Posted in Inspiration, Nature Notes, tagged compassion, Contributing Writer, empathy, essay, family, Inspiration, life, nature, Photography, racism, Talking Writing on June 10, 2013| 7 Comments »
There is a time and place for everything. I guess now is a time and place in my life to collect seashells and rocks and blossoms that I let dry in the sun. As I collect these things, I ponder. Here is a recent essay inspired by a broken bowl of stone and shells: fragile beauty.
Posted in Branches, Inspiration, Nature Notes, tagged Arnold Arboretum, beauty, compassion, family, Inspiration, landscape, love, nature, Photography, random thoughts, storytelling on May 6, 2013| 3 Comments »
… inspired in part by reading Tattoos on the Heart The Power of Boundless Compassion by Gregory Boyle. An excellent read that highlights the power of compassion, the strength found in families (however family is defined) and the impact of telling someone “you matter in this world.” The book is composed of nonfiction stories. I suppose that’s why stories keep bubbling up in my mind.
My brother remembers it as the “rumble in the jungle.” I remember it as the school bus ride from Hades. The short of it is that I was in the 8th grade and he was in the 6th grade. I don’t remember how the message was communicated but somehow during the school day I was told that he was going to get jumped on the bus ride home that afternoon. And he was. And then he remembers me saying, “Get your hands off my brother.” Luckily our older brother had taught us how to make fists ’cause there were plenty of them flying. Eventually the school bus made it back to school, the older boys were suspended, and my brother remembers that no one ever tried touching him again. I remember the principal saying to me, “Cynthia, what were you thinking? How could you get yourself into a fight?” I didn’t reply but the answer was easy. I wasn’t thinking. There was no thought at all involved. No one was messing with my brother but me. Family ties, right?
But what tied my aunt to the girls who wanted to mess with her granddaughter? There was an incident where my aunt had to sit on her brownstone stoop to bar entry to this gang of girls. As I wrote in an earlier post, she said to them, “I do not know why you did what you did to my grandchild. I do not care what you say now, that you want to play and not fight. You shall not enter this house without removing me first.” The girls looked at her, how frail she was. My aunt returned the look and shook her head. “I love my grandchild, do you hear? I love that child and,” she added without hesitation and with great sincerity, “I love you too.” The girls, all of them, walked away without further word. My aunt did not know those girls and yet she did and does still love them. Why?
Other random thoughts flutter through my head like butterflies (in shades of gold and gray and a bit of blue). But I must stop and get up from this computer and head out into a sunny day. Where ever you are in the world, I hope you are having a good Monday.
Posted in Inspiration, tagged Boston, compassion, empathy, Inspiration, John La Farge, kindness, nature, Photography, stained glass window on April 16, 2013| 9 Comments »
Detail from stained glass window by La Farge in Trinity Church, Copley Square
Recently, that fellow in my life, S., went to the grocery store. He stood in line with his basket of goods. No doubt, something delightful for us like smoked salmon and cheese. In front of him, a woman leaned against her cart. Two children played about her legs. The cart contained bulk items like cornmeal and potatoes, a few greens and some milk. Later, he told me that she looked so worn, her eyes so dark. After her purchases were rung up and bagged, she pulled out her purse. The man stepped forward and said to the cashier, “I will pay for it.” The woman said nothing. She put away her purse, grabbed her children and pushed her cart away. She did not say thank you, nor did he need her to.
*
One day I stood at the bus stop. I’d underdressed. The wind blew hard and I was so cold. Even as I huddled unto myself, I felt a tap upon my shoulder. I turned around. A young college student stood. He held out his coat. “Would you like to wear this until the bus comes?” I took him up on his offer. I said thank you, but I forgot to ask his name.
*
Growing up in Virginia, as soon as spring was sprung and all the snow was gone, my father would head out to our little garden patch with his metal shovel and begin to turn the earth. It was ritual. But one year, he had a stroke and was unable to go out and so my younger brother and I took the shovel to the garden. It stood taller than either of us. We tried pushing the blade beneath the soil together but we were not strong enough. But we continued on because unless that garden was created all would not be right with the world. At some point, “out of the blue,” a man appeared. A next door neighbor that did not get along with my parents. He was curmudgeonly. He had brought with him his fancy tiller. He grunted and that was all he said to tell us to get out of the way. And then he turned the earth for us. I don’t know if my dad ever thanked him, but we did plant a garden that year.
*
There are many evil deeds done every minute of every day but there are also those random acts of kindness. That is what I try to keep in mind.
Posted in Inspiration, Nature Notes, tagged anger, compassion, culture, current-events, Inspiration, nature photography, personal opinion, politics, race, society, voting on October 30, 2012| 5 Comments »
It was Martin Luther King, Jr. who wrote, “Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.” His words have been in my head a lot this election year as has his following statement: “Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up … injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.”
leaves blowing in the wind
I did not begin the morning thinking of Martin Luther King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail. I began the day thankful after learning, via phone calls and emails, that friends and family across the storm zone were all safe and with power. But then I accidentally read a blog post. Actually I skimmed it. I had almost pressed the like button but there was some phrasing that made me pause. I slowed down and really read the words before me on the screen. That’s when the beautifully subtle racism and misogyny of the text became clear. And I became so sad and so angry.
It was like the post became a flaming match that fell upon the kindling of recent stories about the subtleties of race and voter manipulation (let alone outright voting machine tinkering) in this 2012 election, and of my own experiences with the subtle undercurrent of rising racism and class discrimination and watching good-hearted people not wanting to talk about it.
