in the ups and downs and the heavy, dense pieces of my mind... things only make sense for scarce minutes at a time. Most often the moments come as I'm drifting off to sleep. I think of things I want to write down, but without the energy to move my arms I can only repeat them over and over... hoping I remember in the morning. I don't remember.
No matter their opinions on the subject, when I share with people that I'm about to donate an organ they all ask the same question. "Why are you doing that?"
I could write a book about (and I will) my answers to that question. But I could answer it in three words.
Because it's right.
The more people who profess carelessness, or the more people who say "but why should you care?"... the more alien I feel. I can't wrap my thoughts around it. I can't wrap my head around how we each feel that WE are the only beings that matter. How we assume ulterior motives when someone seeks to help "just because." How we cant help but ask, "what's in it for me?"
What is in it for us?
I was told by someone that it would be "too much to ask" of my organ recipient simply to pay it forward. That *I* shouldn't expect anything in repayment. (Is that what that would be??)
It boggles my mind.
I was told that I can't expect anyone to support me, help care for me through this "elective" process, because it's "not their problem." It makes my insides hurt more than any operation ever could.
Perhaps what's "in it for me" is the knowledge that there is still such a thing as altruism... should such a thing exist. I need desperately to prove to myself that there is still good in the world. That people do still care. Perhaps I need to be the change I want to see in the world. Perhaps what's in it for me is karma. Perhaps it's improving my chances that, should I ever need the help of another or a life-saving organ, the fates will shine on me. Perhaps it's just right.
Every person on this list of 111,136 (as of 9:15pm today) is a son or a daughter. Many of them are husbands or wives, fathers or mothers. And every one of them will die soon. Without help, or luck, that is. With deaths and impending deaths, the list that gets both shorter and longer every day. And for most of these men, women and children (90%), a new lease on life can be easily granted by others.
If I have two of something, but only need one... and someone else, anyone else, has none and will die without one... how could I not share my good fortune? How could I possibly look away? How could I possibly say No. You can die because of my neglect.
But it's not MY fault, you might say. Then whose is it?
We're all responsible for one another. We all depend on one another every day. We depend on farmers and ranchers to grow our food. We depend on truck drivers to bring our gasoline. We depend on law enforcement to lock away our murderers. We depend on surgeons to sew our broken pieces back together. Can we depend on each other for things that we are not paid for?
There are enough of us.
There are enough of us that truly do care for others. That have an answer to the "why do you care?" question. That would step up to protect another human being. I don't know if we could solve any problem. But I know we could nearly eradicate the suffering that we go through when our own bodies begin to fail us.
I could not bear to think of myself as someone who is not THERE when others need her. When I help someone I love, when I am there for them, there are those who say "well I didn't ask you to do that."
My response to that is, of course you didn't. You should never HAVE to. If you love someone, if you care for them, or even if you don't... they should never need to ask you for help. Help is an obligation.
Lately I have struggled to uphold this ideal. Not to fold under the pressure of an epidemic ideal: "well you don't help me, so why should I do help you?" Railing against it crumples my insides into tightly squeezed fists of doubt and anxiety. It can be so hard not to act out of pain. So hard not to turn your hurt back out into the world. Not to betray your ideals because of the betrayal of another.
It hurts to be good.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
setting our minds
It's so strange to hear Americans buzzing with joy, proudly passing along the news that we have murdered Osama bin Laden. It's so odd to hear the President state that he ordered another man be killed. No judge and jury in this case. But it is okay, just because of who this man is. Surely we all agree. He must be murdered.
I'm an Obama supporter. I always have been.
"His demise should be welcomed by all who believe in peace and human dignity." I believe in peace. I feel quite strongly about human dignity. Yet I have mixed emotions about this.
By no means am I an Al Quaeda supporter or a Bin Laden fan. It seems he was quite a terrible man. I was horrified by the events of 9/11. But I was also horrified by our actions that followed. I was horrified by the murder of hundreds of thousands of Iraqi women and children who had no part of 9/11 or terrorism of any sort. We committed those murders. All of us did.
"America can do whatever it sets it's mind to."
