Sometimes, people cross our paths who teach us about healing, wholeness, resilience, and our own spiritual journey in more powerful ways than we can imagine. Yesterday was one of those days for me, and I want to step away from writing about brain training to share with you what for me was a powerful story.
During a local business luncheon, our speaker was the son of a genuine Nazi and white supremacist—his father was famous among the hate mongers in the US, so famous that his organization and activities were on the radar screen of places like the Southern Poverty Law Center. He was so famous that I choose not to share names or details, because I am not certain of the son’s safety if his name gets out.
This son told the story of being raised in a home where hatred and violence were everyday events. He spoke of breathing in and living in simmering, festering hatred on a daily basis. His stories of being taught as a child to hate all people of color, all those of the Jewish faith, and to hold especial hatred for whites who dared to marry people of color were chilling.
This son shared with us some of his attempts to live up to his father’s expectations through such things as writing a paper for school praising Hitler’s virtues and wearing buttons that proclaimed white power. With a matter-of-fact attitude that underscored the horror of it all, he did his best to convey his knowledge of what it looks and feels like to be steeped in a broken ideology. He believed all the hateful things. And his explanation of what it was like to believe all that definitely reached those of us in the audience, as evidenced by the utter stillness in the room as we listened to him.
His father’s evil deeds were the background of the story of a man searching for humanity in the midst of the crazy. He explained that vicious physical and emotional abuse were his daily life, because the hatred spewed outside the home was of course inside family life, too. His stories, even though I am positive they only touched the surface of what really happened and what it was really like, were horrific. And yet, almost worse than the abuse was the withholding of love, affection, and approval.
The daily abuse led the son to hate his father, but the absence of his father’s love was what almost crippled him. This man, like all children, yearned for his father’s approval and love—a yearning that was left unrequited. I am certain that you as a reader coming to this story at a distance must find it easy to imagine how hard it must have been not only to be raised under the banner of a hateful ideology but to have been raised devoid of a father’s love.
I don’t think, though, that this son wanted us to dwell on all that awfulness. He wanted us to acknowledge and witness, yes, but the real point of his message was one of love and hope. He shared with us that his life began to change when a coworker convinced him to seek counseling. It just took one person, kind and insistent, to provide the spark that fueled him forward on a journey of healing.
This son of a man who epitomized hatred reminded us that behind all hatred is intense fear. He also reminded us that it is impossible to hate others if you truly love yourself. He learned this for himself, the hard way, by learning to love himself despite messages his entire life that lied to him and said he was unworthy.
But mostly, his lesson had nothing to do with the words he spoke. His lesson was his presence among us. He showed us that a deeply wounded man raised in a dark and hate-filled home could step out of the cesspool. He could heal. He could love himself. He could love others. He could travel a path to serenity and more wholeness. He could teach others the lessons he’s learned along the way, and bring others along on the path of love.
The process of absorbing his story and imagining his world left me raw most of the remainder of the day yesterday. I constantly felt near tears from trying to imagine what it must’ve been like to be in his shoes and live a life of hatred and abuse. It was even more powerful to then imagine the gift given by one random person who saw inside him beauty and hope, one person who had the courage to name and call out that quiet, shining bit hidden inside the son of a Nazi.
And so, I share this story to honor this son’s effort to reach out and be that spark for other people. His example shows that it’s never too late, and it’s never too awful. Change can begin to happen at any time, for any of us.
Because my tool is neurofeedback, I of course think about how it can change lives by changing brains, but there are so many resources out there, if only you have the courage to reach out. If you are feeling stuck, lost, and hopeless, please do reach out. There are people who care and have the tools to help. There is likely a psychotherapist who can help. Or a clergy person. Or a doctor, chiropractor, nutritionist, massage therapist, Reiki master, acupunturist, or cranial sacral therapy practitioner. Or even a good friend with a knack for listening well can be that catalyst for change.
Whatever their job title or importance in your life, there are people who, like this man’s colleague who encouraged him to take a first step, will see the piece that shines within you, that piece you may not even know is there. When they speak, listen. In this case, the person who spoke is the son of a hater, yet he understands and speaks of love. Listen to him, as passed along by me. If it wasn’t too late for him, it’s not too late for you, either.
