I was looking for a thread where I could post this and Rumi popped up!
I'm a last-minute substitute for covenant group leader tonight and the group's been flagging. Tired old women, and some have retreated to what-I-did and have said little in a good while about what-I-think or how-I-feel.
Coincidentally, my YouTube breakfast included an episode from an Australian show called Insight that I've really enjoyed. It's all about human experiences and how they change people. This episode was A Stranger Saved My Life and what hit me is how un-cynical this program always is. Just direct and simple questions: what happened to you, how has it changed you, how did you feel about it, etc. So I wrote up this for the group:
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Our topic for tonight is HUMANITY, small-scale or large. You can answer one, or any or all if we have time:
1) Do you recall any moment in your life when kindness from a stranger or friend brought you a love of humanity? It may be a moment you remember vividly from childhood, or any time.
2) Do you remember a time when you showed humanity to a stranger, and this moment stayed with you? What happened?
3) In a general sense, do you ever contemplate all of humanity in a way that uplifts you or soothes your heart? What are those thoughts like for you?
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I've always had a vivid memory of something that happened when I was about eight or nine. I really was affection starved. My Dad was kind but also so overworked as a young prof with a whole dept. on his shoulders after his colleague suddenly died, that he didn't have a lot of time. He was always sweet and gentle, but he wasn't greatly demonstrative. I adored him but spent most of my time with my mother who, as y'all have heard, was afflicted by her childhood and showed a sort of hollowness, no emotional connection, and no spontaneous affection. I guess the best way to put it is that I have no memories of tenderness in her eyes, and no spontaneous hugs from her, ever. Her interactions with me weren't intentionally cold and weren't abusive, but there was just a big absence of connection.
When I spent time with other families, I'd often see mothers being warm and affectionate to their kids, or calling them loving nicknames, etc. It wasn't conscious, but I was yearning for that.
So, for the first time I'm allowed to go away to sleepaway camp. We had a funny little exercise at first where we introduced ourselves, and I told everyone, "My name is Honey." Most of the kids ignored that (and me, being the weirdo with all this "over" sensitivity). As did the counselors. Except for one young man. He saw me and recognized there was pain behind this awkward announcement. So every day, he'd look at me at some point and just quietly use my chosen name. I remember it so vividly, and I think that was his humanity toward a sad little girl.
I never forgot that counselor and the memory fills me with warmth and gratitude.
hugs
Hops
