It’s such a beautiful experience, moving through a crowd of gentle people, and then getting hooked on life, stretching out a hand and feeling the pulse of the Amazon, caressing the Andes and then making the leap from Tierra del Fuego to Cape Hope, gently cupping the Congo and pausing before merging into the thrum of Ethiopia. Stuck there, I reached across with the other hand and felt the rainforests of Southeast Asia, roamed over the Russian tundra, and then slowly squeezing inward around the pustule that is the Middle East, soaking it with the healing energy of life and love.
And later she said, hesitantly “It seems that it’s going to get worse.”
“I’m afraid that is what I see, too.”
With the air of one surrendering innocence, she hazarded “But it’s not going to affect people like us.”
I had to look away, trying to find a formulation that did not take air out of the joy she was sharing with me. “Well, in order to bring healing, we have to make a diagnosis. That means getting close enough to feel their pain.”
It’s the last hurrah of selfishness. It knows it, and so figures there’s nothing to lose.
As Matt Maher promises in “Hold Us Together”:
It’s waiting for you knocking at your door
In the moment of truth when your heart hits the floor
And you’re on your knees
And love will hold us together
Make us a shelter to weather the storm
And I’ll be my brother’s keeper
So the whole world will know that we’re not alone