the nerve

Reader,

On Saturday, I shared how Neighboring Intelligence helps us engage the world with mercy, discernment, and a commitment to human dignity.

When things feel off inside our own story, it takes intentionality and wisdom to stay grounded.
But what about when the divide stretches between us and someone else?

Neighboring doesn't often start with certainty.
Mostly, it begins with risk—the risk of reaching across a divide, of some size or another, that you have no guarantee will be bridged.

During the darkest years of The Troubles in Northern Ireland (1968-1998), while paramilitary violence and sectarian hatred flourished, Catholic and Protestant women were quietly creating revolutionary spaces of connection.

These women risked their reputations, safety, and sometimes their lives to gather across the religious divide.

In communities where association with "the other side" could lead to accusations of betrayal, ostracism, or worse, these gatherings required supernatural courage. Meeting in church halls, community centers, and private homes, they defied the unwritten rules of segregation that had become normalized throughout Northern Irish society.

Half a world away, in South Africa, Father Michael Lapsley suffered devastating harm during apartheid—being exiled from his country due to his outspoken advocacy for justice and human rights, and in losing both hands to a letter bomb, sent by the apartheid government.
He could have chosen fear, or retreat. He could have hunkered down in emotional and relational exile. He could have retaliated with hatred and violence.

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​Instead, he chose to stay open.

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He returned to South Africa and founded the Institute for Healing of Memories, which created safe spaces for people to share their experiences of suffering and begin a journey toward healing. The Institute's workshops brought together people from across racial, religious, and political divides, allowing them to acknowledge past pain and work toward reconciliation through storytelling and collective healing practices.

He risked himself, again, to be a neighbor –– even to those once committed to destroying him.

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This kind of courage—the kind that moves towards rather than away from—is what I call Nerve.
And it’s the first posture of Neighboring Intelligence.

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🧠 Nerve: The Catalyst for Real Connection

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​Superficial neighboring is pretty safe and pretty easy.

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But the kind of neighboring that quells regimes, dismantles status quo systems, pulverizes poverty and heals loneliness epidemics requires wise, courage-fueled risk.

It looks like crossing divides first, without waiting for proof or permission.
It looks like daring to see others humanity clearly, even when history, fear, or pain tempts you to look away.
It looks like trusting that small movements of love still matter—even when the need feels impossibly wide.

Courage like this breaks cycles of poverty, abuse and isolation –– making deep belonging possible.

🌱 Reflection:
Where might love be nudging you to reach across a divide—
even if it feels risky, messy, or small?

Your fellow nervy neighbor,
Camille

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