Backyards of the USA (connection beyond our differences)

I was asked once, in a small group led by the wise and compassionate poet, Mark Nepo, to describe my favorite window.

The answer came to my mind and heart immediately. It is the window in the small roomette of an Amtrak train. It is the reason I prefer train travel to flying, despite its unpredictability, extra time, and expense. It is the window through which I have seen the backyards of people I will never meet, and have listened to voices I will never hear as they whisper to me that we are so much more alike than we could ever be different.

I love solo train travel because of this window. Its glimpse into all that we are leads me back to the unshakable knowing of our deep connection.

There is so much division in our world. On social media, where we often see the most filtered or wounded displays of each other, it can feel like we are so divided that it would be impossible look into each others eyes and hearts and see anything but our differences.

I know that's not true. As I watch the lives of strangers pass by the train window, from big cities like Chicago to small rural towns in the Great Plains, I see our similarities everywhere.

Regardless of the political leanings of various cities and towns I travel through, regardless of the flags and signs that might be displayed in people's front yards, regardless of what kind of vehicle is in the driveway, if any at all, it's the backyards that matter to me.

The backyards show me the ways we are alike. The backyards make me yearn to stretch my open hand through the train window and hold, even briefly, the hands of those I pass.

Over and over I would say, "I see you. We are alike."

I have seen so many tricycles and swing sets waiting for the return of innocent children. Clothes drying in the sun and dancing in the warm breeze: expressions of personalities and professions worn and taken off again and again. Holiday decorations of all kinds, spreading cheer, goodwill, hope and faith in dark times.

Half-finished projects, standing in various stages of neglect as people juggle the demands of life, or the ebb and flow of mood and motivation. Animals, contained by various types of fences, providing tender companionship, nourishment, or both. Flowers, reaching from seeds planted in neat rows or wildly scattered, adding a bit of color and beauty to the view of life.

Through the train window I have witnessed the various ways we attempt to make sense of our existence, add beauty to life, express ourselves, conceal ourselves.

The many ways we try, and the many ways we fall short.

The ways we tend to what we care about, and the ways we neglect what we care about.

The things we don't boldly display in our front yards. The things we sometimes hide. Our shared humanity.

Our resiliency. The determination of the human spirit. The ways we create meaning even when life seems meaningless, add color when everything seems gray, and care when the world seems careless.

Our faded, weathered and broken pieces. The ways we hold on to things for too long, throw tarps over our messes, and apprehensively peek at the world from behind heavy curtains.

I have seen evidence of hope, kindness, determination, community.

Just as I have seen evidence of sorrow, hurt, loneliness, despair.

But most of all, I have seen evidence of Love.

Again and again, I have seen evidence of Love flowing through the backyards of the US (and of us), connecting our hearts beyond all our differences.

Each train trip, each look through this window, deepens my sense of connection, compassion, and love.

Each train trip, each look through this window, shows me something much deeper and longer lasting than the things that keep us apart.

For Us to Ponder:

What experiences in life provide evidence of connection and shared humanity despite our differences?