Three independent scenes come into focus during the present Act, from my personal Book of Life –

1.      “Joe, it is the first time ever that I walked out of a Theater Exile production, not feeling emotion’. I am literally perplexed having come to this realization.  The play had amazing potential - A photographic shoot from a girlfriend whose lover recently passed, aiming to capture his mother on film, with NO premise as to why. And the ghost (the boyfriend/son), who has left this earth a generation too soon. The possibilities of pure emotion at the recap of unresolved beings so often is the case as one passes were so apparent.  Yet here instead, there is a void - the characters each involved independently relaying their lines, a medium so ripe for chemistry, yet there was none.

2.      It seems ever since Trump took office, these two old friends (on opposite sides of the political fence) religiously keep the midnight oils aglow presumably in conversation. (Typically, upon multiple yawns from both Trish and I as we excuse ourselves to our respite for the evening).  In the morning Mike assures me once again, there is no concern for the relationship - perhaps they are closer than previously this time, in their disbelief vs disgust.  “I don’t think he’s open to hear anything I say”, he sighs.  Not only do I hear his futile-ism, I have witnessed it from both of them.  

3.      ‘It’s a small company, many hats are worn’, is conveyed as a statement.  One speaking to an observation of self and a personality disposition of an employee – acceptance abound.  The other in response, inquires to see if having specializations or focused positions is welcomed as an option – unsure if all are expected to perform with the same flexibility. I interject, observing the misconception and clarify both sides. This time, rather than implode as the nausea creeps in, I can open the pathway toward comprehension. Here luckily it is my role to do so.

I am in a state of heightened awareness – so uncomfortable upon observing these gaps in conversations; so frustrated at bearing witness to the beginning of a fissure – like a simple stream finding its path toward the pool, over time wearing its foundation more and more until a ‘Grand Canyon’ manifests in loss of intimacy.

Some are guilty, all responsible, echoes – liturgy from my child-bearing days.  What is our responsibility as observers?  Is it to introspect and bring our mindfulness into every relationship, being present each moment, one at a time?  It is everywhere, from political parties, to the conversations regarding the right to bear arms, to root causes and ways to prevent or shut down spraying lethal aims at our children and communities, to keeping old friends impassioned, and united, like bookends. Old friends.

I was tasked with creating the debrief for our up and coming SHRM Diversity and Legislative committee’s Diverseforce VIII Bullying, Harassment and Violence in the Workplace. We decided that Deirdre and I would open the program with a live theater skit, emulating a passive-aggressive response to a bullying situation.  She and I continue the dialogue long after the other members move on with their day, connected souls for justice.

What is the line? It keeps moving and changing and the shades of grey too innumerable to capture.   The initial questions, which are applicable here as well are this:

At what point did the conversations distract you or get your attention?

When did the behavior cross the line? What is the line?

Being true to one’s authentic self and taking action are parts of my core values.  I am pained when witnessing the divide in conversations, and am challenged to respond - Tikkun Olam, repairing the world.  One conversation at a time should be enough, however today, doesn’t seem to be.

May we all act in such a way to bridge the gap, feel the pain of those left behind when disconnects in human kindness yield senseless deaths, and create a vision of peace.