I'm delinquent posting, as I've been in a family-induced fog of buttons pushed, memories reignited, and that yearning feeling of love me, love you, and let's do our best to get along, which keeps me in the trenches of the Thanksgiving family spirit of isn't this great, not really, oh-yes-it is great! after all.
Inclusion.
Thursday morning, I went with mom to the Unitarian Church in downtown San Francisco, where the African-American Methodist preacher flanked by his beautiful Samoan wife, spoke of growing up in the South when segregation was the thing, and "inclusion" became his thing.
That resonated with me.
We all want to be included.
I want to be included, too.
Inclusion.
A family that includes. There exists in my family certain family members (2) that exclude others based on appearances & money.
Low level people really when I stop to think about it, which I shouldn't, for there are loftier compassionate spirits in the world.
The Methodist preacher spoke of a broad inclusive family, which, naturally, the Unitarian Church embodies and embraces.
And his word "inclusion" echoed through the Zen leader's meditation, the rabbi's story recounting Yom Kippur, the Cantor's melodic singing, and the priest's... we left about then to have lunch at Fisherman's Wharf (we had a reservation) but the notion of inclusion of others' ideas, ways, religion, and lifestyle choices stayed with me.
I wish more people would do more than reflect on inclusion, but rather would make non-judgment and inclusion of others as part of their way.
Going a step further, and maybe it's an oxymoron, I wish if anyone were to be excluded it would be those vocal meanies who judge and exclude others for base reasons.
I'm at my dad's now. I traveled to San Francisco without my computer (an experiment unlikely to be repeated) so I'm using one of his photos from a recent trip to the Galapagos. It's my stand-in photo that says, despite our differences...
Inclusion.
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