A Heavy Heart

Tonight I received a full on over-exposure to America's underbelly. It seemed that everything wrong and beautiful about this country was wrapped up in a couple of hours of coffee shop talk. Maybe everything wrong and beautiful about me too. I was told once by a fortune teller in Korea that I was highly spiritual. That I pick up on many things. I didn't need him to tell me this. I have been this way all of my life. It was nice to know that an absolute stranger with a "gift" was able to see it...to confirm my own suspicions. That I have been living at odds with myself for a long time. But that is completely off the point. The point is that I got an overload tonight. My last night here in Delray Beach. Sitting in a coffee shop on the corner of Swinton and some numbered avenue, I saw reality unfold. Before me sat a beautiful man of great intelligence...unlimited potential. I saw him and felt drawn to him. Maybe now I realise that it is the saviour role that I am so used to playing that drew me to him. Before me sat a beautiful woman, my wise cousin in all of her brightness. I connected with her immediately after 30 years of never meeting. A connection born of realness only developed after hardships that we chose not to define our lives. A table of 5 people all having various conversations. I kept looking at my beautiful dark friend...wishing that he could see himself. He emanates self-hatred and it hurt me. More than his words jusifying the killing of millions of people by the Europeans, simply because the tribes of America already were at war...the Europeans were only stronger. Survival of the fittest. Not even his words touched my heart, just that his inability to see his own beauty made it impossible to see the beauty in others. I knew that I had to leave. That I was going to step into the saviour role and I didn't want to be there. He didn't want me there. I saw him become uncomfortable with me. Maybe he could see the concern...the hope...the battle. I don't know. My cousin opening my eyes to the fact that some white people are realizing that the American society was created to benefit them. That some are seeing it and are taking steps to change things. She understood when I spoke of the fact that we could sit in DaDa's and have this "debate" but if most black people lived the life that many of the recovering white people had lived, most of them would be in jail or dead...not sitting in some coffee shop discussing the war in Iraq and whether it is okay to help other countries in need.

Suddenly I understood the universiality of pain. Truly, no one has the corner on "Han". That deep, inexplicable pain that dances in the eyes of so many people. Whether it is the starving child in Africa for whom a vulture patiently waits for to die or the recovering heroine addict, who is soul starved, whose very life lies in his own hands...there is a pain there that digs into me. It is knowing that I cannot save either one. Yes, I could feed a starving child but to save a nation of starving children requires a change of heart in a nation of starving souls. Yes, I could befriend and love the recovering heroine addict, but ultimately it is a battle he must win alone.

There is a desire in me to take away the pain. To not watch him hurt but it is his pain...his hurt...that he must decide what to do with. I have had my own pains and hurts. No one came to save me. I had to ask God to show me how to save me. I am stronger because of it. He has the chance to become stronger too but it is his own choice...only he can make it.

I see my weakness. It is the fact that I do not believe that people can handle their struggles. I belittle them...condescend them. They would not be having the test if they could not handle it. That humanity will not continue to turn it's eyes away from the suffering of brothers, sisters, daugters, sons...I have to trust. I have to decide to live my life in such a way that it contributes to the slow change taking place. I have to believe that people are strong and can pull through.