Day Four: Cross Pollination

A Daughter's Thoughts:
An acidic waterfall has coursed through my body since last Wednesday, when my mother told me that she was leaving for Haiti. The sound of blood pumping through my ears keeps me up each night and kinetic bursts of energy are keeping my apartment more clean than ever. A lot of labels could define this feeling, but these symptoms are convincing me of one thing-- I am alive. I am alive and I am in a situation in which I can choose how I act, reach out, touch others, and impact lives. That choice is in and of itself the definition of humanity, but there is one choice that sets me apart from most people in this world. I can choose how and when I want to act, reach out, touch others and impact lives. This is my privilege. Circumstances of privilege make the concept elusive and many people who share similar values, economic status, and experiences consider privilege to be a social norm or a god-given right. Donating to Goodwill, adopting a mangy mutt, volunteering and recycling are acts of graciousness...but do not diminish my privilege in our global community. Privilege is the foggy glass that separates me from truly connecting with humanity with no strings attached and I often find glimpses through clean windows without it to be blinding and caustic. For me, privilege is my security blanket as well as the thorn in my side that continually distracts me from life's full bounty.

My mom abandoned privilege this week. She knew what had to be done and she did it immediately. She left her family, her grandchild, she reached out to colleagues for help (she's not a person who typically asks for help), she was unable to connect with many of her favorite people before disappearing into a foreign place, she ignored the fact that she would enter a land of temperature extremes (which is difficult to ignore, since her internal thermostat continually reads 400 degrees Fahrenheit), and she did so despite the fact that it might be an uncomfortable experience on a myriad of levels. The only belongings that were truly hers to bring were nursing scrubs and conviction that each person on this earth deserves recognition, access to health care, food and water, dignified support and love in dire times of need. She is currently looking through a lens of life that is not smudged with sale advertisements, diet pills, drama, CNN anchors, or options for leisure time (aka: privilege). She is participating in Real Life, touching people whose hurt, anger, fear, and human needs run so deeply that she has no space or time to judge them or anyone else. She explicitly told me to keep people in the loop of her experience, but under no exceptions was I to paint a heroic picture. And, I won't. She is not a hero. She is a human capable and driven to live with a clear vision of the world, no matter what type of glare or discomfort this brings. She is willing to try and is not held back by the possibility of failure. Failure is only a concept of the privileged.

I keep hearing people say that they wish they were in Haiti with my mom. The truth is, we all are. Those who touch my mom's life have pollinated the flower of her life with strength, bravery, and laughter, and she has done the same for us. She left for Haiti because her family pushed their comfort with her close proximity to the margins to make space for her to touch people on the margins of this global community. For that, we have packed away some privilege and wiped a smudge off of our cloudy windshields. Her friends have given their hearts, prayers, belongings, and financial support without question and with the knowledge that there will be no souvenirs, postcards or individual recognition. Their voices are whispering soothing remarks and funny jokes into her ears in the middle of the night. Her friends are connecting with one another and with new people, expanding communities of support and recognizing the ways in which even the privileged impact lives regularly. Mom's colleagues are in Haiti with her each time they triage and support at home, and each time they work a shift that they thought was time to spend with their families. Resonance is undoubtedly the breeze that relieves Mom just when she thinks it is just too hot. K.B. refers to the recognition of other people's needs and the response to support those needs cross-pollination. I am taking her actions and idea and trying to share it, as it names the phenomena that all readers of this blog are experiencing. In one way or another, those of us who maintain privilege and have supported one representative (or more) in visiting Haiti are carrying the essence of life from our own spirit to another and supporting life's fragility through a clear lens of Real Life.