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Picture of rusty, brown pot-belly stove
At the physical therapy center last year, I sat on a table, getting TENS unit therapy for the pain in my legs.
There were several patients there that day, and most were pleasant enough, considering we were all in various levels of pain.
An older man named Steve was getting treatment for his neck on the table next to mine. “Women always let themselves go after marriage,” he said to his physical therapist. “They never put themselves together with hair and makeup. And the worst part is, they always gain weight.” He shook his head.
There was silence as the other patients and physical therapists around him — all women — processed what he’d just said. Lying on the table there, his own gut was what one would call “voluminous”. He had the girth of a pregnant woman carrying triplets. As he stood up, it occurred to me that he resembled a pot-belly stove: short, squat, and kind of rusty.
That insult to women hung in the air until finally, his physical therapist said something to the effect of, “Sometimes, we just can’t see ourselves as others do,” which I thought was just the right amount of diplomacy and wisdom. Nothing else needed to be said.
This time in history may be remembered for many negatives: the pandemic, divisions based on race and politics, and most notably, an alarming deficit of empathy.
Whatever negativity you encounter today, rise above the visceral instinct to “put someone in their place.” Remember, Comeuppance Coordinator is not an actual job, even though it’s a way of life for many on social media. Keep in mind that everyone is an amalgam of humanity and divinity. This mindset will help the world find its way back to grace again.
CALLEJA (DIARIO DE NAVARRA)
Abel Mutai, an athlete on the verge of winning a race, misjudged where the finish line was and stopped running too early. Another runner, Ivan Fernandez Anaya, could have run past Mutai and won the race; instead, he helped Mutai cross the finish line and came in second.
“He was the rightful winner. He created a gap that I couldn’t have closed.” said Fernandez Anaya. The photo of him helping Mutai across the finish line went viral, garnering praise from all over the world. When asked for a comment, however, his coach voiced his disappointment. “The gesture has made him a better person, but not a better athlete,” Martin Fiz told El Pais. “He has wasted an occasion. Winning always makes you more of an athlete. You have to go out to win.”
In another race, two Olympic runners collided, and, as the race went on, they helped each other carry on to the finish line. Neither runner won the official race, but later, both were given a special commendation for sportsmanship.
Some things are more important than a trophy. Maybe we should change the term, “human race” to “human family.” Life’s not a competition. Don’t listen to the naysayers, even if it’s your own coach. We’re all on the same team.
Growing up, Mama Spider taught her son about humans: “Don’t stare honey. I know that’s a face only a mother could love, but God has a purpose for all creatures. Now let’s get out of here before that monstrosity squashes us!”
That seems to be how some religious groups see each other: If you’re not just like us, you’re a threat. The other day, my Lyft driver asked me if I was a Christian. When he went on to say something pejorative about Muslims, I knew we didn’t share the same perspective.
In photography, “perspective” is a term for a visual effect that causes objects to appear smaller as their distance from the viewer increases. In life, if you haven’t gone through a particular experience, it may seem far away and foreign to you.
Your perspective can change based on your status in society and net worth as well. Asked about how young comedians can get their big break, Jerry Seinfeld said, “The good thing about comedy is that anyone who’s talented usually makes it.” It must be spirit-crushing for struggling comics out there to hear their comedy idol make such a statement when they haven’t found success yet.
The only way to keep your own karma clean is to assume there’s validity in the experience of others. So before you squash that spider — or another human being’s spirit — take a moment to adjust your lens. It might just broaden your perspective.
When someone says, “I owe you an apology,” have they really apologized? It seems to me that until they say the words, “I’m sorry,” it doesn’t count. Owing an apology is like saying, put it on my account!
“That show’s been running for seven seasons and I never miss it,” a commenter online said, and I had to mull that over. Does that mean they like the program? Or perhaps they don’t watch it, and frankly, they don’t miss it either?
“Hey, Ruth! Long time!” It was an old acquaintance I’d run into at the store. “You look exactly the same!” he said, to which I replied, “Thank you!” I assumed it was meant as a compliment, but was it? What if he’d actually meant, “You looked like forty miles of bad road twenty years ago, and dagnabbit, you look exactly the same today! My condolences!”
Maybe we’ll never know what other people are thinking. The best we can do is to be truthful yet tactful, choosing our words carefully. With any luck, we’ll be able to make our point in a kind and thoughtful way. In the words of Dr. Seuss, “Step with care and great tact, and remember that life’s a great balancing act.”
After a heart attack years ago, John Watson had trouble sleeping and fell into a deep depression. His therapist suggested that he listen to relaxing music to help him fall asleep, but obnoxious commercials got in the way.
“Even on the radio you would be listening to relaxing music, trying to get to sleep and, all of a sudden, an advert would come on, yelling at you to buy something,” Watson said. He decided to start his own radio station with ad-free ambient music, Sleep Radio.
Could it be that issues that have plagued us for years are projects in disguise? Maybe the wisdom we’ve gained by going through a challenge can help someone else.
This reminds me of that moment years ago when I was waiting in a doctor’s office to discuss how to correct my macular hole, and a woman sat down in the chair next to me. “I had the surgery,” she told me. “I still can’t see. The doctor said it’s not healing well.” Oddly enough, this woman looked just like me, only twenty years older: red hair, glasses, sensible shoes. “Sorry to hear that,” I said to her, thinking, Well, I’m in my thirties, so I’ll probably heal faster.
As it turns out, I had the same unfortunate result. I thought, where is the information online for patients considering this procedure? Does anyone get a positive result?
