How many dimensions do any of see in when we look out at the world? There, that man walking down the street — the one with the blue shirt and the white bag slung over his shoulder — what do you see when you see him? How about the politiician with whom you disagree? The guy in the car in front of you who cut you off? How many dimensions can we use to try to understand what we are encountering? What we are seeing from a distance?

Just how flat is the world we live in? I think it’s often pretty flat.

I’ve spent a lot of my life with pretty clear ideas about people. Republicans. Jocks. Preppies. Hipsters. Capitalists. Country fans. This list could go on.

Each of these views is pretty flat. Pretty 2-dimensional. Truth is, all of these are completely partial. There are far more dimensions present than I could begin to count.

Assuming that there are always dimensions beyond what I can see is a recipe for acceptance and creating a space of belonging. This requires curiosity. It requires patience. It requires my being honest with myself.

Speaking of which, how many of my own dimensions am I aware of?

And what might surprise me?

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What happened. Sometimes the thing you were working on to share. The one you pulled together in a rough draft. Sometimes it says to you — I am