My sister did her Master’s degree in Haifa, where she fell in love with an Israeli man. Their courtship was conducted in running shoes—first jogging on the beaches of the Mediterranean and later in airports running to catch Trans-Atlantic flights.

Now she and her family live in Israel. Summers are when we gather here in the States to catch up, hang out and try to find meals that everyone—the gluten intolerant, the meat loving, the vegetarians and the vegans—will eat.

One afternoon my sixteen-year-old nephew and I were chatting on the deck. I’ve lost the entirety of the conversation but this bit stood out starkly against the blue-gray backdrop of the bay:

Jewish Holidays are all the same. They go like this:

They hate us.
They tried to kill us.
We survived.
Let’s eat…

…It gets boring after a while.

My nephew was jocular as he made this pronouncement but a sliver of horror edged toward my heart.

And then images from Charlottesville: chanting zealots bring “they hate us” from past tense to present.

Oppression gets into your DNA. How many bloodlines carry this double helix of fear and anger?

Whether your people were the oppressed or the oppressors, when hate overruns a country, no one escapes. Click To Tweet

Years ago I did a semester abroad in Rome. My closest friends were a group of German students also studying in Italy. Generations after World War II, my German friends still felt deep shame for the Holocaust…and me? I didn’t mention my German friends to my Jewish family because I wasn’t sure it was okay to have German friends.

Hate and oppression become a Pandora’s box that future generations have to unpack.

How do we transmute our feelings of helplessness into healing? Rose petal elixir and hawthorn tea aren’t going to do the trick.

Hate and anger seem monolithic and unapproachable.

Shifting our focus from the macro to the micro, from the greater vision to actionable steps, lets us move from idealism into empathic action.

I grew a business at the juncture of healing and nature because I wanted to save the world. Yet every action I took as a person, or we took as a business, felt inconsequential, one grain of sand in the vast Saharan desert.

When we started to work with a branding person on the business, we were asked to think about our raison d’être a little differently than we had in the past. We defined our top-tier vision for the world, our ideal (this is all the Wonder Woman stuff, like keeping plants and animals and even humans from going extinct). This top-tier vision is our greatest prayer, our utopian vision, our driving force.

Next thing we had to think about was supporting that ideal vision. What actions could we promise to take (a promise we will always fulfill) toward making the ideal a reality. And so we made a brand promise to nurture the people who nurture the planet.

And something amazing happened: clearly defining the vision as separate from the action that supports it helped me understand how I could actually make a difference in the world.

While I don’t know how to keep the plants on the list of endangered species from becoming extinct, I do know how to nurture people. I’m pretty good at it. It’s doable and at the end of the day I can assess how well I did at nurturing.

So I’ve been applying this thinking to the frisson of hate rippling through our world. What’s my ideal? A world where people cherish diversity and can disagree without violence.

What’s the promise I can make toward this vision? The action steps I will take over and over again?

I came up with two (and maybe these will inspire you to find yours):

1. I will use my voice…

…because each of us who raises our voice or our pen gives someone else the courage to say “this is not okay.” I can use my voice to plant seeds of courage so someone can say to their father or neighbor or childhood friend “Let’s talk about this hate that’s happening in our country.” It’s these small conversations which can actually be heard and create change: I know my blog is preaching to the choir; my goal is to make sure the choir knows they are not alone.

2. I will blow up the myth of homogenization.

Hate wants to think in terms of stereotypes. Jews, Lesbians, Blacks…

But we’re all unique beings, no two the same. We are singular and a part of this larger thing called humanity.

Always keep 2 pieces of paper in your pockets. One says, “I am a speck of dust;” the other, “The world was created for me.” (Rabbi Bunim)

It’s time for each of us to shine his or her own unique light. We’re not stereotypes, we’re individuals with unique gifts to share.

But we have to do more than simply step into the power of being our true selves—we’ve gotta take that shiny self out in the world and be kind. Look people in the eye. Listen to them. Extend your empathy in all directions.

It’s easy to hate a stereotype, it’s harder to hate a person who’s standing in front of you offering a smile or a kind word or a cookie.

Small action steps toward a larger vision.

Need more inspiration? Listen to the mother of Heather Heyer, the woman who was killed in Charlottesville, talk about what we all can do to honor Heather’s death.

Tell me, what’s your vision for the world? And what’s your promise to the world and yourself?

Big Hugs—