A Letter from Chris Suarez
THE PANDEMIC OF INDIFFERENCE
This week has been a challenge for all. As an organization, as entrepreneurs, as leaders, of course, we are no strangers to challenge. In fact, we often take them head-on, look for them, strategize weekly on how to solve them, and we have even said that how we tackle those challenges is our competitive weapon.
But this week the challenges have been different. So much so that I almost didn’t write this letter. A clear or worthy message had not presented itself for me to share. I didn’t feel as if I was thinking clearly or communicating well. Our business mission and my personal mission is to “build experiential lives”. Life has been anything but experiential for so many, and that has been on a struggle for me to watch.
On one hand, I was tired, perhaps having slept less this week than any week I can remember. Perhaps from dealing with problems I felt ill-equipped to solve. Perhaps from listening and self-evaluating and observing. Perhaps from dealing with emotions of shock and shame, fear and frustration, instability and uncertainty, disappointment, and disbelief.
On the other hand, I was anxious. I found myself with nervous energy unlike I’ve ever had. Exercise didn’t calm it. Meditation didn’t calm it. Work didn’t calm it. Talking didn’t calm it. Quiet didn’t calm it.
Last night I drove out to the coast and I walked down to my favorite spot on the beach. The photo below is a picture of the horizon I saw as I stepped onto the sand. I’ve looked at this sky literally hundreds of times, and I had never seen anything quite like it. Of course, photos can’t possibly do real-life justice. To my left, an imposing storm had rolled in and covered Haystack Rock and much of the beach with pelting rain. And yet to my right stood Tillamook Rock Lighthouse. And surrounding the lighthouse was this incredible burst of light from the sun powering through the clouds and storm and bathing Ecola State Park and the shoreline below in what seemed to be a hopeful glow.
That lighthouse is no longer in operation but it was a reminder of what it stood for. The lighthouse was commissioned in 1878 and completed in January 1881. It has a long and storied history but was closed in 1957. On September 1, 1957 lighthouse keeper Oswad Allik made this final entry into the lighthouse logbook:
“Through howling gale, thick fog, and driving rain your beacon has been a star of hope and your foghorn a voice of encouragement. May the elements of nature be kind to you. For 77 years you have beamed your light across desolate acres of ocean. Keepers have come and gone; men lived and died; but you were faithful to the end. May your sunset years be good years. Your purpose is now only a symbol, but the lives you have saved and the service you have rendered are worthy of the highest respect. A protector of life and property to all, may old-timers, newcomers, and travelers along the way pause from the shore in memory of your humanitarian role.”
As I read that I couldn’t help but ask myself “How do we show up for each other right now as that ‘protector of life’ and ‘voice of encouragement’ and deliver a ‘humanitarian role?’”
I couldn’t help but think that this simple 180 degrees of coastline represented the week, the month, perhaps this year, and our world right now. There are storms, seemingly powerful storms, that are dark and ominous and unnerving and almost defeating. And yet I am certain, just like this coastline, that the sun always powers through.
There is an old prophetic verse that says “I well know…that man’s way does not belong to him. It does not belong to man who is walking even to direct his step.” We are ill-equipped to handle this on our own, to look to ourselves to solve all problems, or to look to one man or woman or politician to create a solution.
And, if there is one thing that we can do to become that lighthouse, what is it? What is the one thing we can do that collectively can quiet the storm, push back those clouds, and bathe that shoreline in sun?
In a recent interview, thought leader and author Patrick Lencioni said “The opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference.” It is easy to look around and label actions as either loving or hateful. Those two words are polarizing and dividing. They are actually quite easy to identify. And both of those bring with them strong emotions and visceral reactions. The world is lashing out over action of hate.
But remember. The opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference.
Indifference is implied when we are quiet. Indifference is felt in our families, in our communities, in our country, and across the globe when we don’t reach out and tell our families, our friends, our neighbors, our coworkers, and strangers that they matter. Because indifference implies that they don’t matter to us. Where in our world could our indifference be implying that someone doesn’t matter?
For months we were encouraged to make “care calls” to beat a virus. But a ‘pandemic of indifference’ showed up decades, even centuries ago, and has gone largely unnoticed, undiagnosed, and untreated.
We have rightly heard the word “matter” more in the last couple weeks than perhaps ever before. And we need to continue to hear that word every day moving forward. To “matter” means to “be of importance; have significance.” Every human being is important. Every human being has significance. Unfortunately, indifference says otherwise. It isn’t just an act of hate that minimizes worth. It isn’t just an act of love that demonstrates value.
The opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference.
Do not be indifferent. Busy lives, hectic schedules, and unnecessary distractions will allow indifference to creep in. Indifference is experienced by those around us as a lack of importance, a lack of worth, and a lack of mattering.
This week I challenge each of us to address the pandemic of indifference by showing up as that sun or lighthouse. By calling, and texting, and writing, and showing that those around you matter. Beat indifference. Indifference means “a lack of interest, concern, or sympathy; unimportance.”
Develop interest. Demonstrate concern. Display Sympathy.
You are important.
You matter to me.
Chris Suarez
