when one heart hurts, all hearts hurt
It's not that I lack the empathy to understand the why. I have too much empathy, I understand all too well that people think they are the good one, even when they are carrying an explosive package spiked with ball bearings. The movies that scare me the most get this, too - not the ones where the hero is oh-so-obvious (even if flawed) but the ones where the villain is just as righteous and sure.
What I don't get, what I don't know that I'll ever get, is this: why don't they see that when one person hurts, we are all hurt? That the answer to hurt isn't to hurt more, it's to try to help everyone hurt less.
And I know that is how most people respond. "Look for the helpers," as our beloved Mr. Rodgers said, "so many caring people in this world."
But here's the rub: the majority of the time, we hide ourselves from the world's pain. I suppose we have to, because otherwise it hurts too much (and it does hurt too much, it hurts so much).
Yesterday, three people died in Boston and so many more were injured. Senseless fucking tragedy.
But the same day, all over this globe children were beaten by their parents, or by bullies, or even killed accidentally. Countless women and men were so angered over rivalries that really exist only in their heads, that they resorted to bullets or knives to solve them. I can only begin to imagine the military damage inflicted. When seemingly every country has an army, and armies exist to "keep peace," how are we ever going to get to a day without violence?
How are we ever going to get to that day of peace so we can keep it?
That's the question that grips me. And I don't have an answer. Only more questions and empathy than I can hold all at once.
So I go back to kindness. Always and always. Just simple kindness. Kindness to myself, kindness to you, kindness to my family.
(Remy lost his first tooth last night, which was a major moment for us. He let me help pull it out.)
And instead of being pulled into the media circus - which doesn't help anyone - last night we watched episodes of Saturday Night Live. Because we needed - I needed - to laugh. And my husband knows me well.
And today, I cry and I release and I laugh some more.
This is life. Filled with endless paradox - love and anger, laughter and pain, growth and decay, all at once.