This blog, over 50 posts strong now and a couple of months old, must read like an EKG of the (irregular) beats from my broken heart. It's mainly an attempt to be emotionally honest about what it feels like to go through a painful, unwanted loss of love at my stage of life.
But there is also, I hope, an undercurrent of hopefulness here, based on my respect for the courage of people to make big changes in their lives. (Previous posts in this vein include "Open Road" and "Free Bird.") Tonight, I am thinking about the courage it takes for a woman or a man to leave everyone and everything (s)he has known behind, and to go off in search of a new identity; and to do all of that in the context of helping others who are badly in need of her help.
Though they are a motley crew, for sure, the thousands of people who have poured down to the Gulf Coast in the wake of the devastation rendered by Hurricanes Katrina and Rita share something special. They all cared enough to show up. One of the leaders of an especially effective grassroots group down there told me in January that was his definition of being qualified to help in a disaster -- "showing up."
Think about it. Those of us who have a loved one down there, trying to help rebuild communities in ruins, are torn in that we feel we will never know exactly how much of what motivated them to leave us was running away from life here, as opposed to running toward embracing life there.
Most people in our country live and die, never having pushed themselves to a limit that forces them to confront who they truly are, by abandoning everything safe, and devoting themselves in a larger sense to the human community. Those who can use rhetoric claiming to do so (including all politicians, in my view) are frauds.
In reality, it is the anonymous individuals, sometimes fragile in ways no one newly around them could possibly appreciate, who have come from somewhere else to the scene of disaster to help for a while, also hoping to discover something essential about what is going on in their own lives so that they might go forward with a better defined sense of purpose -- these are the true heroes among us I celebrate tonight.
And, of course, I wouldn't be me if I didn't add that my biggest hero is also the source of my greatest pain. For every loss, there is the possibility for someone else's gain. For me, echoes and shadows and silence. For Biloxi, a lovely Angel, with grace, compassion, and a heart big enough to hold all of that community's pain, with an eye on its future.
They are so lucky to have her. That they do is one of the things I truly love about her...she had the courage to show up.
No comments:
Post a Comment