a compendium of what we ache for…
by bam
some weeks feel like someone’s pulled the plug at the bottom of the bathtub and all the suds — and the baby, too — are shlurping down the drain. this was one of those weeks, when day after day some stumbling block or very steep incline got tossed on my trail through the woods.
i was just about giving up hope. and i realized i wasn’t alone. there was my friend whose kid is in rehab, and she got a middle-of-the-night call that he wanted to quit, was deadset on coming home. even if he had to hitchhike — and bottom out — to get there. from the far left coast. there was another friend whose kid was rushed to surgery with a failing kidney. there was, as always, the national news, which more days than not feels as if someone’s cranked the spigot to full toxic poison and left it to drip, drip, drip.
and there was my own personal trove of worry. packed in that box there’s one prayer in particular that i nearly gave up on. made me start to wonder if anyone was listening. do you ever wonder the same? start to think that maybe your line’s been cut, and the wires to heaven you’ve long depended on, they’ve been snipped and they’re dangling? all you hear is the buzz of a line gone dead?
some weeks i feel i’ve little to say here. think i’ve no right to take up your time or the oxygen in the room. that’s not uncommon among women who grew up like me, taught to be nice or be quiet. i plod on anyway, because i made a promise — to me and to you — that i’d be here on fridays, find something to say. maybe even one glimmering shard of hope to break through the murk.
it’s not often i turn to the world outside to find us all a bit of solace, of something like faith. or even of joy. but in the last 24 hours, the universe seems to be racing to our rescue. shimmering shards are suddenly falling, one after another, onto my path, our path.
turns out, it’s become something of a compendium of what i’ve been aching for: tales of resilience. words of breathtaking wonder.
some weeks, we need to lean on the ones all around us. this is one of those weeks.
here’s this, from the glorious folks at nike. once upon a time i thought nike built shoes. but now i know better. i know they build from the best of the human character. they remind us who we can be. they carry us across finish lines — the ones in our hearts, and the ones in the woods.
take a look. and a listen: witness the moment justin finds out he’s the first signed pro athlete with cerebral palsy.
and now, while you perhaps dry your tears (pass me the carton of kleenex), here’s a poem from one of the patron saints of the chair, our beloved blessed mary oliver:
were shrugged up
on the shore.
It was snowing
and the sea
was in disorder.
Then some sanderlings,
with beaks like wire,
flew in,
snowflakes on their backs,
in a row
behind the ducks —
whose backs were also
so close
they were all but touching,
they were all but under
so the wind, pretty much,
blew over them.
They stayed that way, motionless,
then the sanderlings,
each a handful of feathers,
shifted, and were blown away
which was still raging.
But, somehow,
they came back
like a feathered hedge,
let them
crouch there, and live.
told you this,
as I am telling you this,
would you believe it?
But this much I have learned —
if not enough else —
to live with my eyes open.
is a miracle.
This wasn’t a miracle.
Unless, of course, kindness —
some rare person has suggested —
is a miracle.
As surely it is.
told you this,
as I am telling you this,
would you believe it?
But this much I have learned —
if not enough else —
to live with my eyes open.
is a miracle.
This wasn’t a miracle.
Unless, of course, kindness —
some rare person has suggested —
is a miracle.
As surely it is.
My dearest, most tender
boy. To describe him … is to
try to name those unnameable colors
and why bother. It’s all love.
Nothing matters here but life.
Nothing is in my thoughts but life.
I sit feet from the ocean and am bathed in this lucky life.*
It’s a lovely video except that he’s not surrounded and held by his friends as he weeps. That feels lonely to me. Mary Oliver always has the right words. Kindness does feel like a miracle.
i thought the same…..about the not being surrounded. and the wails pierced my heart. and of course you zeroed in on that, because the hearts at the chair live in “surround” mode. which is why i love you…..xoxox
Any idea what age the runner & friends/teammates are? College? I fear the reason he wasn’t surrounded by friends as he sobbed might have a lot to do with the culture of men being stoic individuals…..stand alone, be alone, man up, etc. I do not believe in the value of such things- but cultural norms are hard to shake & I wonder if that might explain some of the hesitance? Not to excuse! Just maybe a possible explanation? I cried my eyes out- being a runner (if on a post baby marathon hiatus) I am a sucker for this type of thing. Thanks, as always, for sharing the goodness & light around us- even when it’s hard to come by.
he’s a junior in college, so that makes him about 20, 21, maybe. i found this little bit more about him to inspire even more:
“Gallegos used a walker as a toddler and pre-schooler, and did physical therapy in order to improve his gait, according to Running Magazine. He began competing in long-distance running in high school and caught the attention of Nike, then helped the company develop a shoe designed for runners with disabilities.”
he says he was a kid with his legs in braces who could barely put one foot in front of the other, and his dream of becoming a professional athlete, he says, was akin to climbing mt. everest. and he reached the summit. love so much that he helped Nike design a shoe for runners with disability. whew. xoxox
Incredible. Awe inspiring. So darn cool. The background makes the video all the more poignant! Thank you again for being a bright spot in my weeks.
