We need to give each other the space to grow, to be ourselves, to

Host:
The sun was setting over a wide open field, its light melting across the tall grass like liquid gold. The wind moved gently, carrying the scent of earth and lavender, and a sense of unhurried time hung in the air. A long, weathered wooden fence cut across the hill, not as a barrier, but as something honest — something that once divided and now simply stood.

Jack sat on the fence, his boots dusty, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the horizon where the day bled into twilight. Jeeny stood nearby, her hair tugged softly by the wind, her eyes watching him the way you watch someone trying to remember who they are.

The air was quiet — not empty, but filled with the kind of silence that invites reflection rather than demands it.

Jeeny: her voice carrying softly in the open air — “Max de Pree once said, ‘We need to give each other the space to grow, to be ourselves, to exercise our diversity. We need to give each other space so that we may both give and receive such beautiful things as ideas, openness, dignity, joy, healing, and inclusion.’” She paused, looking out toward the amber light spilling across the field. “You don’t often hear people talk about space like that — as something sacred.”

Jack: half-smiling, eyes still on the horizon — “Most people think love means holding on. Turns out it’s just as much about letting go.”

Jeeny: turning toward him, the wind catching her voice like music — “Yes. Love without freedom is possession. And possession kills what it claims to cherish.”

Host:
The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in fire and rose, while the shadows grew longer around them. The sound of distant birds carried through the stillness — soft, fleeting, free.

Jack: with a quiet chuckle, tinged with sadness — “Funny. We talk about inclusion, diversity, respect — but what we really mean most of the time is control. We don’t want people to grow differently from us. We want them to grow conveniently.”

Jeeny: nodding, her expression thoughtful — “That’s because difference challenges us. It holds up a mirror to our limitations. Giving someone space means surrendering the illusion that we know what’s best for them.”

Jack: softly — “And that’s terrifying.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly, eyes kind — “It is. But it’s also holy. Space is where growth happens — for them, and for us. The same sunlight that warms the oak warms the wildflower too.”

Host:
The wind rustled through the grass, and a few petals drifted past, caught in a swirl of gold light. The moment felt alive, like the earth itself was breathing, reminding them both that coexistence was not a concept, but a rhythm.

Jack: after a pause, his tone gentler — “You think we’re capable of that kind of generosity? Of really giving each other space without taking it personally?”

Jeeny: quietly, yet with conviction — “We have to be. Because love without room for difference is just conformity in disguise. And communities without that space become prisons built from good intentions.”

Jack: looking down, voice thoughtful — “So space isn’t distance. It’s respect.”

Jeeny: smiling softly — “Exactly. The distance that allows understanding to bloom instead of fear. You can’t hear someone’s song if you’re shouting your own melody over it.”

Host:
The first stars began to appear, delicate and uncertain, like ideas being born in the mind of the night. The light between them dimmed, replaced by a softer, deeper kind of clarity.

Jack: after a long silence — “You know what I realized, Jeeny? We always talk about growth like it’s personal. But maybe it’s mutual. I mean… every time you let someone be themselves, something in you stretches too.”

Jeeny: gently, her words almost a whisper — “That’s the miracle, Jack. Space doesn’t separate — it connects. Like gravity. The more room you give someone to become themselves, the more you draw each other toward truth.”

Jack: smiling faintly — “You make it sound like diversity’s not just social — it’s spiritual.”

Jeeny: nodding — “It is. Diversity isn’t what divides us; it’s what keeps creation alive. The world didn’t make one tree, one star, one soul — it made billions. It’s the divine’s way of saying that beauty was never meant to be singular.”

Host:
The night fully descended, and the sky burned with stars — scattered and unique, yet belonging to the same infinite tapestry. Jeeny leaned against the fence, looking upward, her eyes reflecting the light above.

Jack: after a long pause, voice quiet, almost reverent — “You ever think space is love’s hardest lesson? To care deeply, but still let the other person wander?”

Jeeny: softly — “It’s not just love’s hardest lesson — it’s life’s. Real compassion isn’t about proximity; it’s about presence. You don’t have to hold someone close to stand with them.”

Jack: gazing at her, eyes soft in the dim light — “Then maybe that’s what faith should be too. Not a cage for belief — but a field wide enough for every voice to sing.”

Jeeny: smiling, eyes glinting in the starlight — “Exactly. Maybe heaven isn’t a place above us — it’s the space we make between us.”

Host:
The wind slowed, and the world settled into stillness. A quiet peace spread across the field, the kind that feels earned — the silence after two people finally understand each other.

The stars above burned brighter now, mirrored in the faint glimmer of dew gathering on the grass. The air felt vast, limitless, like the idea of possibility itself.

Host (closing):
Max de Pree’s words carry the timeless truth that freedom and love are not opposites — they are the same breath.
To love without control, to grow without judgment, to stand beside others without eclipsing their light — that is the heart of inclusion.

For growth needs soil, yes, but it also needs sky.
And dignity, joy, and healing are not possessions to be shared — they are the flowers that bloom only when we stop crowding the garden.

As Jack and Jeeny stood beneath the vast, starlit sky, they understood —
that space was not emptiness, but grace.
That the true act of love is not to hold,
but to make room —
for each other,
for difference,
for the endless, sacred expansion of being alive.