Scars and Scans

I’m at the end of nearly two weeks in Ireland. I flew over a few days before conducting my songwriting workshop, Mercyland, with my brother from another mother, Sammy Horner. We greased the wheels of a creative track by co-writing a few songs before everyone showed up from several countries.

As is usually the case, the workshop was a success. What does that mean? Well, a few things. For one, everyone co-wrote 6 songs during our intensive 3 days together. Most importantly, everyone left with a sense of belonging to a community.

It’s been happening that way for the last 7 or 8 years, because the workshop is designed to encourage folks, who likely have never met before, to drop their guard and get real. Consequently, Mercylanders have become life-long friends who’ve shown up at each other’s weddings and celebrations, and funerals.

Everyone carries pain and sorrows; some wear it on their sleeves, and others internalize, but the workshop creates a safe place to land for anyone who wants to allow the group to see their scars up close.

Friendship is all about the scars, isn’t it? Even if you’re reluctant to face or reveal your pain, most of your friends are well aware of a layer beneath your surface, just by being with you. Some of us ask what’s going on, while others wait for you to become aware of what’s apparent to the rest. The word “forebearance” comes to mind.

Long-term friendships occasionally entail awkward interactions and pratfalls, but hopefully there is a measure of long-standing grace and communication to get us through them.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to take another’s viewpoint less personally than in the days when I might take it as an attack. I reckon everyone’s journey to be unique to them. It reminds me of the different kinds of churches I’ve gone to over these many years. Most of the churches I attended (when I attended more than I now do) were insistent that everyone was on the same page regarding doctrines and contexts. “If you don’t believe such and such, this isn’t the place for you” was the message.

And they were right. That kind of place isn’t right for me, or anyone else who has enough faith to question things. There was a time when I might have felt the same way about religion; that the condition of your soul was determined by exactly what you thought about this or that.

My faith and my relationships have expanded by my willingness to accept another soul’s journey. The indoctrination of my earlier years caused me to worry about someone’s spiritual state, whereas I’ve now come to accept them for whatever mile marker they’re on on the Journey Home.

Relationships are hardest when it comes to politics, because so much is on the line when it comes to who gets elected. It’s a little harder to summon the grace to see those with opposite opinions of mine as having valid, changeable journeys. I wonder if they hope for me in the same way I hope for them?

My annual journey to Ireland is always enlightening. On April 2, I arrived in Dublin knowing that the gas shortage here is connected with decisions made by my government. While I’m here, I’ll even apologize if the opportunity presents itself. America is just one big, dysfunctional family, and I make it clear that I’m aware of how we look to the world, a world who sees us more clearly than we likely see ourselves.

The Mercyland workshop is a microcosm, just like a band is, or a family is, of a bigger picture. The Irish Mercyland is even more poignant regarding who we are in the world, because we have folks from the US, the UK, and Greece, not to mention Ireland. It’s funny how a group of people who have no true power will go out of their way for the well-being of others, no matter where they’re from. I wish governments knew how to do this. I’m old enough to remember when allies indeed cared for each other. To what end shall we use power if not to the end of goodwill?

Tomorrow, Sammy will drive me to Dublin airport, and I’ll check in, go through customs via Global Entry, and scan my US Passport, which will designate me as unique to one country.

But I hope to keep looking past our differences when it comes to my fellow travelers.

I’m learning that seeing beyond borders often makes for success in relationships.