Once again, my dear friend with whom I do not always see eye-to-eye has tested me. Facebook is an interesting place to test one’s tolerance and open-mindedness, especially when someone decides to be quite vocal about their political positions. This is very uncomfortable to me, but I am mistaken to think that my not speaking out means I am not revealing my true colors. It would also be a mistake to think that I am right and they are wrong. Who knows?

I am referring to a post comparing our current president to a snake, stressing that the very same people who are afraid to touch one have placed this man in office and that many may eventually regret this, wondering why the snake has bitten them. “I am a snake, what do you expect?”

Everyone is allowed his or her opinion, and no one knows the whole truth. Some who feel right will discover they are mistaken; some whom we believe to be wrong may end up being right. Some will be a bit of both, depending on the context and changing circumstances. No discussion or debate is solely about righteousness.

In essence, any debate is an opportunity to inspire all parties to consider other points of view and variations to their own opinion and belief. We can focus on the debate itself, the intensity of emotion, often anger, that fuels each word and pronouncement, but we can just as well focus on the opportunity to seek to understand each other better. Understanding does not mean agreeing, it means accepting. Opinions are not the whole of a person.

Speaking of snakes, I happen to love them and any reptile I come across is perceived as a magnificent creature to observe, love, hold and even kiss. I am drawn to them. Interestingly, I happen to have cast my vote in favor of the current president. I do not understand everything he does, I probably also do not fully grasp what I think I know. In any case, I voted for the one some refer to as “snake”, and I wonder. Could it be that the analogy actually refers to a real phenomenon? Is it possible that 100% of the people who elected this man also love real snakes? Could a study of allegiances to plants and animals reveal consistent correlations with political and social allegiances?

Wouldn’t that be interesting? 

The events of September 2001 somehow revealed a level of hatred beyond any understanding. Interestingly, though presumably everyone wants peace, it resulted in more hatred and misunderstanding. Within a few weeks of the tragedy, my husband and I attended a famous Celtic Festival in New Hampshire. It was my first time at such an event. The contrast with the world atmosphere shook me deeply.

When we initially decided to attend this event, I felt guilty. Was it acceptable to seek entertainment while the world mourned a tragedy of unthinkable magnitude? Was one permitted or able to enjoy festivities in the midst of such anger and pain? I internally vouched to spend the day reflecting on the toils of humanity. I was 37 and ignorant of the many facets of war games, both globally and psychologically. I felt I needed to gain some mature perspective on these matters. I was guilty of ignorance.

The moment we began walking through the venue, which spans an entire resort, my mind went into a swirl. There were more people dressed in medieval garb than modern clothes, there were tents and vendors that seemed to be straight out of a history book, and there was enchanting bag pipe and drum music throughout the site. We sat on a hill and watched, silent, transported and moved.

People were dancing, juggling, singing and laughing. How could there be so much joy, so soon? How could there be so many people there? Were we all insensitive? The answer came to me the instant I began to examine these questions. Peace and joy are always stronger than pain, and the ability to join in a place of music and joy was an expression of perseverance, perhaps even faith.

Eight hundred years ago, people of another time had done the same thing. They had watched their fellow men fall to persecutions of all sorts, put on their best clothes and gathered on the public place to celebrate the feast of the day, to seek healing in laughter, music and, most of all, community. A sense of community, the ability to embrace diversity based on intricate and subtle little common threads, can override any divergence in belief, opinion or background.

On that day, in 2001, at the New Hampshire Highland Games, thousands of people who were as horrified and hurt as me had come together in spite of the pain. Strangers smiled and nodded at each other in perfect accord as they listened to the music they loved. We had all gathered there as though we had known each other for centuries. There was no hatred there simply because there were no apparent reasons for discord. It was a microscopic, yet gigantic expression of our natural propensity for communion and peace.

Though there were no major world tragedies at the time, I had had a similar experience many years before, when I lived in Montreal. A friend had invited me to attend an event called “The Night of Publivores”- a twelve-hour screening of the best, most creative ads in the world, from seven at night until seven the next morning. The movie theater was packed. When a crowd of hundreds of people of all ages and backgrounds is confined and awake for twelve hours, chaos becomes a distinct possibility. Nop. It was fantastic.

During intermission, some folks made paper airplanes. Soon, the entire theater became the arena of a silent air show, perfectly and joyfully orchestrated by hundreds of strangers who had separate stories, different tastes and different beliefs. It did not matter. A sort of microcosm of historical communities had formed, quite spontaneously, as though one did not require hundreds of years of coexistence and evolution to experience community. All was said and done in just twelve hours.

Fourth of July celebrations are another example, but with an added perspective. Since they typically attract a town’s own population, it is possible to observe people return to their respective homes after the festivities. Neighbors who rarely speak, often simply out of shyness or a sort of fear of invading each other’s privacy, can be seen gathering and chatting as they watch the parade or attend a community potluck in the park. When the day is over, we return to our respective homes, resuming the standoffish lives we are accustomed to. Perhaps we need a reason, even an unspoken one, to come together. It requires an ability to be vulnerable and bold all at once. We are more likely to knock on a neighbor’s door to borrow a tool than merely to say hello. Maybe we simply need to say hello a bit more.

I have a hunch there is silliness in everyone, a little jester who has come to believe that being serious is the proper way to be, except sometimes. I imagine this silly vision of a warfront where, unbeknownst to both sides, all ammunitions were replaced by flowers, confetti and balloons. When the shooting begins, everyone is taken by surprise, stops and starts laughing in perfect accord. And this is the end of hatred.

Slainte!