If it takes a village...

I generally stay away from political discussions, and feel that they're not often productive in the sense of actually moving anything important forward. But there comes a time when aversion to getting muddy amounts to hiding one's head in the sand, and that I will not do.

It's taken me a while to gather my thoughts in the aftermath of the Saturday shooting in Arizona that claimed six lives and wounded over a dozen others, including the probable target, Rep. Gabrielle Giffords. I don't want to spend too much space relating my feelings about this utterly senseless violence. I'm too sad to be angry and too deeply concerned about the causes and implications to just let it go and be content with sending up prayers and sending out positive healing energy to all who are hurting, grieving, questioning right now.

Why do these things happen? Who is responsible? The easy answers, the ones that allow us to sleep at all at night, come quickly:

It happens because so-and-so is a sick, psychopathic individual with no morality.

It's the shooter's fault and his alone; he made the decision to pull the trigger.

He was just waiting for an opportunity...no matter what anyone did, this dude was gonna find a way to kill someone. It couldn't have been foreseen.

Perhaps. But what brings an individual to that point in the first place? Is anyone born evil? Have you ever looked into the eyes of an infant and thought, This one's a bad apple; you can see it already. Better warn his parents! ?

I haven't.

I'm not going to play the blame game, per se. In fact, I think our haste in finding a scapegoat and mercilessly directing our negativity toward that person or thing is part of the underlying problem. To Jared Loughner, Rep. Giffords was his scapegoat, the person he'd decided was responsible for the problems he couldn't overlook.

Blame isn't productive. It sometimes costs lives.

However, I would like to encourage everyone to consider our own accountability -- to every other person out there. Society is what we make it, and our actions today shape the world we live in today, not just at some airy future point of fruition. The people who live in our society are affected by it, by our words and actions. And we get so desensitized to so many things over time that we aren't even consciously aware of the things we do that add nothing good.

Think about it: In a given day, how much of what you say to people, write online, text, etc. is positive? I'm willing to bet that it's significantly less than 50%, if we're honest with ourselves. If negativity rules our communications, it's no wonder then that society is bogged down with toxic news and spiteful interactions and the kinds of things that don't make anyone feel calmer, safer, happier, or more interested in truly listening to one another.

I don't have easy answers. Maybe I don't have any of them. But it seems to me that if we take care to add more of what is bright and positive and trim back our negative contributions, maybe we'd benefit in ways we can't even fathom right now.

I'm not suggesting that we stop saying what is honest and sometimes painfully necessary; open dialogue is a beautiful thing. What I am doing is questioning the necessity of saying some of what regularly makes its way into our conversations, Facebook posts, and headlines. Think about how often words like stupid, hate, fat, crazy, and others find voice, and how seldom complimentary things we think actually find their way to the party they reference. Negativity breeds negativity; likewise, the more positive energy and thought we put out, the more we're likely to encounter in our own direction (and the easier it becomes to focus on expressing the good that's in our hearts and minds instead of just passing by with it unspoken).

My grandmother has this on her refrigerator door:

When considering whether to say or repeat something, first consider:
Is it kind?
Is it true?
Is it necessary?
If not, let it remain unsaid!

I don't believe that everything we say has to be positive, but I do believe in weighing the merit of expression. If something is hurtful or inflammatory, then unless it's necessary for reasons other than hearing oneself speak (self-expression is a freedom that comes with enormous responsibility, or should!), it may better serve everyone involved to let it fall into the abyss between thought and action.

If the media would follow suit as well, who's to say how much nastiness could be quietly bled from society, from our daily exposure to up-to-the-minute stories about more than anyone could ever possibly need to know?

I'll do my part, because if it truly takes a village, then I want that village to be a beneficial place that fosters (to the fullest extent of its influence) the kind of mind and heart that would never conceive of doing anything as heinous as what happened in Arizona on Saturday.

A tribute to the candle-bearers

There is not enough darkness in all the world to put out the light of even one small candle. ~Robert Alden

That quote is one of my favorites, and it's been on my mind a lot today. There are these extraordinary people in this world who seem to be driven to hold candles out to light the way for others, even on the darkest nights. These are the people determined to make a difference, to matter, to do something in their lifetime that will leave the world better for their footprints having marked it.

