Recent disclosures in my karate life have led me to reflect on the impossibility of knowing what’s in another person’s heart.  I believe in the goodness of people, at least that all people are capable of heart-felt connection to others that makes our humanity possible.  Capability, however, does not equal reality, and sometimes those among us who are most willing to believe in the best people have to offer are therefore vulnerable to the realities created by those whose hearts are driven more by a desire to dominate, control, or manipulate others in ways that are entirely self-serving.  Unfortunately, the short-sightedness of this self-serving approach to life can be concealed in a world where the easy momentum of day-in-and-day-out of life allows us to live within our hopeful presumptions rather than examine our relationships themselves — because it is only in relationships, active, involved communicating relationships, that we can come to see beyond our presumptions (often hopeful, idealistic) to the realities that are present.  This helps me to understand moments in my life when I have recognized a certain toxicity in a group of people working in close proximity.  It is like a slow gas leak, I suppose.  One is breathing just fine.  The headache that starts as the atmosphere becomes more toxic is easy to dismiss.  As the headache persists, and aspirin is easy enough at hand.  So, just take it and the presumption that all is well remains.  But then the drowsiness sets in and if we haven’t recognized the toxicity of the very air we are breathing, then we will lay down to rest not realizing that death is nearby.

When it comes to human toxicity, actual death might be a good outcome compared to the alternative.  Because in human environments we adjust to the toxicity, and in doing so forget what the air felt like going into our lungs prior to the toxic fumes invading our atmosphere, and our presumptions about our own health remain in tact.  Denial about this toxicity, or hopefulness that it will simply go away is a common response.  And, sometimes the toxicity runs itself out, or the non-toxic air overwhelms the toxicity.  But in cases where the toxicity has abundant resources (like the trust of the leaders of the community), failure to act against that toxin, or hoping that it will go away is a retreat from the human responsibility we have to each other.

It’s not that these things are easy to sort out.  Assessing the health of a community, its relationships and communicative practices is the central driving feature of the manuscript I have been working on for the past eight months.  All this involves making judgments.  Judgments can be very dangerous because they tend to close us out from seeing alternatives.  People who make snap judgments and then doggedly refuse to consider other possibilities are toxic.  People who refuse to re-examine their own presumptions about others, or who assess situations and position themselves as knowing better than anyone else, are toxic.  To be around these kinds of people and to support them even in the most general ways — like socializing and cultivating friendships with them — gives their toxicity more potency and more reach.

It takes courage to act in response to a toxin that is hidden because it is concealed within the healthy aspects of the environment.  Let’s just pretend it’s not there.  Let’s just wait and it’ll go away.  These are dangerous responses.

Acting against human toxins like this is not straightforward.  It requires a great deal of involvement in those very relationships.  It involves a dedicated effort to examine relationships and practices to try and discern what makes the difference between toxic and healthy.  And, it requires that we be open to seeing and doing things differently.  We live in a world with so much inhumanity.  Why would we not take every opportunity to look, see, and live in ways that allow to keep re-seeing the possibilities and the limitations of each of us and the communities in which we live?

I welcome your thoughts.