to remind us we all break the same
it was a lovely evening tonight right around dusk. i was driving home from work at about 8:45. we had a caregiver support group tonight. they are all dear people.
anyway, the weather was perfect, a lingering 75 degrees, pouring in over my window panes and washing over me. i wore one of those silkish shirts today, so it felt much like a cool stream pouring over my shoulders, as if i wear sitting in my bathing suit. it's quite a nice sensation.
so i was driving home, and my way home takes me right through the ghetto on daniel morgan ave, you know, running up near the beacon. the place was alive. an ice cream truck was still out driving through, families out in their yards, the voices of children at play. usually when i drive through these areas at dark, i have my windows closed and i am wary of sketchiness. but it was not quite dark, and i was pulled to the thought that really we all live in twilight, somewhere between darkness and light.
then i realized the difference in my train of thought as i drove through. usually i'm taken aback by the seeming idleness, by the sullen jaywalkers and the bad drivers. but i was experiencing the area with a kind of sympathy/empathy. and i realized that it must be that i had just left from support group.
leading an alzheimer's caregiver support group challenges me to understand a world that i've never been in. i spend an hour and a half immersed in the lives and experiences of these dear, sweet others. and when i leave i am empassioned for them, planning my next day, who i need to call and check on, what i need to do, how i need to work harder and better for them. i am living outside of myself. and i guess that switch was still turned on.
at about that point in my train of thought, my ears told my brain what lyrics my cd was playing: only tears can remind us we all break the same. we all break the same. we all break the same. (mutemath.) and i listened to that song the whole way home.
because it's true. it's only in sharing each others' hardships and sorrows that we come out of ourselves and remember that we all are the same. we all break. we all hurt. we all cry. it may be different things causing it. and ultimately, what makes us different is how we hold ourselves up, or put ourselves back together, or act like nothing is wrong.
we all break. night falls. day breaks. we are all the same.
so as night falls here, another day begins in afghanistan. my dad has been emailing us pictures of what he is doing. villagers receiving medicine. school children receiving shoes. the life and the need in all of their eyes. dad said he was looking at some pictures that his predecessors had taken, and he had to put on his sunglasses and step outside. he was brought to tears by a simple photo of a mother holding up her hands in a new pair of gloves, with her small child holding up her hands in a new pair of mittens.
people have needs that are so easy to meet.
i was watching the news last night, and they were reporting on darfur. how the army there is not allowed to take action, only patrol and observe. and it seems so useless. and sometimes i feel like all of the world is one army of eyes, watching only and doing nothing. the us army has it right in afghanistan. my dad is there as a soldier, and his job is that of a humanitarian. they are helping a nation of people rebuild, hopefully for the better. we are always working towards the better.
and we have to keep working towards the better. it is the responsibility of our nation. and it is the responsibility of each of us. we ought to be doing here what they are doing there. we ought to all be not only seeing, but listening. not only listening, but hearing. not only hearing, but moving to help.
after all, we are only human. we each need the help of each other. we will each have a time we are broken. we are all the same.
that is my universal truth for the night. :-)
anyway, the weather was perfect, a lingering 75 degrees, pouring in over my window panes and washing over me. i wore one of those silkish shirts today, so it felt much like a cool stream pouring over my shoulders, as if i wear sitting in my bathing suit. it's quite a nice sensation.
so i was driving home, and my way home takes me right through the ghetto on daniel morgan ave, you know, running up near the beacon. the place was alive. an ice cream truck was still out driving through, families out in their yards, the voices of children at play. usually when i drive through these areas at dark, i have my windows closed and i am wary of sketchiness. but it was not quite dark, and i was pulled to the thought that really we all live in twilight, somewhere between darkness and light.
then i realized the difference in my train of thought as i drove through. usually i'm taken aback by the seeming idleness, by the sullen jaywalkers and the bad drivers. but i was experiencing the area with a kind of sympathy/empathy. and i realized that it must be that i had just left from support group.
leading an alzheimer's caregiver support group challenges me to understand a world that i've never been in. i spend an hour and a half immersed in the lives and experiences of these dear, sweet others. and when i leave i am empassioned for them, planning my next day, who i need to call and check on, what i need to do, how i need to work harder and better for them. i am living outside of myself. and i guess that switch was still turned on.
at about that point in my train of thought, my ears told my brain what lyrics my cd was playing: only tears can remind us we all break the same. we all break the same. we all break the same. (mutemath.) and i listened to that song the whole way home.
because it's true. it's only in sharing each others' hardships and sorrows that we come out of ourselves and remember that we all are the same. we all break. we all hurt. we all cry. it may be different things causing it. and ultimately, what makes us different is how we hold ourselves up, or put ourselves back together, or act like nothing is wrong.
we all break. night falls. day breaks. we are all the same.
so as night falls here, another day begins in afghanistan. my dad has been emailing us pictures of what he is doing. villagers receiving medicine. school children receiving shoes. the life and the need in all of their eyes. dad said he was looking at some pictures that his predecessors had taken, and he had to put on his sunglasses and step outside. he was brought to tears by a simple photo of a mother holding up her hands in a new pair of gloves, with her small child holding up her hands in a new pair of mittens.
people have needs that are so easy to meet.
i was watching the news last night, and they were reporting on darfur. how the army there is not allowed to take action, only patrol and observe. and it seems so useless. and sometimes i feel like all of the world is one army of eyes, watching only and doing nothing. the us army has it right in afghanistan. my dad is there as a soldier, and his job is that of a humanitarian. they are helping a nation of people rebuild, hopefully for the better. we are always working towards the better.
and we have to keep working towards the better. it is the responsibility of our nation. and it is the responsibility of each of us. we ought to be doing here what they are doing there. we ought to all be not only seeing, but listening. not only listening, but hearing. not only hearing, but moving to help.
after all, we are only human. we each need the help of each other. we will each have a time we are broken. we are all the same.
that is my universal truth for the night. :-)