The past few days have been something.
Equal parts absurd, disturbing, exhausting.
It’s a time chocked-full of uncertainty and competing emotions.
Should I be angry?
Should I lead by example?
Do I even have a say in this?
So many questions are being batted around, bouncing off my mental walls like a pinball game.
And every now and then, one hits me with a ding, ding, ding!
I didn’t know anyone in the Boston marathon.
No one I know lives in West, Texas.
I haven’t lost a family member to gun violence.
Our home wasn’t recently destroyed by a ruptured oil line or an earthquake.
Our friends and family aren’t under constant threat of drone strikes.
Worldwide, humanity is becoming more enmeshed, yet increasingly fractured. We’re constantly colliding ideologically–sometimes with disastrous, heart-wrenching results that further obliterate the tenuous ties many are making through daily strides for equity and inclusion.
Even for an atheist like me, keeping faith in the greater good is crucial to pushing forward– to beginning anew, to inspiring change.
But it’s hard.
And takes resolve.
Still, it’s worth it. Because for every bomb, every explosion, every disaster, the seeds of a more caring humanity germinate within us all.
We all have the potential to perform great acts of kindness, to extend a hand into the surrounding darkness and feel someone clasp onto it mightily–and not just in times of great need.
Life-changing events force retrospective glances; they make me take stock of the little ways I’ve become the person I see reflected in the mirror–the physical and emotional scars, the maturity and compassion I possess.
For some, times like these demand a religion-laden explanation.
For me, I celebrate what is right in the world–the little victories–while being ever cognizant of why they must be celebrated.
Because for every horrible person, each horrendous act of violence, each of us will go on.
We will find a way to put one foot in front of the other.
And help others re-learn how to walk.