We can breathe again

We can breathe again,

brother of George gasps into the microphone

11 months after

9 horrific minutes left

1 body with breath no more

 

I shudder to think of where we would be today if “not quilty” bell had rung as usual.

How dangerously close we came to digging another grave, tombstone reading “Justice”.

 

Rejoice? No.

Relief? Yes.

 

Brown and black people

    lives

    bodies 

              still pinned to the ground

              oppression’s knee on their necks

              suffocating via more insidious violence (poverty, discrimination, disease)

              white supremacy in uniform

              offering us all lies (“it was addiction and poor health that killed him”) to distract

              from the crime being committed in front of our eyes, in the middle of the street.

Justice? No

A path toward healing? Maybe 

Click here to listen

As part of  this week's piece, a song from one of my creative inspirations and someone I have been honored to mentor during his training as a physician. You I Am (aka Dr. Umar Malik) composed "Breathless" last summer, and I have wanted to find a way to share this as part of this blog for the last nine months. Now is the time. May it offer meaning and healing where you need them both.

"Thank you for the people to wear their masks"

She chooses her words carefully.

“And thank you for the people to wear their masks.”

When we ask our 3-year old Sihasin to pray at the dinner table, she incorporates this into the prayer.

The pandemic, through the eyes and prayer of a little one.

As with any traumatic experience, it is easy to point fingers at this point in the pandemic as we look to lay blame for lives lost, life altered. Indeed, trauma often splits people, families, and communities. If we lack a language and desire to love one another, trauma leads to long-lasting division and turmoil.

Lacking love to guide us, we harm each other instead of healing each other. Our hands inflict hurt, instead of giving hugs.

To the detriment of us all.

I stand with Sihasin on this one. Actually, I want to learn from her. Dad as student, toddler as my teacher.

“And thank you for the people to wear their masks.”

We might start by acknowledging each other as companions in this COVID thing, understanding that we have gone through this pandemic together. Focus the lens on the deep bond of humanity that has been forged simply in enduring this together, forgetting the things that tend to divide us.

Imagine you set off for a 2-hour hike in the mountains with a group of friends. The plan suddenly dissolves as you find yourselves lost. What started as leisure now becomes frightening. The group works together, sharing ideas for getting back, hydration, and food. Finally, you make it back to the starting point eight hours later. In that moment of exhausted relief, your group now has a new, deep connection over enduring the journey together.

That hike, longer than anyone predicted, is our pandemic experience. Let us see each other, first and foremost, as fellow hikers who have endured a tough journey with us.

Having acknowledged one another, we can turn to healing. Like any traumatic experience, there are lots of wounds needing attention. Some are new wounds from the pandemic – fear of others, isolation, small businesses and low-wage workers trying to stay afloat. Some are societal wounds whose scab has been torn off during the pandemic – inequities in education, wealth, access to healthcare.

We must be committed to one another’s healing in these next months and years. The only other option is to allow the trauma of COVID to cause lasting injury to one another.

Sihasin, we hear ya. Loud and clear.

We have endured this together. Now we must heal together.

“And thank you for the people to wear their masks.”

Renewal, Rebirth, Regrowth

 Spring blossoms

              Boldly budding new life after winter’s long stay

                             Renewal

                             Rebirth

                             Regrowth

Sticks that look dead at first glance

Become branches once more, adorned with buds, leaves, flowers.

Some will produce succulent fruits and edible things.

All from sticks playing dead.

 

Nature is presenting us a gift in these first weeks of spring. Easter, Passover and the Iranian New Year – all around us there is celebration of renewal as we pass the spring equinox, day now longer than night for the next months.

What could this mean for you?

Think about the plants in your own yard – I bet you have a plant that in February you assumed had died off which now, only weeks later beams with life, bearing beautiful colors and fragrances.

What is an aspect of yourself that needs renewal, rebirth and regrowth? 

That is now the stick in the middle of winter. Maybe written off by others. Even worse, written off by you, yourself. Like the stick in February, it may be labeled dead when it is simply dormant.

On a bigger level, we have many things that have gone dormant in our pandemic world. Hugs and handshakes. The chance for our children to play with one another. Family get-togethers, community potlucks. All of it dormant, but not dead.

Like the trees and plants outside, this is a moment that offers renewal for all of us. Take in the energy of what nature is sharing with you and boldly grow new buds.

Where you have written yourself off as “too old” to have new growth, I would prescribe a walk amongst the 80-year old Cottonwoods along the Rio Grande as they turn green (yet) again. If “too busy” floats to the surface as an excuse to stay dormant, you might look at the mint or cilantro plants that seem to get only more excited about growth the “busier” they become. Or you may turn to the rose bushes who remind us that sometimes pruning old branches is needed to promote growth to new heights this spring.

Renewal, rebirth, and regrowth to each of you this spring.

Blossom into who and how you are meant to be!