Papa, Grant Me a Little More Light
I, like most of humanity, spent much of March and all April of 2020 in varying degrees of isolation. And we're still there as we enter May. Is there a country or region that has not been touched by the pandemic of the coronavirus?
For me, this has provided additional time to do all sorts of things. Yard work, home projects, reading, contemplation, etc. And candidly, the isolation hasn't been much more than an inconvenience. A frustration. Vexing, maybe. But “suffering?”— Impossible to justify that word.
I still go to the grocery store. And to my surprise, (contrary to the news I had been hearing) I have been able to find whatever items I need every time I go.
As I embark on my 6 mile run/walk everyday I relish the sunlight and the fresh, Spring air that carries in its breeze the scent and sounds of renewed life. The world reflects no hints of a global pandemic. It looks altogether the same as it always has—beautiful.
I've even had the opportunity to work a bit. (I am, by vocation, a nature photographer) I am aware that “Mr. COVID-19” may have stolen a large percentage of my income for the next year or two, but I can’t - and won’t - worry about that. How do you hold a piece of genetic material responsible? As my friend Paul is fond of saying, "I could future trip"; yet what does that accomplish other than to steal my wonder and awe of the sacred presence I am in now and replace it with an ever increasing amount of dread and stress?
All this to say, I recognize my fortune. And I am deeply, deeply grateful.
But as I have been burning up what little brain cells I have remaining during this unexpected reduction of activity and simplifying of my schedule, I have realized that my entire life perspective comes not just from being fortunate, but from a place of privilege.
Now, in the past, whenever I heard that word "privilege" it triggered a major defense mechanism in me because it was typically used to flog me into a guilt induced meltdown. Consequently, I tended to not give it the thought it deserved.
I am not attempting to do that. I'm not - I swear.
However, I have discovered something dark in this, ugly even. My privileged perspective has been the warden of an entire system of thought that imprisoned me, preventing me from living into the truth of my being. All the while sucking the compassion from my soul - often paralyzing me from the good, true, and beautiful.
And I perceive this as “not good” because I want to be a person whose life makes a difference on this planet, even if this is only to a small group of people I call family and friends. I want to be free of the warden.
From what I can tell, it is compassion that moves people to live truer, nobler.
Unlike narcissism or selfishness, which is an existence centered on self, compassion for others is actually me being true to myself. Empathy that endeavors to see from another's perspective produces a solidarity with the rest of the human race. Categories are erased and favoritism and prejudice begin to evaporate in the warmth and beauty of love received and given by a person living out of the image of their Creator.
The truth is, there is one human nature, one human journey and we are all a part of it. And if I only ever see life from a privileged perspective, I will never really grasp the fulness of the aforementioned statement.
But let's try and explore this a bit . . .
Beside the millions who have fallen sick; the thousands who have died; the starving, homeless, jobless multitudes and the inevitable economic ripples that are just beginning to gather momentum that will most likely swell into a devastating global tsunami of poverty and loss . . .
Beside ALL that—look with me a bit more closely, a bit more personally.
Consider those who are trying to just survive:
The child who can't escape abuse because they are quarantined with their tormentor.
The person infected with the virus facing their fear of death alone.
The elderly, falling victim to any type of illness or injury without the support of his or her family holding their hand, wiping the sweat from their brow, strengthening them with their presence.
The relatives and friends that had no closure with their loved ones in the time of their passing through death's veil. No touch. No last, long gaze into the others eyes. No funeral. Just absence.
The working family who wrestle hourly with the stress, anxiety, and fear of the previously unthinkable threat of homelessness.
This list could roll on like toilet paper tossed from the top of the Sears Tower in Chicago. But that’s not necessary, is it? I think the point is clear: when I look at my circumstances in light of what's actually happening to millions and millions of people around the world, it is obvious that my perspective of the challenges this pandemic brings are often birthed out of privilege. But it doesn’t have to be.
Let the clarity of the light move you to compassion, not guilt.
Compassion in you is a creative genius. It will move you to find ways to be there for others. Donate blood. Make a meal. Mow a lawn.
No agenda - Just one human on the journey we all share trying to help those who are presently suffering. One person learning to be compassionate, learning to live out of the truth of his or her being—discovering what it means to share in the Divine Life.