I am writing this post in response to a very good friend at work. This friend and I have been exchanging poetry and discussing heady topics like oppression, equal rights, belief, and other philosophically vague constructs. Anyway, we were discussing the differences between men and women, and equal rights this afternoon. My friend was arguing that it was better to be a man, and I was arguing that being a man was not as wonderful as it may seem and that there were tremendous advantages to being a woman. Then she hit me with the question of the day: Why do I, as a white, middle-class, male (the privileged class), even care about the rights of women, people with disabilities, and other oppressed groups?
This is a fair question, and one that is not asked enough…of anyone. Why don't we, as a society, care more about the rights and status of others? Although I cannot answer for society (although I will freely speculate and theorize in a later post), I can answer for myself. Of course, the answer is not simple. It requires some elaboration on my personal beliefs and some of my history, but I'll try to keep it as simple as possible. So, without further ado, this is why I care:
I care about people and their rights for several reasons, but before I jump into those reasons I need to briefly touch on one aspect of the meaning of life that is central to why I care. In short, I can't believe something just for the sake of believing. I have to feel that what I believe is right and represents who I am. Truth and belief are meaningless unless they are part of the fabric of your soul/core/essence and then become a part of your everyday life. Some people end up only believing in themselves; others believe in others; others believe in God; still others believe nothing, this final group of people generally are quite boring and usually end up in bed all day or end up on the fringes of society. Without meaning or conviction there is no reason to engage in any pursuit. Am I wrong?
In my case, I have spent years trying to identify what I truly believe in my core. I have many beliefs that are contrary with the majority of society, and I have many beliefs that are unpopular and, some would say, idealistic. But they motivate me and are something that I am unwilling to compromise because I have identified them as key elements of my personal makeup or “center” (“center” is a term that I will return to again later in this explanation). For example, I do not see any purpose in selfishness or in living just for oneself. This is alienation at its worst and requires that you find some material means to identify your level of self-worth. People who live solely for themselves are, in my experience, very commercial, hedonistic, and selfish individuals who live money-centric lives. What these people overlook is the fact that money dies with the person. Sure it can be passed from generation to generation, but it is not the true measure of an individual. Individuals who live for others are able to look outside of themselves and see that all of the actions of humanity are intertwined.
We are a web of society and that which we do for others, we also do for ourselves. There is a great quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson that says: “It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life, that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.” By reaching out and assisting others, especially others who are in “lesser” positions in society, we are improving society for ourselves. I think that this principle is also well illustrated in the words of Martin Niemoller, a Lutheran minister in Germany during World War 2. Pastor Niemoller said: “In Germany they came first for the Communists and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist. Then they came for the Jews and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me - and by that time no one was left to speak up.” As Albert Einstein observed towards the end of his life: “The illusion that we are separate from one another is an optical delusion of our consciousness.”
Now, if we do not live for ourselves and if we do not live for money, what is the measure of out impact? Well, to a great extent, we have to have a tremendous amount of faith in the concept that we are making a difference, even if we are unable to see that difference in our lifetime(s). One of my favorite metaphors is that of “cathedral building”, frequently used by Bill Shore, the founder of Share Our Strength. Bill points out that the cathedrals in Europe were edifices that required hundreds of years to build. Cathedrals began with a vision by the architects and craftsmen of a particular generation and they laid the foundations, but the final edifice was not completed until well after the original architects and craftsmen were dead. Frequently, in the building process, the design would change and be added on to; but that didn't stop the workmen who labored daily to build the structure. Generation after generation of many families labored to build the great cathedrals of Europe and almost all of the workmen never lived to see the final edifice. Now, did this stop them from working? No. They labored daily to build these magnificent structures because they had faith that they were working on something that would be a permanent monument to their God, and to their efforts and sacrifice. The cathedral builders were engaged in a work that ensured their immortality…
This is the meaning of immortality in my estimation: the ability to leave a lasting legacy in those whom you have personally had a relationship with and the ability to impact the way they live their lives. This is something that money cannot buy or take away. This is, for me, the meaning of life: to create a lasting legacy in those whom we love and serve–for me life is worthless if I cannot be of some service to others or cannot get involved in a cause that will have a clear, positive impact on the lives of others. In other words, I am building a personal cathedral by choosing to help and serve those who are less fortunate, have fewer opportunities, or who are oppressed.
