Love and War

Today has been one of those strange days of random, unrelated encounters that have all resulted in some sort of unsolicited affirmation.

 

As I rode to work this morning, a little disoriented from the recent lack of sleep and grieving process, I must admit that I was questioning the legitimacy of investing in humanity. As I exited the freeway, I came to an intersection where there was only one other car with a woman at the wheel who was staring out the window with a distant gaze as if waiting for the light to change, but yet not really waiting for anything at all. It was as though she had simply found herself there and she was a million miles away in thought.

 

She looked weathered, probably more in spirit than in body but her body wasn't too far behind. As the light turned she proceeded through the intersection, moving along in her day, willing herself toward some unknown destination. A few seconds later, we approached another stop light.  She looked in her rear-view mirror and let out a polite smile as we made eye contact. I returned the gesture with a polite nod.

 

There was no traffic this morning. Only her and I sitting at a stoplight on an empty street in one of the most downtrodden and dangerous areas of town; an area where on any given day another youth falls victim to senseless violence.  This area is a prison of hopelessness, violence, and despair. It's the kind of area that you read about in the newspapers.

 

As the light turned green and she pulled away, oblivious to her surroundings,  I thought about the many faces of the human condition that I have come in contact with. I thought about my contributions to the world, my beliefs, my capacity and potential. I thought about how much love and passion I have poured into trying to slowly and modestly make the world a better place. I never feel like it's enough.

 

Every time I feel like I can't possibly give anymore, care anymore, or love anymore I am reminded that there is a big world out there filled with people who are hurting, lost, angry, and alone. People who have surrendered all hope that the condition will improve; and instead resigned themselves to lives of modest success, constant struggle, and loneliness. Many of these people have been broken down by toxic relationships and failures.

 

As I watched her drive on, her eyes in the mirror looking at the road ahead, I thought to myself: how do I reconcile the magnitude of anguish I've encountered in my life? How do I find a reason to defend anything, much less advocate for a race (human) that seems hell-bent on consuming itself and its planet? And then I remembered a conversation with my friend, just recently where he offered a simple bit of advice: "Enjoy the most human act there is..." Mockingly I retorted with: "War?"  He corrected me, "Dance." In spite of a few additional arguments I made, somewhere deep inside I knew he was right. Even in the throes of my most agonizing pain, there is still something there that compels me to move forward.  To keep going, to give more, love more... even in this world that is so hell-bent on self-destruction.  Even to this race of humans that have no idea of the weight of their actions and interactions with each other. It's what I do.  It's really all I know and sometimes I fall victim to becoming consumed by the natural losses that ensue.

 

Life is beautiful, but life is also war; it's a war that we wage every day unknowingly against ourselves. The only way to win that war is by fighting back with love; even when you feel like there is nothing left... even when you feel like you're the last man standing.  Some people choose to fight, and others become casualties and spend their lives as prisoners; we owe it to ourselves to stay on our feet and to defend even the weakest of our brethren. The people who are often the most damaging to us, are the ones most in need of real, honest, love.  My hope is that they find it... that we all find it somewhere in the world. Gods know I'm not perfect... but I'm still in it... for whatever that's worth.

 

We exist... all of us.  We exist and are compelled even in the darkest of circumstances because beneath it all there is some spark of hope; some fundamental will to see it through to actualize what we are capable of and to dance... freely and without reservation.

Life...

I was recently reading this article that said that less and less women are opting to have kids.  The article pointed out that for most lower-upper middle class wage earners, the cost of having children exceeds the scope of their resources as more and more insurances are starting to decline coverage for child-birth and related medical services.  Meanwhile, in the lower end of the socioeconomic bracket, access to this coverage is readily available and, for the most part inclusive in their government funded healthcare.

I got to thinking about myself as a woman who has the means (albeit barely) to offset this reproductive trend.  More importantly, I can offset the social and economic strain of financially irresponsible reproductive decisions if I just adopted; taking a perfectly good child out of a broken and corrupted system and giving them the love, support, and opportunity to break a cycle and become a beautiful human and a dignified person. It has always been my belief that if I had children, I would adopt.

But who would I choose to be the father?  HOW, as a woman and maternal figure would I choose the father of my child? I mean, after all, we aren't talking about motorcycles, we are talking about tiny humans... little existential time bombs that if not wired properly, could have a catastrophic outcome once they achieve their true action potential.

What it boils down to is that of which I see in my closest friends; unconditional love, commitment, and  in never knowingly leading another person astray; from their autonomy, from their potential, and from their capacity to choose... for themselves given the proper amount of information.  The Father would be someone who is strong and wise enough to look beyond even his own identity and residual aspirations, failures, and accomplishments to see forth the potential in a tiny person who is yet, un-damaged, un-provoked, and not yet corrupted. The father would be someone who could be free to lead by example and engage in consequence; a person who realizes the significance of his influence and chooses not to taint or corrupt his own influence.

Should we strive for this? Should we strive to provide and/or contribute the best of what we have to offer?  And why is it that it seems that people who share these values are so few and far between? Should we simply revoke ourselves of the responsibility and say, like our parents did, "They will figure it out for themselves."  One of the most awesome things I hear my friend say to her young sons is "You choose."  Those words have a way of resonating to the very core of the human spirit.  We are free, and we are free to choose, and we ought to honor that by choosing in the best interests of that which is beyond us and possibly more capable than us.