Letter From My 48th Year (Feb 12)
On Sunday, someone I admire spoke out of a place of vulnerability, in part about asking for help, and that sometimes we have to ask for forgiveness for not asking for help. Why is it so hard to ask for help? Why is it easier to assume the attitude of “I got this” when we so don’t. Why is it so hard to let people sow into our lives, particularly in a time of need, when people are hungry for a chance to help us? Why do we have such a love-hate relationship with vulnerability—we love the idea of vulnerability, but not necessarily the practice–which at its core is what asking for help is all about. This may be a leap but I’m wondering if that’s why the rich and powerful seem to despise the poor so much, because of the vulnerability of poverty. Because the rich and powerful don’t want to be reminded of their own vulnerability, and that we can all be made vulnerable in an instant no matter how much money or power we have with which to insulate ourselves. Don’t they say you hate most in others what you despise in yourself? So if you despise your own vulnerability then it’s inevitable that you will try to punish those who remind you of vulnerability, regardless if you are willing to own that particular motive. To that end, is unmitigated greed about fear as much as it is about want and power run amok?