Wednesday, May 5, 2010

My Plate, Arizona, My Plate

There is a lot of talk about Arizona these days, immigration, legal or not, borders virtual or not.

I find myself thinking of countries, languages, acceptance and tolerance and I am questioning understanding of such principles. Can I lump all this to my already full plate?

I entered the USA using legal channels I can therefore judge only by the content of my experience. Were the people I encountered accepting or tolerant of me? No, not at all must be my answer. I did not fit! I did not speak the language of the land, I did not eat the foods of land, I walked aimlessly down the rabbit hole not knowing how I got there or where it would take me.

The borders I have crossed provided me with a need for my own boundaries. I had to create a safe envelope. Did anyone know I was frightened, ill at ease? No, of course not, they were engaged in their own lives.

I made an enormous discovery! LANGUAGE, I learned the language of the land. I could fit with more ease, some began to accept me because we could communicate, some began to tolerate me because although they realized we were different we were not afraid of each other.

The rabbit hole became my pasture simply because I was able to communicate without restrain. I of course was a legal entity and from my experience that made enormous differences.

Now I know no matter what, my plate, can only receive what it can hold, I cannot give my rightful food to hungry people around me. I must nourish myself first. Is my plate different from a State?

I am a writer, not a politician, I am a humanitarian and I know I must first accept myself, perhaps after that I will make room for those I do not yet accept. I am also one that entered the country via legal channels, this allowed me the methods to lose fears and learn the language, this also allowed the choice to become an American.

From my vintage point, if we lived on a planet without borders, I probably would not be having such thoughts but we do reside on a planet where everything is rather complicated and until these things change I trust I must simply write.

As I write these lines I know again that the lessons I learned when writing my first book Lessons from the Lakeside are all indeed pointing toward the discovery of self.

I will invite to my table those I know I can share a meal with. I cannot invite you all, I simply do not have enough.