Oh bam, so very beautiful … thank you.
(ps U of O is in Eugene, where I live!)
well, what a beautiful thing! i had no idea you were in eugene! sending big hug your northwest way……
What got me reaching for a kleenex was how truly joyful his teammates were to see this happen to their buddy! We are all ONE……..
amen….
p.s. i gotta say it just melts me to see corporate america leading with its heart. we all gotta step up to be our vv best selves. cuz the ones we’ve elected are, frankly, falling down on the job. i am 1000 percent behind every single soul who dares to live to be good — because it lifts us all…..
Thank you for this much-needed reminder that goodness still exists in the world… My heart aches for dear Robbie…
xoxox. sending big hug from my little corner of the world. xox
In the spirit of sharing small acts of kindness, just today in 02421, we were the beneficiaries of a beyond-good Samaritan’s handiwork. A lost wallet arrived safely in an envelope in our mailbox, sender anonymous. Contents (including $40 in cash) were in all intact. The wallet’s owner, buddy of your dear T, is so grateful and relieved, as is his mama. Way to go Nike! And way to go anonymous hero!
My heart also aches for your friend Robbie. Her words and actions are inspiring, and since you’ve shared them here, I’ll share them with my colleagues. The path to a cure is wrought with failure, but Robbie’s story is a reminder that there is no time to waste.
oh, dear kerren, you make me weep, you who toil every day to cure cancer. how many can say that? how many who do so do it with as giant a heart as yours? i for one know that if you could single-handedly wipe it off the planet, you would. what a marvel you just laid before all of us. you saw robbie’s words here, and you carry them back to the lab. talk about the power of happenstance.
i love your happy wallet story. love that it was returned with bills intact. there is goodness. sometimes it lands in our mailboxes. xoxoxoxo
sending love from 60091. xoxox
because she is so profoundly affecting me, and because her ripple deserves to grow wider and wider, i come back with more words from robbie, words i found just this morning, and knew i needed to bring here.
she writes:
“The other day the doctor acknowledged
that I am living on borrowed time.
Then I’ll borrow from the morning.
I wake up as early as I can
To make the day as long as possible.
O Morning, what can you bring me,
what can I bring to you? What kind of
offering can I make for the day to
give me the most joy, the most love
to others? How can I honor you and your
gorgeous light and all of your promises?”
***
God bless you beautiful robbie, may you be blanketed in light as you shine on for all of us….xoxox
✨✨✨✨✨
xoxox love that it moved you, too….
It is a hard, hard life…and all that Orphan Annie stuff. My week has been filled with many same moments of hard news, sad news, dismal world and national news. It all makes it sooooo easy to fall into fear mode, the devil’s playground. Like the weather this week, I have been on the roller coaster of hot to cold. Honestly, sleeveless to layered and where that darn winter jacket?!
Art saves me…words in ink and words in the air.
I saw “We’re Only Alive A Short Amount Of Time” at the Goodman yesterday afternoon. It is a one man, pretty autobiograpical show with David Cale. He told the story of growing up in a bleak industrial town in England through his child eyes and his mum, dad, and brother. It was a dark childhood, but his love of Liza Minelli and lovingly raising birds led him on. Between his words and the incredible music well… it just punched a hole in my cloudy week. Resilience is an amazing. Humans are amazing, despite what the news tells us. There is complete love in every word you write. Love, love, love…sees us all through to the very end. xxoo
i have wanted to see that play since the moment i heard the title. i think i first heard it mentioned in a radio ad, and nearly steered off the road, thinking, wait, did i hear that? a play at the goodman? indeed, indeed. i’ve always loved one person shows.
anyway, your words ring so true. “the devil’s playground,” getting tangled in the darkness. the miracles rise up from the fine-grained, unheralded, human-to-human….where we are wise to train our sights….
love you, beautiful.