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A soldier's young daughter (her father in the process of being transferred and moved to a distant post) sits on the floor in an airport departure lounge, among her family's meager and ragtag belongings. Sleepy, the girl leans against the packs and lays her head on a duffel bag.
A well-dressed woman walking the concourse, stops when she sees the scene, and pats the little girl on the head. "Poor child," the woman says. "You haven't got a home."
The child looks up in surprise. "But we do have a home ma'am," she answers. "We just don't have a house to put it in."
Plato reminded us that "whatever is honored will be cultivated." To put it another way, whatever we honor determines the way we "see" the world--it becomes our lens, or our paradigm.
This is a story about paradigms. The woman who stopped--even though well intentioned--had a paradigm: home equals stuff. Or, in this case, big stuff, such as a house. (And, if we are honest, we must acknowledge that this is ingrained in all of us... it is our "American" paradigm.)
In her wisdom, the little girl knew that home is not what we own, but who we are.
"It means a gradual process of coming home to where we belong and listening there to the voice, which desires our attention. Home is the place where that first love dwells and speaks gently to us." Henri Nouwen
Stories don't require lessons. And heaven forbid if we conjure one after the fact. (But it is my occupational hazard, after all, and there are two healing lessons here.)
It is true, there are many things that take us away from home. And not having a house isn't among them. I'm thinking of things such as anger, busyness, self-importance, vengeance, unforgiveness, despair, frenzied consumerism and bitterness. It is seldom sudden. But in every instance there is this reality: this new weight becomes the definition for our identity. It tells us who we are. And here's the kicker: the above list requires that we focus on the periphery issues, on whatever is needed to impress, or manipulate, or use, or perform.
Which means that we focus on what we don't have. Or even crazier, we focus on what we don't have enough of. Even when we finally get what we are certain we "needed," it turns out we needed more. Go figure. This paradigm is called Scarcity. And it is peddled in many ways. . .
More is always better.
That's just the way it is.
Sorry, whatever you need, there isn't enough.
If only you tried this. . .
So how can we move beyond current paradigm and dispel the illusion? Lynne Twist writes, "It all comes from 'we're not whole'--you're not ok the way you are, you've got accumulate and acquire more. And that is a tyranny; it's not just a misunderstanding, it's a tyranny... But it takes enormous courage because the whole system is promoting something else, and promoting it from a base of fear. Advertising and marketing give each one of us thousands of messages every day. They tell us that we're not tall enough, or thin enough, or young enough, or something--enough."
Here's the deal: When I see only scarcity, I miss the fact that every single one of us has been gifted with creativity, heart, love, passion, gentleness, helpfulness, caring, kindness, tenderness and a shoulder to lean on (for crying for dancing depending on the mood at the time). This is the paradigm of Sufficiency. In other words, the absence of a "house" doesn't mean that the home is diminished. Broken relationships, empty bank account, loss of desire, loss of stuff, grief, anxiety, stress--while less than pleasant, and at times downright unnerving--can never rob us of what is within. When Jesus reminded us that we are the "light of the world," he didn't add, "But only after you have your house in order."
Sufficiency is the fuel, forming the ingredients and gifts that make up our home. Maybe the "house" we put these gifts in, is not a building, but an encounter, a gesture, a conversation, a helping hand, a smile or a hug.
The bottom line is this: carrying the little girl's paradigm, we change what "counts."
A woman visited the home of an old potter at Santa Clara pueblo. She admired the enormous collection of pots her host had on display throughout his home. 'How many do you have?' the woman innocently inquired. Her host lowered his eyes. 'We do not count such things,' he replied quietly.
Buckminster Fuller, he of geodesic dome fame, said that scarcity is about a "you-or-me world," and sufficiency is about a "you-and-me world."
I get it. If we begin with sufficiency, then perhaps what we "carry"--our home--is not stuff (or things or possessions) but rather opportunities. Opportunities to be generous, big-hearted, kind, human, thoughtful, empathetic and attentive. Opportunities to offer hope. Even if the gift we give (or the light that shines) comes from a wounded or broken heart.
I have an idea today. Let's break the rules. The old rules demand that we obtain, consume, clutch, win at any cost, and give only when it makes sense. As a result, we see only what we want to see.
The little girl is right. We do have a home--full of gifts and a light that shines. A place that anchors us and sustains us. So. What houses can we put our home in today?
We can shift from scarcity to sufficiency,
from complaint to commitment, from envy to gratitude. We can, through the stand we take, through the power of conversation, and through conscious attention to our legacy, change the dream. Lynne Twist
(1) Lynne Twist quotes from The Soul of Money
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