Relating

There are phases in my life (and I hope in others') when my heart becomes possessed, overwhelmed with love for the people and things around me. I have an immediate urge to hug even the most mundane presence in my life; the trainer at the gym, the parking attendant, a longtime customer at work. During these times I am in a perpetual state of mentally giving thanks for all that I have, all that I have been spared of, and all that I see lying before me. After returning to a warm home that I share with someone I deeply love from an invigorating workout, I prepared a really satisfying meal, and realized that not only am I in the midst of a spontaneous love fest, I actually understand the impetus.

Admission: I am a news junkie. This is born mostly of my enjoyment of picking things apart, of studying culture, of observing communication dynamics, and of understanding how each of us falls in to a unit of purpose in the world. In the last week there have been two major headlines; A man using his God-given talent of voice to panhandle for survival was given a second chance at life, and a woman who dedicated her time and energy to serving and listening to the public was nearly robbed of fulfilling hers. How can one not be brought to the senses in wake of these events and evaluate what it means to be human? I don't think my brain ceases to measure my humanity against that of another's, that of society's, and that of any given subculture. Suffice it to say, I am obsessed.

We are responsible for one another.

When I first saw the story of Ted Williams, "The Man With the Golden Voice," I was stunned. My very first thought was that I was witnessing the talent of a truly humble soul. I am continually astounded by the degree to which success is linked to self promotion. It just doesn't seem fair that some mediocre jerk with a mountainous ego could enjoy a prosperous career while somebody with innate talent is left to beg on the side of highways. In the case of Ted Williams, he more than paid for the decisions he made that led to alcohol and drug addictions; losing his career and family, becoming estranged from his parent, being forced in to homelessness... Despite how long his rapsheet is, how hard others have worked to "legitimately" make it in broadcasting, or what the chances are that he has some secret hidden past, this is a human being with a genuine talent that has been given a chance at redemption. I find it indescribably uplifting that he has been afforded the opportunity, at the very least, to reunite and make amends with his loved ones. When I watch the news outlets question his ability to responsibly handle his newfound fame, while simultaneously dissecting and criticizing every element of his past, it just breaks my heart. Why can't we as a nation unite in joy for a fellow citizen rather than publicly scrutinize every possibility of their failure? I understand that this is the (unfortunate) role of media in our society, to exploit and engage a topic in it's most inflammatory and least likely facets, but WHY? Sadly, there really isn't a fair or satisfying answer to that question, but it seems that the goal in promoting stories like Ted's should be to expose and promote the notion that the extraordinary exists in the most banal and unconscious aspects of our lives. Every story has a right to play out naturally before the "I told ya so" instinct kicks in.

So needless to say, I was feeling pretty uplifted and inspired by the Ted Williams story. As far as I'm concerned, I am his steadfast cheerleader and I certainly hope that he is able to withstand the pressure of fame in order to sustain success. But just as I was really content on celebrating the resilience and redemptive qualities of the human spirit, an Arizona politician, along with her colleagues and constituents, were spontaneously gunned down. Listening to the breaking news over NPR, as I sat warm and safe on a slow day at the candy shop, I was crippled with regret for this strange culture, this feeble national morality under which we all mindlessly operate. Without knowing a single thing about the gunman or the victims one thing was glaringly clear; someone felt that there was no better alternative to handle their anger, and that person was empowered by both the law of the state and the larger cultural constructs, to obtain a weapon and use it against another living, breathing, cognizant human being. However, in this case the act of killing and maiming was perpetrated by a person with severe metal illness. I can't attempt to turn this in to a political debate, and honestly, politics has no room in this discussion. I also can't pretend to have the psychological answers to effectively interpret the shooter's motive. However, there are a few prominent and relevant aspects of popular culture that repeatedly smack me in the face and leave me feeling utterly helpless, frustrated, and disgusted.

I literally mourn for the child who is brought up distracted by shoot 'em up games while Mom gossips on her cell phone. I can feel my heart being wrung like a sponge when I hear friends describing the thrillingly gory and graphic images of a film or television show. I wince, close my eyes tight, and quietly wonder how calloused a soul must become to watch when I am exposed to such scenes in my own personal viewing of media and film. And yet, in the throws of this cultural bombardment of violence, negativity, cynicism, and entitled rage, we scratch our heads in wonderment while simultaneously wagging fingers of superfluous blame over how atrocities of the Arizona shooting caliber could ever take place. Especially now, as I am allowing excruciating levels of sympathy to enter my heart, I am fully aware of one simple strategy of minimizing the suffering and damaging cynicism in the world; find love.

It sounds cliche and oversimplified, but it is the truest sentiment. None of us can control our pasts, our upbringings, the wrongdoings we've endured and committed, our sensitivities and needs. What we CAN control is how those things motivate the people we strive to become. We control how we foster these strengths and flaws in others as well.

We are responsible for one another.

In the case of Ted Williams, it is denial and fear that prevent people from feeling compassion and joy from his story. None of us are willing to admit that we are all one degree of sanity away from losing everything we own and love to addiction, but that is the grave truth. One too many cocktails over time, an injury that demands prolonged pain medication, innocent experimentation that snowballs without warning; these are the routine realities of addiction. Similarly, when we invest so much time and money in to the Hollywood thrillers and explicit media content that constitute the bulk of popular culture, it is nearly impossible to recognize the subtle and cumulative psychological effects of such repeated exposure. In the end, even our political and religious climates are permeated by polarizing, defensive, self-righteous rhetoric. In either case, it is obvious that the average American's psyche is left damaged and confused, and incomprehensibly so in the case of one who struggles with addiction, poverty, homelessness, and mental illness.

It is easier said than done, easier recognized than practiced, but I'm positive that this sudden infusion of affection, devotion, and compassion in my own life is born of the severe lack of those qualities I perceive in the current practice of civility. Putting inflated news stories and gratuitous portrayals of misery aside, I let myself feel for others. I work to understand the perspective of those most deviant from my own, and try to understand why such chasms in the human experience exist. It's never certain which encounters may validate the darkest depths of a tumultuous mind, but it's far less likely to go wrong with the promotion of gratefulness and love.

I have all the fulfillment in the world that I could possibly need or deserve, and while there's room for growth, there's certainly the possibility of loss. I can only hope that the recognition of this dichotomy is the rule of humanity, rather than the exception. And so I try to tread lightly, live humbly, and find grace before placing blame. I'm not always successful, but it's my appreciation of life that pushes me to love beyond my limitations.