The Dividing Line

There are a lot of things that divide us — not only as a country, but as a world.

Political beliefs. Religious beliefs. Human rights, animal rights and God-given rights.

Money, love, sex, power.

Area code, eye color, hair color, ethnicity.

Education, income, materialistic things, things rooted in emotion.

Not forgiving, forgiving too soon, forgetting to forgive or forgiving but not forgetting.

The county we’re from, or the state, or the village, or the region.

The thing that never actually divides us, however, are all those lines on a map. Sure, some may be fences or rivers, but those lines that separate countries and counties and regions and people aren’t actually, technically there.

I was at a concert recently where the performer said one of the things that astronauts repeatedly remark on while in the International Space Station is how difficult it is to tell things apart from that high up. It looks peaceful, and the lines don’t exist. Countries blur together. We are, essentially, one. A bit closer of a look, however, and we realize that’s unfortunately far from the case.

Tonight I am thankful for the reminder that the dividing lines are there because we put them there. Sometimes it may be easier to compartmentalize and keep things in a small, tidy box so they don’t get out of hand, but dividing lines breed dividing lines. And the more we keep them where they are, the harder they become — for generations to come — to shake.

Here’s to erasing as many of them as possible.

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