Saturday, November 23, 2013
Day Twenty-Three
Singing and dancing in the rain is not just reserved for happy-ending, classic musicals. It happens. And it matters.
I had a friend who, years ago, lived and worked with a group of indigenous people in Central America. Their lives were difficult, and their suffering was often caused by the cruelty of forces and systems arrayed against them. They were regularly subjected to neglect, harassment and violence. They marshaled as many resources as they could to stand against these forces, yet often they were overwhelmed.
One night a massive storm swept through the village where they lived. In response, the people gathered in the roads of the town and began to dance and sing together, joyfully, gratefully. At first my friend, still somewhat new to this village, was stunned. He thought it was almost beyond belief that the people, with all of the indignities and difficulties they faced, could take time to celebrate in the middle of the mud, muck and mire.
But, then he began to perceive the situation with more depth. They weren't "in denial" about how tough life was. No way to avoid that fact. But in their joy in dancing and singing in the rain, they were asserting their freedom and their dignity. Gratitude didn't cancel everything else out. It also wasn't a momentary escape. Giving thanks with singing and dancing in the rain was a reminder of who they were beyond what the world did to them.
Where have you witnessed gratitude as a revolutionary act? A recommitment to life in the face of all that denies life?
--Ken
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I posted this in another gratitude blog I do, and I'm reposting it here because it's the first thing that came to mind when I read "gratitude as a revolutionary act...." Love this.
ReplyDeleteMy first client at my first job was a constantly dirty, constantly cold, constantly angry 8 year old boy. He was 52 lbs of scrap… physically and emotionally abused on a daily basis by his father. He did not speak much… but where he lacked words he made up for in destructive behavior. He was “diagnosed” with everything in the book, and prescribed a handful of medications, none of which he ever took (thank God). He was a “failure” in school, ignored at home (unless he was getting hit or screamed at), and had no friends, no hobbies… no one. I worked in a partial hospital program where he came every day after school and wrecked havoc on the center and it’s staff. But not me.
The first time I saw him, my heart literally melted. I met his mom, heard his story, and was totally taken in, on every level. I ended up doing home based therapy with him and his family (minus his father) as well as case management (which was really just me picking him up and letting him “be” for a few hours every week). I don’t think I helped anyone or anything at all, in fact, I am pretty sure I made it all worse for him. There’s so much to the story. I’d love to say that I touched a small place in his heart and gave him something… but there’s too much evidence to the contrary. God, I learned so much from him and from this experience.
What I can say is that I took some risks in nurturing him. Some of the risks were taken unknowingly. My beginner’s mind and heart were out in full force. I did not have any cynicism, any fear, any anger towards “the system” or humanity from this context.
When he was finally removed from his home and placed in foster care, a co-worker called me to let me know. I felt an immediate and painful break in my heart, knowing he was away from his home (for better or worse), and away from me. I ended up having the chance to see him one last time. Things at the foster home were not going well, but I had an “in” and was able to find him. He and I spent an afternoon on the porch of a abandoned house in one of the toughest neighborhoods in West Baltimore. We sat on that filthy step, no “safe” place to go, nothing to “do” to make things better. We sat in the early spring sunlight and watched the world go by in almost total silence. For hours. Nobody bothered us, time stood still… there was so much we were both learning in that silence, so much we both knew in that moment that we didn’t know even a few short weeks prior.
When I left him he cried and said “I love you, Ms. Elizabeth” and gave me a handwritten note that said the same. I told him I loved him too, crossing one of the bigger “no no” boundaries of being a therapist… but following my heart, and his. I still have that note, the memory of how he opened up to me, and the feelings I experienced as he taught me about how simple nurturance can change your whole perspective (as in my nurturance of HIM changed MY perspective!) As I tell this story, one I almost NEVER tell, I know in my heart that he gave me more than I gave him, but the thing I gave was my heart, my energy, my soul… completely… and that gave me joy.
I cannot recall one time I've witnessed this in person. Isn't that astounding? However, I AM aware that it happens and often. My granddaughter told me about the people of Ghana who are so happy most of the time and celebrate the simple gifts of life. I am often reminded of this as I enjoy what we consider basic living in this country.... warmth from the cold, incredible food and lots to read, etc. I am grateful for what I have. Also, increasing gratitude to the example of those who continue to find joy and meaning when confronted with adversities.
ReplyDeleteNot sure exactly why, but thinking about witnessing gratitude as a revolutionary act made me think of a co-worker whose daughter lost her battle with an eating disorder a few years ago. I have known and worked with individuals who struggle with body image and/or eating disorders, but this was my first experience with watching a parent of a child struggle with an eating disorder. It was a 10 year struggle, and I was amazed and often in awe of how this co-worker lived each day with hope, purpose...and gratitude in the face of the unknown. Even when her daughter died, this strength and gratitude emerged through the pain and the grief of losing her child. She continues to honor life in a way that seems extraordinary to me at times.
ReplyDeleteI am very touched by your story, ellebee. Your kindness and genuine concern for this desperately unhappy, angry, destructive boy was costly to both of you: ultimately you say your loving attempts to make things better may have made them worse for him and that your battle on his behalf was probably fruitless for him. But what you learned appears to have been valuable in your work which is often how we learn. How lovely that for a moment the child felt loved and could express his love. Wouldn't it be wonderful the Beatles song "All You Need Is Love" were true?
ReplyDeleteAmazing post.Thank you very much for this important post.Gratitude connects you with power and creativity.
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