“I know what you mean.”

How often have you heard these words? How often have you said them?  After tonight, I promise to do my best (yes, I was a Girl Scout!) to never take these words for granted again.

Let me explain. After a lively day packed with meaningful work, I found myself in a bland hotel room with a little too much energy for sleep, so, yes, I’ll admit it, I entertained myself with some channel surfing. When I happened upon TLC, the preview for a rerun of Two in a Million captured my imagination. Not sure if you know the show; I’d never heard of it. Basically, the creators bring together two people with rare medical conditions so they can share their struggles, hopes and dreams with someone who “gets it” in a genuine way. Here’s a little background:

http://www.cnn.com/2016/04/06/health/rare-medical-conditions-two-in-a-million-tlc/

The creators hope their work will help end bullying based on visible differences. That’s great, but what I took away from the episode* I sat glued to for an hour was the absolute power of peer support. Two kids with the debilitating facial deformities of Goldenhar Syndrome who’ve endured pain, isolation and taunting – not to mention myriad medical/surgical interventions, functional difficulties with tasks of daily living, and unapologetic disgust from heartless people around them – are brought together. Their relief at finding another person who has “walked in their shoes” is matched only by their delight. They are kids after all. Kids who giggle and make jokes and laugh. In Elena, however, Austin finds more than just a friend; he also finds the strength and courage to consider yet another painful jawbone expansion surgery.

Austin and Elena’s mothers are equally impacted by the weeklong visit. Clips of the women’s conversations reveal the depths of loneliness, frustration and even anger that result from feeling alone. By sharing their experiences, struggles and fears they derive solace from each other. Like their kids, they feel braver, too. That’s the power of peer support. It cradles us in the comfort of another and spurs us to face challenges. Peer support brings out the best in our humanity and reduces our isolation. Peer support can make harsh words vaporize and stigma vanish. Oh, and, by the way… peer support doesn’t usually cost as much as therapy, pharmaceuticals or in-patient treatment for a host of anti-social human conditions, and it certainly costs a whole lot less than prisons.

You see, as humans, I believe we crave each other in a way that is beyond language. In isolation we become hollow and vicious; in community we become who we’re meant to be. This is what I will be talking about long after the specifics of the episode fade.   

*check out the episode on TLC.com or various clips on YouTube

“I was talking to my friend Joe on the phone one night (also a poet) and he told me that he was invited to give a poetry reading at a university by another poet and that poet introduced Joe to the audience as an ‘impoverished poet.’ It got me thinking…”
Sandra Simonds – Poet (*)

Our friend, Art Woodard a mentor in our world of facilitation often uses the title of this blog post when describing the endless conundrum of being humble as we pass through our daily interactions. The implied imperative is to be mindful in and of our assumptions and judgments.

Modernity has given us the epitome of bittersweet, the opportunities to live lives and pursue dreams once unimaginable for the masses. This luxury comes at a price, however, in the form of a dizzying pace and ceaseless confluence of demands. As we weave our path amidst it all we are charged with a constant winnowing of choices – how we do that and this, what stays, what goes, what gets attention and what gets ignored. In this melee, as our attention and response is required, we do the best we can.

The fault lines become clear when we are quick with our assumptions and judgments. They can be hurtful to those close to us – both family and those passing by in a moment. The example given in the quote rang true for me. Trying to be funny or erudite, "I" just say whatever comes next. Wrapped in temerity it sounds good and we all get a chuckle…

…next…

…except for the one to whom I refer... or to those hearing my words that know what I don’t. So if I hear Art (who looms large in our world) and I actually hear him – I’m challenged to reflect on what I’m doing and how it moves into the world. When I do that, life slows down. I see more. I hear more. I wonder more. I question more. I listen more. I serve more.

In a world where the opportunities and urgency to “get more, do more, be more” seemingly never end – the simple reminder to remind myself that I don’t know, what I don’t know has given me more than all the world has to offer.

(*) From her comments about her poem “For Joe”, provided by Poets. Org and found at the following link https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem-day?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Poem-a-Day%2520%2520October%25203%25202016&utm_content=Poem-a-Day%2520%2520October%25203%25202016%20CID_1287876f2dd694a74b28a83fb0c1a347&utm_source=Email%2520marketing%2520software