I cannot call out from amongst the trees asking to be heard, recognized, or understood if I am unwilling to listen when another voice answers.
If I ask others to see me, then I must be willing to see them—not only those who look like me, think like me, believe like me, or come from the same culture, but those whose lives have taken them through parts of the forest I may never have known.
And once another life appears, the ground between us must become sacred.
Not sacred because we agree.
Not sacred because we are the same.
But sacred because another life has trusted the clearing enough to enter it.
If I want other lights to come from behind the trees, then I must help create a place open enough for them to feel accepted when they arrive. A place where difference is not merely tolerated, but heard. Where questions are not treated as threats. Where culture, experience, identity, and perspective are not required to disappear before belonging is granted.
I cannot cry out for recognition while refusing to recognize others.
I cannot ask to be understood while remaining unwilling to understand.
I cannot call for many lights and then demand that every light shine like mine.
Once we meet in the clearing, no one stands above. No one stands below.
The ground must be wide enough for all of us.
One Light Amongst Many.
