The Spring of Hope
Since my last post, I've been thinking about the challenges of talking about race in our country. As someone who believes that all human beings are suffering in one way or another, how to honor the specific wound caused by racism?
I don't know how else to speak to it other than to say that I love people. The ones hurting today, the ones hurting tomorrow. My hope is that each person can find the means to release their anguish and find hope in the moment, and the will to believe that healing is within their grasp.
Samantha Power, the protector of human rights who stepped down from the Obama campaign after making unfortunate remarks about HIllary Clinton, spoke to the cruelty of this time, pointing to an era in which a child begs a man wielding a machete not to kill him by saying, "I swear, I will never be Tutsi again."
At times it seems healing is impossible. That to try to heal is to embark upon a journey of futility. But that is the time to remember all of those who suffered before and were not turned back by feelings of doubt and uncertainty. We can remember those who met the blade and even then believed that another could have a change of heart.
This belief is what is stolen from us in the midst of the carnage and destruction that appears ever present. But it is exactly what we have to hold on to when the odds appear to be overwhelming, and the demons of anger and disregard for humanity seem to have an almost supernatural power.
If we can continue to touch the place in ourselves that is always there, buried beneath the rubble of hurts, ideas, and misconceptions, our species will thrive. If not, we will continue on, causing unnecessary suffering wherever we go.
Today is a good day to remember. A good day to move from the spring of hope rather than the confusion of fear.