02/25/2024
Moonlight and snowshoes are one of my favorite traditions.
My dear friend, Mim, has been organizing a night-time snowshoe when the moon is full about once a year–this was the 20th! It almost didn’t happen this year, but I reached out to say I’d be happy to organize it if she didn’t have the time, and she made the time. I’ve been with her on most of them, and it is a time that I often see close friends, often meet new friends, and sometimes have friends that I only know from this special event.
An often-talked-about one that I missed was when I was due with my eldest within the next week and still determined to go. I had to bail at the last minute, which gave all of my friends who had been worried about me going into labor an hour-long hike from the cars and another hour-long drive from the hospital significant relief, but I was crushed to miss out.
When we go on this outing, we all get out of our comfort zone, we all take care of each other and don’t go further or faster than the whole group is comfortable going, and we all talk about life in the quiet of the woods while the moonlight hits the sparkles on the snow.
Last night, we had some heartfelt conversations about the polarization of our world and how we as a society have grown to be so quick to see our differences and so willing to overlook the humanity in the people we’ve been taught to hate.
We are all human, and our needs, wants, and ideas are probably 95% the same, but we focus on the 5% or less where we are different.
How can we–in this world where the people we connect with are often fed to us through algorithms that find people exactly like us–choose to reach out, branch out, look fellow humans in the eyes, and learn how to understand one another?
How can we quiet the noise of the world and create moments and traditions that bring us together and prime us to truly see the humanity in the people with which we share the world, and choose to build the future we want to live in together?
How can we lose our fear and practice our curiosity?