I'm not sure I want to admit this, but...
I’m more like Donald Trump than I ever imagined. The similarities stare back at me, mocking me in the bathroom mirror.
They seem to be waiting for me to acknowledge them, and even worse, it’s as though they want me to receive them … as a gift.
I don’t want to reside in the same country as Donald, let alone resemble him! But here we are. I’ll go ahead and go first.
Hey Don, is it possible we could be friends?
I want so badly to delete that awkward statement. But I won’t. I’m going to leave it right there. Let it sink into my psyche a little more. Because apparently, I’m not getting it—Don and I harbor similar ideas, dare I say, beliefs about ourselves and the world. On some days, we look related.
And the admission is nauseating. I’d like nothing more than to separate myself as much as possible from DT and all his supporters. Draw a distinct line in the sand (us vs. them)—or maybe a wall would better get the point across- I will not listen to your rhetoric, stand with your policies, or brush off your behavior. Ever.
Beyond mere disapproval or disagreement, I think it’s better to say I have a fierce hatred for folks on the other side of the tracks. The bridge between us, if one were to exist, feels about a million miles long.
But here’s the problem: In my hatred, I’m slamming doors in the faces of about half of my fellow humans in this country. If I don’t come face to face with my animosity, I will continue to fuel the fires of division in the world, in my country, and in my home.
Rather quickly, my mind jumps to ways I can justify my outrage, calling it “wisdom” or “healthy boundaries” or “triggering.”
But I’m calling BS on myself. When I peer out from my safe bubble, I see, quite literally, a world on fire. How could I turn away?
The climate scientists1 aren’t reaching for profound or complicated solutions, either. They’re begging us to just peer out, to see our interconnectedness to the earth and each other, to plant more unruly gardens, talk to the trees, honor the sacred entanglement between every living thing.
So here’s the reality: If I choose to walk away disgusted with DT and his billionaire bros for the next four years, and give the finger to his whole gang, I’m also throwing away the opportunity to build a robust, vibrant, and flourishing planet.
Obviously, I took it to the extremes here, but maybe there is one person in your life with whom you do not see eye to eye and yet there are still a safe person for you. Just pick one person. Or perhaps it’s an element of nature or any animal. Start there.
The point is, we must practice blending and mixing the colorful paints and feeling the friction if we are going to create a masterpiece that reflects the depth and beauty of our shared humanity. The vibrant, flourishing world we long for won’t come from isolating ourselves in echo chambers.
When Rob Bell2 speaks, I’m all ears, and he’s been saying for a few years now: “The real invitation is to expansion, to look far enough inside of yourself that you find everybody else, and you look far enough inside everyone else that you find yourself. Political polarization is the inability to see yourself in someone else.”
Ugh. The last sentence. It gets me every time.
The polarizing path is normal—it’s our go-to, especially when provocative, divisive, attention-seeking leaders assume control or when life is just too much. Our instinct is to disperse, sprint to our side of the field, huddle together with our team, and launch attacks so we can come out on top and celebrate our win.
To see myself in someone like Don & Co. feels like I’m giving up the fight. And I guess I am. I’m laying down my weapons because nobody is victorious when civil war breaks out or when our only Shared Home burns.
Instead of battling against the righteous and powerful parts of myself—the parts that thrive on building walls, throwing insults, sowing division, staying blind, spilling my selfish agenda—I’m standing beside them or at least trying to inch a tad bit closer.
We can not erase our differences, as Felicia Murrell wisely says, the goal isn’t homogenization, “Look at the fish, look at the birds, …there’s just too much in the cosmos that is so diverse that the invitation can’t be that we all just melt into this one thing and lose the distinctions of who we are.”
It’s excruciatingly hard work to stay curious and catch a glimpse of yourself in the other. But it’s also transformative. Because when I begin to recognize Don—his fears, his insecurities, his grasping for more attention and more countries—within myself, I also create space to transform what’s not working. I stop fueling the fires of division and start tending to the embers of connection.
Tim Shriver3 puts it plainly: “We are living in a culture that normalizes treating other people with contempt when you disagree with them. […] We create this vicious cycle of incentives to be more and more contemptuous.”
But what if we normalized something else? What if we rewarded those who dared to listen, to see, to walk across the million-mile long bridge?
We all know more shouting and finger-pointing will never bring any amount of change to the world. We need small moments in front of the mirror, whispered truths like, “Hey Don, ol’ pal, I see you there.”
And it needs us to dare, when we’re ready and in whatever capacity, to look across the chasm of our differences and say, “I see myself in you.”
Because that’s where healing begins. That’s where the fire dies down, and something wild and green and sacred has a chance to grow.
Joanna Macy, Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, and Katherine Hayhoe are some of the best. (Each is linked to a podcast I loved!)
The RobCast | Official WHAT WE DO Talk 2025 | January 23 2025 | 42 min
The One You Feed | The Power of Dignity and Building an Inclusive World with Tim Shriver | January 24 2025 | 1 hr 4 min