the zyx's of life "X" xeniality

these 26 entries from z-a are meant as a tandem collection of short essays.  instead of the abc's of life, i'm writing backwards for two reasons.  t.s. eliot said that to make an end is to make a beginning, which i find true.  that and my grandfather could say the alphabet backwards faster than i could say it forwards.  now that's some wit.

x-xeniality:  hospitality

as i've alluded to in other posts, it strikes me that the word hospitality has, as it's root word, "hospital".  as if to remind me that coming together to share our stories and food is an act of healing toward wholeness; a chance to integrate, not merely fix, all of our experiences and to celebrate returning to who we are.

big zoom-out:  refugees.  i watched the movie "the swimmers" based on the true story of two sisters raised in a professional swimming family in Syria.  not to spoil the film for you if you haven't seen it, but they swim for over three hours in the ocean while pulling the refugee raft and overcome incredible odds not only to be alive, to compete in the Olympics, but to make a return to use their story to help others.

hospitality on a global scale.

zoom in a bit further:  public courtesy.  this could be a book in and of itself.  just this week alone i had a stranger bless me and give me the prayer card he carries in his pocket AND i climbed inside an outdoor garden pot to rid it of human trash.  these are both true things.  

serving the human species in general requires one to move with efficiency of both micro and macro movements, anticipating every need and multi-tasking in the extreme.  all of this without looking frazzled.  one must, should one commit to this art form, possess the outward grace and poise of a prima ballerina without letting on to simultaneously feeling inwardly like a totally deranged octopus. 

between the tensions of divine encounters and the inability of people to read instructions on basic trash and recycling containers, there has to be love or one wouldn't last the day.

hospitality on a community scale.

my holy longing on this topic is simple and often comes down to the little things:  returning shopping carts to the shopping cart return area, not throwing garbage in the public recycling, leaving extra time during errands for waiting in line or letting someone go ahead, driving the posted speed limit,  expressing appreciation while waiting for a car part to be ordered/installed, and not bringing your personal karaoke box to a public bistro.  end of rant, sort of.

why not walk the streets and stores of our neighborhoods for no reason other than to perhaps run into someone and pass the time-of-day chatting? these micro-actions just might change the world, or at least make an ordinary day potentially better.  

so back to the title.  "x" is a hard one, because it's a far stretch even for my imagination to link these thoughts to xylophones or xerox machines and i shall spare you that attempt.  xeniality is this great word that is fun to say and encompasses hospitable relations between guest and host.  among the ancient Greeks, this went as far as to constitute relations between those living in different cities.  

zoom in further:  your kitchen table.  one of my friends has hosted a spaghetti night for as long as i can remember.  the invitation is open and he makes spaghetti.  it's that simple and that good.  from him and others i've learned a few things.  

people seem most comfortable if you are comfortable.  homes need not be showrooms.  i do fluff and prepare before guests arrive so that things are sanitary, cozy and tidy, but i save the deep cleaning for apres-party.  reason being, people don't care about your place being perfect, it's the enemy of the good and stands in the way of enjoyment.  they care that you are relaxed and happy, inviting them to follow suit.

if you don't love to cook, buy things like olives, chocolate-covered almonds and baby cheeses (not to be confused with baby Jesus--that was a funny day at work) and put them in bowls.  dinner is done.  lots of food allergies or aversions?  it's bring your own potluck time.  there you go.  

sit down and start eating, guests will follow your unspoken body language.  don't hover.  do show them where things are and let them dive in if or as they like. don't act nervous about things being too precious.  if you have your heart set on a white couch, well, i don't know what to tell you on that one.

leave a key.  i'll always remember the joy i had at someone taking me up on my offer; at coming home to find a friend from Canada asleep on my couch. 

hospitality on an individual scale. 

this is challenging for us raised in noun-loving cultures where objects, possessions, and culture tell us that we need more things in order to be happy or the perfect environment before we can invite others over.  how silly.  

think back to a time you felt most welcome.  what did you most remember? i doubt it was the designer soap dish.  although designer soap dishes are pretty and have their place.  it's just not probably what you remember and if it is, no judgment.  i'm an aesthetics gal myself.  but people over stuff, always.  in my house you can put your feet up on things, you don't have to take your shoes off, and there are lots of lap blankets and wonky-sized mugs that hold enormous amounts of coffee or tea.  

verb-loving cultures have words, i suspect, that i don't even know yet for implying a deep sense of relationship when talking of things and people; an innate sense of belonging.  someone was just telling me the other day about visiting a tribe in Africa who, while making bread over the coals, knew that the bread was done after a certain amount of storytelling and catching up with one another.

today i listened to a podcast interview with the current US Surgeon General.  his advice?  listen, learn, love.

sounds like xeniality to me.