They are hailed and hated, praised and pitied for their very natures, for wanting to hold candles in the darkness that seems to press in around us so heavily at times. I believe the people who try to snuff out those candles with spiteful words and hateful deeds as cold as a brisk winter wind, do so out of fear. Fear of change, fear of having to look at their own personal darkness, illuminated by the gentle flames around them. And envy...I think people get mean when they envy the courage of these solid candle-bearers.

What people seldom see is that sometimes, though they would never do it differently, and though the flame itself stays bright and true, the hands of the candle-bearers shake with cold and doubt. The winter wind howls incessantly, swirling all around them like spectral hands swiping at their light, sometimes chilling them to the heart/bone.

Yet these amazing people press onward, sharing their hearts, time, thoughts with others, lighting paths that once seemed nonexistent in the depths of night.

I don't know that I'm really supposed to be a candle-bearer. I'm not a great front man (woman) for a cause, though I am passionate about many. But I know I have a purpose in this world, and I think I may be getting closer to what it is.

What, then, could I possibly bring to the world if lighting it up isn't my gift?

Maybe...maybe I can bring the candle-bearers coats. Encouragement and love to shore them up and keep them warm, a bit of protection against the bitter chill of hatred and doubt that tries hard to envelop and stamp out all of this world's greatest lights, just as it always has tried (and generally ultimately failed!) to do.

I don't know that I have the personality to carry off sweeping changes for the better in this world. But I have an unyielding faith that people can and do accomplish that, and I gladly pledge one huge heart and a ready, steady, kind hand on the shoulder of those whose gifts lead them down that road.

To the candle-bearers out there...what you do for so many others...keep on keepin' on. And if the wind gets too cold, I'd be happy to bring you a coat. In honor of all of you:

"Don't give up
It's just the weight of the world
When your heart's heavy
I, I will lift it for you

Don't give up
Because you want to be heard
If silence keeps you
I, I will break it for you

Everybody wants to be understood
Well, I can hear you
Everybody wants to be loved
Don't give up
Because you are loved

Don't give up
It's just the hurt that you hide
When you're lost inside
I, I'll be there to find you

Don't give up
Because you want to burn bright
If darkness blinds you
I will shine to guide you..."
(Josh Groban)

Wearing philosophies, and starfish

Everything we wear, everything we choose for ourselves in life, makes a statement. You can find -- or custom-order -- t-shirts screaming just about anything in thick, bold colors. Political statements, tv show/brand loyalty, you name it, you can find it out there. The cut of a man's suit, our footwear selections, even our jewelry can all add levels to the picture we draw for the world of who we are.

On the inexpensive chain of my favorite necklace, a small blue starfish charm hangs, along with a simple hammered oval with the words "It matters to that one" in black. People often ask me what it means.

It's a philosophy. To understand, you would have to be familiar with the Starfish Story, paraphrased here (originally by Loren Eiseley):

A wise man used to rise early in the morning and walk along the beach to gather his thoughts. One morning, while he was strolling by the edge of the ocean, he noticed a far-off figure repeating some strange movements. A dancer, perhaps? he mused.

As he drew closer, he could see that the figure was that of a young man who kept bending down to pick something up. Over and over again, he threw what he found into the sea.

"Pray, friend," called the wise man, "What are you doing?"

"I'm throwing starfish back into the water," replied the young man. "The tide washed them ashore and if I don't throw them back, they'll die."

The wise man shook his head and said, "But there are miles and miles of beach, and tens of thousands of starfish! You cannot possibly save them all -- don't you see? What you do doesn't matter!"

The young man simply smiled, bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it with all his might into the water.

"It mattered to that one."

I wear a starfish to remind me that what I do matters. I cannot save every aching soul I come across, as much as I wish I could. But that doesn't mean that what I do isn't important. Every time we lend a shoulder or a hand, even if our efforts feel like so little in a hurting world, we should all remember: It matters to that one.