Humbling Thoughts

I am humbled by those who care unconditionally. It is a genuine gift when humans do so. Unfortunately I believe it may be against our nature. Animals do it seemingly without thought. Babies do too, and sometimes children. But animals, babies, and children soon learn from adult humans that caring is dangerous. So I am grateful for the friends, the adult humans, who have cared for me in big and/or little ways. I hope I will reciprocate always. I certainly will try.

But I am thinking of the Gulf Coast and all those humans who are in danger. Some have given up on humankind and therefore on themselves. As a result, their actions are anything but helpful. Some are taking it out on themselves. Others are taking it out on others. If this situation shows anything, it shows that "Lord of the Flies" continues to be a valid statement about humankind. I am ashamed of us. I am also upset when the rest of us sit in judgment of what is happening there right now. It is hard not to. Many of us are complaining about the slow governmental response to the crisis, but who among us are actually doing anything to directly help? Lip service. Shame on us.

I am back in the city. I am at work with a few good friends there. I am glad to be here. I am sad to be here. I miss up north. The summer was special. It was hard for me not to work. I was a kid when I last had a summer off with no work. I did it for myself, to make each moment count. And I pushed away the guilt trip and did enjoy every moment. It began and ended with my inner circle of friends, a circle that widened to include new members. Kayaking the ocean off the Maine coast, going to islands like Goat Island and Woods Island, was humbling. Not only did I feel the power of nature big time, the unrelenting beauty, but I felt the whisperings of history...the lighthouses built in the beginning of the 1800's, the shipwrecks filled with wonderings of those who were lost and where, the pieces of metal, the rocks, the now porous bricks that have come from somewhere sometime ago, the feeling of my back against an ancient lighthouse feeling the ghosts that have passed that way. I felt small, I felt fortunate, I felt a part of something greater than I.

When Katrina was tormenting the Gulf Coast, I was sitting in my chemo. chair once again, feeling the toxins entering a body, a body that has felt so alive this summer. And I feel humbled that I am alive and fortunate to be where I have been and where I am now.But my little drama is so tiny when I think about the enormity of what is occuring no so very far away. And once more, I am humbled and cannot even pretend I understand why things happen as they do.