Lately I find myself having thoughts along the lines of, “How can we be such sophisticated monkeys who create so much beautiful art and innovative technology, and this is the society we’ve made?” How can I live in a country that seems to really pride itself on being a land of opportunity while, compared to other industrialized countries, the likelihood of social mobility is rather low? A country that prides itself on its virtue while still struggling to admit to our tendencies toward wealth inequality, gender-based and racial violence, and environmental harm.

The veil of cynicism is not enough to cover over despair, disappointment, hopelessness. These feelings point to our deepest longings and hopes that want to surface. Something in me, and I think many of us, believes—knows with a surprising certainty—that life can be different. Knows that we’ve been given false choices around what kind of life is available to us, what kind of resources, who is worthy of comfort and joy, who deserves health and protection.

That belief, that hope, runs into tension with those parts of us that feel disillusioned. Parts that remember feeling a deep sense of belonging that turned out to be conditional. Parts that remember the hurt we’ve experienced when we took risks and tried. Parts that fear if we question the values we’ve received, if we reject the society we’ve been given, we’ll lose our ground of connection. Parts that fear betraying our family legacies, even when those legacies carry harm.

These parts constrict in fear when we want to move toward faith and hope. These parts take in our ancestral legacies of seeking safety and security when we want to move toward possibility and freedom. We need to bring all of these parts of us into dialogue, to discover the new dream that is free of the old illusions, one in which we can pursue with hope and passion.

The veil of cynicism is not enough to cover over despair, disappointment, hopelessness. These feelings point to our deepest longings and hopes that want to surface. Something in me, and I think many of us, believes—knows with a surprising certainty—that life can be different. Knows that we’ve been given false choices around what kind of life is available to us, what kind of resources, who is worthy of comfort and joy, who deserves health and protection.

That belief, that hope, runs into tension with those parts of us that feel disillusioned. Parts that remember feeling a deep sense of belonging that turned out to be conditional. Parts that remember the hurt we’ve experienced when we took risks and tried. Parts that fear if we question the values we’ve received, if we reject the society we’ve been given, we’ll lose our ground of connection. Parts that fear betraying our family legacies, even when those legacies carry harm.

These parts constrict in fear when we want to move toward faith and hope. These parts take in our ancestral legacies of seeking safety and security when we want to move toward possibility and freedom. We need to bring all of these parts of us into dialogue, to discover the new dream that is free of the old illusions, one in which we can pursue with hope and passion.

Do you want to join me in this inner dialogue? Join me in January for the first Recalibrate session, From Safety and Security to Resilience. We will engage in a daily process of contemplating the tensions between our longings and our beliefs, coming to know our truth more deeply, and committing to action that lives out that truth.