Osama was clearly a man who believed viciously in what he thought to be true. So much so that he was willing to kill for it, willing to die for it. And no educated person can argue that there aren't abundant, legitimate reasons to hate Americans.
He fought and killed for his own beliefs, for his extremist faction. In that way, he was just like us. We too fight and kill for what we believe. And our beliefs are held just as fiercely as his.
There is no "right and wrong" in extremism. We are not right, and they are not wrong. We are all just believers, holding fast to morals that we can no more prove correct than our beliefs in adversary gods. His followers/sons/cousins/nephews will be incensed by his death, just as our parents/spouses/children/friends were enraged by the Trade Center attacks. And the killing will continue. Violence begets violence.
After the week I've spent being utterly disheartened and dismayed with virtually all of humankind, I'm puzzled by the cheering. I flash back to my disgust in the late months of 2011. The ignorant Toby Keith songs encouraging a "boot in their ass," the Muslim fear and hatred, the vilification of all people brown and the American flag stuck to every gas-guzzling Hummer and pick-up truck. I hated being American.
As everyone's profile picture seems to change simultaneously, Facebook reminds me of why I'm having flashbacks:
Last week I followed a car that had a bumper sticker that read: "Nuke 'em. It worked once before." I was tempted to ram into him, if only so that we might get out of our cars and I could scream at him for his asinine beliefs, about the permanent effects of radiation... and how it will sooner or later be our turn.
Today at Walden Pond I sat and wrote about how difficult I find it. Coping with my own anger sometimes, that is. How hypocritical it is for me to believe in non-violence, and yet become so very enraged in the face of ignorance. How heavy-handed and judgmental I can be when faced with the views I so passionately loathe. How I certainly do not always manage to treat others as I want them to act. How violence, even emotional or verbal... begets violence.
I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. "Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."
- Martin Luther King, Jr.
I'm an Obama supporter. I always have been.
"His demise should be welcomed by all who believe in peace and human dignity." I believe in peace. I feel quite strongly about human dignity. Yet I have mixed emotions about this.
By no means am I an Al Quaeda supporter or a Bin Laden fan. It seems he was quite a terrible man. I was horrified by the events of 9/11. But I was also horrified by our actions that followed. I was horrified by the murder of hundreds of thousands of Iraqi women and children who had no part of 9/11 or terrorism of any sort. We committed those murders. All of us did.
"America can do whatever it sets it's mind to."
Osama was clearly a man who believed viciously in what he thought to be true. So much so that he was willing to kill for it, willing to die for it. And no educated person can argue that there aren't abundant, legitimate reasons to hate Americans.
He fought and killed for his own beliefs, for his extremist faction. In that way, he was just like us. We too fight and kill for what we believe. And our beliefs are held just as fiercely as his.
There is no "right and wrong" in extremism. We are not right, and they are not wrong. We are all just believers, holding fast to morals that we can no more prove correct than our beliefs in adversary gods. His followers/sons/cousins/nephews will be incensed by his death, just as our parents/spouses/children/friends were enraged by the Trade Center attacks. And the killing will continue. Violence begets violence.
After the week I've spent being utterly disheartened and dismayed with virtually all of humankind, I'm puzzled by the cheering. I flash back to my disgust in the late months of 2011. The ignorant Toby Keith songs encouraging a "boot in their ass," the Muslim fear and hatred, the vilification of all people brown and the American flag stuck to every gas-guzzling Hummer and pick-up truck. I hated being American.
As everyone's profile picture seems to change simultaneously, Facebook reminds me of why I'm having flashbacks:
Last week I followed a car that had a bumper sticker that read: "Nuke 'em. It worked once before." I was tempted to ram into him, if only so that we might get out of our cars and I could scream at him for his asinine beliefs, about the permanent effects of radiation... and how it will sooner or later be our turn.
Today at Walden Pond I sat and wrote about how difficult I find it. Coping with my own anger sometimes, that is. How hypocritical it is for me to believe in non-violence, and yet become so very enraged in the face of ignorance. How heavy-handed and judgmental I can be when faced with the views I so passionately loathe. How I certainly do not always manage to treat others as I want them to act. How violence, even emotional or verbal... begets violence.
I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. "Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."
- Martin Luther King, Jr.
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