Perhaps it is a low self-esteem issue on my part, but I cannot and would not live just for my own gratification; my life is nothing if I cannot find a way to help others. I made this decision over ten years ago, I know exactly when and where I made this decision too. I was standing on a street corner in the city of Banchyau, Taiwan. I was watching the hundreds of motor scooters and cars going by with people who were fixated solely upon the acquisition of money. These were people who lived in relatively well-to-do neighborhoods and neglected their families, their health, their beliefs, and everything else in the pursuit of more money. They wasted their lives away to make more money and as a result could measure the impact of their lives in the number of paychecks they received and the number of “products” their factory or plant manufactured in a day. I knew many of these people. They were not happy and they were not fulfilled. They all felt that they were living a life that wasn't balanced and that had little or no meaning. I saw how this self-absorbed life led to conflict, injustice, and unhappiness and I swore to myself while standing on that street corner in Banchyau that I would never live my life solely in the mindless pursuit of monetary gain. I swore that I would find a way to make a direct impact on the lives of those I came into contact with. It was a critical turning point when I finally realized that my life meant nothing if I couldn't find a way to put my talents to use for the betterment of others who were less fortunate or less able. Now this is not to imply that I have a Messiah Complex, but I define my life by others. I realize that I am nothing in and of myself, and that I can only define my being by serving others. In the words of the psychologist Carl Jung: “It is only our deeds that reveal who we are.”
To further complicate this disorganized entry, I want to include some key concepts from one of my personal heroes, Ernesto “Che” Guevara. Many people don't realize that “Che” came from a relatively well-to-do background and was an M.D. before joining with Castro to lead the Cuban Revolution. I admire Che because he was able to envision a purpose that was larger than himself and saw that he could make an impact on the injustice that pervades society. He sacrificed, and eventually lost his life, fighting for something that he passionately believed would make the world better and would lead to the eradication of injustice and oppression. Che, like myself, was motivated by a love of humanity and a love of freedom. Che said in a speech following the Cuban Revolution: “Let me say, at the risk of appearing ridiculous, that the true revolutionary is guided by strong feelings of love….and, above all, always be capable of feeling any injustice committed against anyone anywhere in the world.. The outcome of today's struggles does not matter. It does not matter in the final count that one or two movements were temporarily defeated because what is definite is the decision to struggle which matures every day, the consciousness of the need for revolutionary change, and the certainty that it is possible.”
Now, to close out this entry and to further explain the reason why I care, I want to briefly return to the idea of a “center”. A “center” is a key defining event, emotion, person, or anything else that you cling to that gives you motivation and purpose. Working within the human services, we frequently come into contact with difficult and depressing circumstances that require tremendous strength to face. I believe that the reason many people in the human services burn out is because they do not have a “center” to fall back on. In times of difficulty I have a “center” I always fall back on. Following this entry I have included a poem I originally wrote over ten years ago that describes my “center”. This poem describes a very emotional event that occurred while I was in Taiwan. This poem has gone through many revisions and has been trimmed from 5 pages to 1.5 over the years. This is the final version that I arrived at three years ago. Every time I get discouraged or wonder what I am doing I read this and it reminds me of why I do what I do. This is what I call my “center”. Everyone needs one, or else life has little meaning. A center provides an anchor point from which we can create a context for our lives… This poem is a literary representation of my “center”. It has saved me multiple times.
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I
A tight dark room with a pad on the floor
The cold, wet air slides under the locked door.
Thin bars of light pierce through the slot
Where scraps of food and water are slid in.
The floor is hard, and usually wet
With urine and shit, like an untrained pet.
In the dull, corner shadows it sits lopsided with its back
Twisted on thinly wrenched legs, too weak to walk.
II
It is all it knows, if it is something worth knowing
It is not sure what it is, but parts of it look like the fingers
That bring its food. But it can’t go look to find outside
Itself attached with links of steel to the mildewed bedroom wall.
III
Its cry- shrill and penetrating- a dying person
Like a rabbit in a snare that shrieks like an injured baby.
It doesn’t know tears or sadness or joy
Just pain and hunger, or pain then nothing.
And always it is dark.
And always it is alone in the dark.
Meaning is meaningless in this world;
In the room.
The small dark room,
With concrete floors
With the single heavy door.
Being locked in this small world
Unable to escape
Is not so bad.
Living without the fear of death
Because it has not lived.
This it cannot comprehend alone.
That it first frightens, then sickens
And disgusts to anger towards its own-
That festers like its seeping sores
Where it’s restraints wrap around
Skeletal wrists.
IV
Then looking in I saw it—
Shining head
Glistening in moonlight.
Motionless.
Larger than the malformed
Shriveled body
It was attached to.
So large
It hung down
Bowed between atrophied knees
In reverence for its situation.
Now looking out—I still see it— a silent face,
Reaching into me with a child’s wide eyes;
Offering salvation in empty hands
Claw-fingered, clenched shut.
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