Life brings experience. If we let it, experience brings change. Over time I find that my beliefs shift, my values refine and things that once seemed clearly correct don't feel right at all. Often there is an every-day moment that brings this shift into focus.
I had such a moment recently. My daughter, fresh from a year in a democratic school, started laying out rules for her new group of friends. I cringed. It wasn't the quality of the rules. Megan has always been thoughtful of others and a year of parliamentary procedure and democratic rule-making built her skill making clear, fair rules. Rather my cringe was at the concept of rules.
I began to question my self-classification as "democrat". To be clear, I"m not talking about a political party. It's the more common definition that I find myself rejecting. It's the majority rule or majority vote approach to life and governance. It's the idea that passing a rule will solve a problem, that might makes right (even if that might is in the form of votes).
I remember being my daughter's age. Back then I believed that the right rules could solve anything. I loved rules. Rules could make my world ordered, safe and predictable. My adult self knows this isn't true. Now I see rules differently.
At their best, rules are a substitute for relationship. In situations where strangers who have little in common must co-exist, rules can add efficiency and increase security. An airport, for example, couldn't function without rules. There is no time or space for building trust and care, so instead we use rules to tell us how to behave toward one another.
The problem comes when we make the substitution within the context of a community. When our neighborhoods, gathering spaces and places of worship use rules unilaterally to solve problems, or when a group of girls begins to form rules before they have even met together for the first time, rules serve a different purpose. In these cases rules divide. They categorize behavior as either right or wrong. As those behaviors are attached to people, rules become catalysts for judgement and righteousness. They are enemies of trust and care. Rules don't just substitute for relationships, they block them from forming. They tell me that I am right and you are wrong and there is no need for me to get to know you, explore your ideas and learn your viewpoint. They create a wall between us and box me into my own righteous certainty.
The alternative is trust and vulnerability. Living without rules means taking the time to listen to others' needs and finding the courage to voice my own. Listening takes time and energy so often in short supply. Sharing needs is even more costly. Sharing means traveling through uncertainty, exposing myself as needy and putting myself in your hands. It means being disappointed. It means understanding that needs don't always get met. It means embracing and sharing my own vulnerability. That, I'm learning, is the cost and the source of connection. It is only when I open myself and embrace my vulnerability and yours that we can connect. As terrifying as it is to approach that moment, it is there that we will build the foundations of joy and peace. It is there that our deepest need is fulfilled - our need to be connected to others.
Democracy and parliamentary procedure can never teach us this. They can buy us order and there is a time and a place for that. The danger is in substituting rules when understanding is possible.
I'm glad I live in a larger democracy, albeit a very flawed one. In my day to day life, however, I don't want to see lists of rules. I want to be with you, face to face and understand you. I want to place myself in your care and know that trusting is better than carrying armor. I want to pick up the piece of litter that you dropped and clean the coffee cup you left unwashed and be at peace believing that we are all just doing our best. I want to let go of "fair" and "right" and live instead in truth and resilience.
If this seems radical to you, if you think I'm setting myself up for hurt, if you think I'm crazy, come on over. I'll wager two cups of tea that when we sit down face to face we will connect and we will both be richer as a result.
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