Sharing reality

The days after a tragedy often brings the humanity right out of people. I noticed it during the weeks and months after 9/11, how soft spoken and kind we all were with each other, how thoughtful, how caring, how interested in other people’s reality we seemed to be. I’m witnessing and participating in this now, too, in my small slice of Colorado. How patient and considerate busy shopkeepers are on the phone after getting dozens of inquiries about donation drop off and how disproportionally grateful altruistic strangers are to distribute them for me, as if my actions of dropping off items that no one in my family has touched for years are somehow award-worthy in nature.

It’s ironic, no matter how much we “give back” in little or big ways during the “normal” periods of our lives sans tragedy, how relevant anything we contribute then becomes when we focus on what matters most during a tragedy. It’s not that it matters less when we take our eyes off the prize of humanity, it’s merely that we’ve let ourselves slip back into the status quo of normalcy. Over the next few weeks and months, and surely years, we’ll check Facebook less for updates on how we can help. We’ll get caught up in school and work activities. We’ll still think about those affected, maybe even check in on them from time to time, but they’ll receive far less help than they are now, when hopefully, they won’t need it as much.

I don’t blame us for this pattern. In many ways, it seems quite biological to show up heavily during an emergency and reduce that support as it is needed less. But, what usually falls by the wayside along with such urgent charity is its accompanying kindness. An additional tragedy is that our hearts close once again. During tragedy, we seem to be touched by the true vulnerability of what it is to be human so much so that it brings us close to people we barely know. It isn’t that we become more interested in other people’s reality during these times; instead, we share in their reality, even if it looks far from our own. I don’t know on the physical plane what it is like to experience my house burning down or losing my precious furry companions in the process, but something within my human heart shares in this universal heartache just the same. This is the sharing that keeps us deeply connected, that keeps our hearts open to the kind of kindness that doesn’t cease when physical support is no longer needed and when the urgency of our own lives take priority once again. So, as the dust settles, literally this go around, my hope is that we don’t stop sharing the experience of our hearts with one another; just one of many ways to bridge the gap of humanity that we so often don’t realize that we’re self-creating.