I thought of the people I’ve sat quietly beside on recent commutes home, as they’ve talked about how they like the look of Romney and Ryan and don’t like Obama’s look, and then they see me and my brown skin and look away quickly. I was not angry at them or even necessarily offended. I simply wanted to ask them, what does a “look” have to do with running a country in a chaotic world?
rain upon the window
I will never tell anyone how to vote. I will simply say to those in this country who are able to vote, please do and do so with an understanding of who and what you are voting for. Do more than a skim of the text or a superficial look. That is what I will try to remind myself anyway. Okay … tomorrow back to calming words and images. Be well.
Posted in Inspiration, tagged compassion, earrings, Inspiration, light, mental illness, musings, Photography on September 17, 2012| 1 Comment »
I have this pair of earrings that sit on the windowsill. They are broken but their beauty is such that I cannot make myself throw them away. When I get into a cleaning mood, when I just want to create some space, I almost reach for them. But then the light … yes, always the light … will strike the pieces revealing a uniqueness that once tossed I will never find again. That is the thought that came to mind this morning as I found this image on my camera. I often have trouble labeling a photo but instantly the words “broken light” appeared in my head. And those two words brought to mind an inspiring blog, Broken Light: A Photography Collective. The site presents the powerful words and images of those living with, or affected, by mental illness. If you have not had a chance to view Broken Light, I highly recommend a visit. 😉
Posted in Inspiration, tagged compassion, life, Photography, photos, pictures, small gifts on June 5, 2011| Leave a Comment »
One hot summer, in a church bookshop, I worked with a young woman that everyone called “the little red-headed girl.” She was far younger than anyone else working there, a recent high school graduate. She was a joy to work with. There was such an air of innocence about her that the rest of us tried to look out for her. It’s not that we worked in a rough neighborhood. But that particular summer there were many incidents with homeless men who drank too much. There was panhandling, a few fights, and sleeping in the pews. The police were called often. So when the little red-headed girl sat at the main entrance of the church, as we all did at some point in our shifts, we worried about her. She was always fine, and would later relay funny stories of incidents with parishoners, tourists and sometimes the homeless men. Because of her youth, some of us more jaded folk found ourselves on occasion smiling condescendingly … especially when we discovered what she was doing with the angel coins. You see, the bookshop sold pewter angel coins for a dollar each. The girl would regularly buy several coins. When asked why, she explained that she gave them to people — friends and family for sure, but also to strangers on the street. Eventually the summer neared its end. The red-headed girl headed off to her first year of college.
Perhaps a week or two later, I sat at the front desk. I watched as a man approached the glass doors of the entrance way. He did not know or care that I could see him as he tried to make himself presentable, wiping his face with his shirt tails and using saliva to smooth back his hair. When he entered, as I expected, he reeked of alcohol. I simply said, “Welcome. How may I help you?”
He wrung his hands. “I’m here for the AA meeting.”
I glanced at the clock. “Sir, I’m sorry, but the AA meeting is three hours from now. Just come back and …”
“Don’t send me away. Please let me wait in there,” he said, indicating the sanctuary. “If I leave now, I won’t come back.”
“Sir,” I said softly, “You know the church’s policy …”
“I’ll pray, ” he said.
“You can’t fall asleep.” My shift was nearly over. I wouldn’t be able to go in and wake him up before security tossed him out.
“I won’t,” he promised.
Still feeling uncertain, I smiled and opened the door. As he entered the sanctuary, he turned to me. “Is that red-headed girl here?”
“Why do ask, sir?”
He reached into his pocket. “She gave me this,” he said as he held out his hand. An angel coin, of course. “I’ve been holding it tight since she gave it to me one day.” He placed it carefully back in his pocket, stepped inside the sanctuary, sat in a pew and bowed his head. I don’t know if he prayed. I don’t know if he made it to the AA meeting. I don’t know where he is this day. I just know from that incident that hot summer I learned from a little red-headed girl what a difference a small gift can make.
Posted in Inspiration, tagged compassion, forgiveness, kindness to strangers, Lanier W. Phillips, Michael E. Ruane, race, segregation, tolerance, Washington Post article on September 16, 2010| 1 Comment »
In today’s Washington Post, there is another powerful story involving hands, in this case, what happens when people lend a helping hand to strangers. The article is by Michael Ruane and is called “Shipwreck survivor recalls how town altered his idea of race.” I highly recommend you read the entire article if you can, but if you can’t here’s the crux of the story: In the winter of 1942, an 18-year old black man serving in the U.S. Navy survived a shipwreck off the coast of Newfoundland. He is the only black man among a group of white sailors who made it to shore. The son of sharecroppers and great-grandson of slaves, he had been raised in the segregated deep south, and served in the deeply segregated military. His heart was well on its way to being filled with hate for the people around him, especially for those people who treated him as if he had little value. But fate intervened.
On the shores of a strange land, covered in oil and freezing, the young man was approached by white people who held out their hands to lift him up, to warm him by a fire, and to wash the oil from his body. Now in his 80’s, he recollects that one of the locals remarked that day, “I can’t get the oil off his body.” The sailor had to explain that “It’s the color of the skin. You can’t get it off.” Eventually one of the townspeople took him home, fed him soup, and basically treated him as the human being he was. The actions of those townspeople forever changed the perceptions of that young man about his world and the people in it.
One act of kindness changed a life. And, if you read the article, you get the sense that that young man went on to change other peoples’ lives, whether in the military, walking with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in Selma, AL, or with his own family.
At first the article made me sad as I remembered my father’s stories of military prejudice when he served in the Korean War. It also reminded me of the rise in hate by people in this country of other people in this country based purely on skin color and certainly religious belief. But in the end, the article made me hopeful, reminding me that there has been and still is goodwill in the world, and that there is meaning and impact in lifting one’s hands to help even just one other person.
You can read the article here.
Words + Images 