can, thinking of the can and of everything but the can. I wish for a humanity with perspective, each life certain of others’ lives like stars: out there, right there, even if one doesn’t always know or see them. I hope for a comprehensive world, one that includes and gives, that encourages new ideas. I hope for a world that doesn’t close, that opens.