I realized I was in a unique position and could tell potential patients what to expect, so I started an online support group called “Recuperade.” Since the procedure made my vision worse, I always suggest getting a second opinion, even a third one. The road may be rough while you’re on it, but if you make a map for others, something good might come of it after all.
Color me befuddled. I could have sworn the voiceover in the commercial said that patients with “Twerkulosis” were advised not to take this medication.
Pause.
Twerkulosis? Is that something you’d see in a viral dance video? Viral in a good way, I suppose. Not like a contagion, or something. Of course, twerking at my age could throw a hitch in my gitalong. A twist in my pretzel.
Of course, what he said was: “Tuberculosis.”
Then I could have sworn a man in a conversation with friends spoke of being a “nocturnal octopus.” What might that be? A man who gets all handsy in the evening? That’s a bad thing, I would guess.
Oh. Wait. He said “eternal optimist.”
Mercy. This is why people get cranky as they get older. We start to have trouble with the senses we’ve counted on our entire lives. Hearing gets hinky. Vision gets blurry. And, of course, most people don’t project when they speak, so it can all lead to frustration.
It’s like a real-life game of Mad Libs. What random word will my ears hear? What is actually being said? Maybe this part of our lives is intended to teach us humility and those around us patience. Now, more than ever, the Golden Rule is a godsend.
Imagine that you haven’t eaten much for days. It’s the end of long night, and you’re exhausted. You look up and realize there’s a building on fire! By the time you call for help, it might be too late. What would you do?
One of the residents told the press, “They made sure everyone got out. They knocked on each door until someone opened. If it wasn’t for them we would never have got out.”
I saw this news story on Reddit, and was puzzled as to why I couldn’t find it anywhere else online. It’s a feel-good story with heroes and a happily ever after. People of different generations and faiths coming together in the midst of a crisis.
The conspiracy-theorist in me is wondering: Why isn’t this in the headlines? Is it because it’s a story about Muslims that doesn’t feed into the negative, erroneous view some may hold?
Most people are peaceful and want to do the right thing. If only we’d see each other as relatives in the human family, labels and misconceptions would be a thing of the past.
My yard is populated with birds, squirrels, and an occasional deer. There are also some squatters that hang around: Rocco and Enrique, the raccoons, and Fred Sanford, the red fox I see once in a while. Inside, every so often, I’ve had to contend with Sid and Sylvia, the silverfish. And of course, Steve, the spider who lives behind the bathroom door.
Every last one of them thinks that this is THEIR house.
They look askance at me as I’m looking askance at them.
What are you doing in my home? we’re each thinking.
If we startle each other, both of us react in fear. I always try to capture bugs as opposed to having to squish them, but if they surprise me, I make no promises. As long as they respect my space, we can co-exist in peace. Isn’t it the same way with the world?
This is my country. What are you doing here? In this country that was founded by immigrants. Mind you, this land was already populated by native Americans. Religions all stake the same claim: We alone possess the truth. Abide by our rigid rules, or suffer the consequences! When we overlap, we tend to squish each other, talking louder, claiming the community’s shared space as our own.
Then there’s Grady the groundhog, who keeps finding a way back under my house despite a wildlife company trapping nine of his family members, sealing holes and installing underground fencing. It took him a while, but he found his way back in. I hear him knocking sometimes under my sunroom. We aren’t each others’ fans, but like religion and politics, if the best I can do is not burn down the house to get rid of a few pests, it’s a tiny step in the right direction.
A news segment on airline mechanics who feel pressured to hurry through repairs or not do a thorough job was really eye-opening. Reporter Gayle King commented, ”It’s amazing how much trust we have in people we don’t know to do their jobs well.” But even when we realize we can’t do the job, we still need to eat. Pay for minor sundries like heat and electricity. And pay the note on the car that gets us to the job we can’t do anymore but don’t know why.
Then there are the choices we have to make when there is no other choice.
Like the length of time it took me to realize that I couldn’t see well enough anymore to get behind the wheel and drive. Then one day, I was coming out of my garage and said “Hi!” to my neighbor on his porch across the street, only to realize it wasn’t my neighbor at all. It was a life-sized scarecrow sitting in a rocking chair that they’d put on the porch as a Halloween decoration.
Okay. This has to stop, I told myself. But with that choice, a host of other daily choices were spawned. With no source of transportation once I took myself off the road, I’d have to rely on family and friends when they were available, but they had their own obligations. I ended up using a paid rideshare to get around.
Look into the eyes of the people you meet today. The ones who deliver your mail. Ring up your groceries. If the cashier gives you the wrong change, it may be because they’re dealing with pain you can’t see and are working through it. You’ve been there. Maybe you are there. Being patient with other human beings is the point of being human.
Is it possible to speak about heavy subjects and still keep a light spirit? I think so.
Due to my obvious adeptliness at the Inglish langwich, I give all of the household items around me pet names. My car is named Carrie (pronounced Kahr-ee), my plant is named Plantie, and my phone, for reasons I know savvy readers will understand, is named Really. (Get it? I knew you would!) Words. Yes. Words are my strong soot.
But I think we ought to do a deep dive into the words that people of faith use to describe themselves.
“Christian” really doesn’t apply when you weaponize your faith as a way of targeting people with other beliefs.
“Because it’s a part of history” isn’t reason enough to display symbols of bigotry like the confederate flag. History should be stored in a museum, properly placed into context and used to educate, not perpetuate hate.
“That’s how it’s always been done” isn’t justification for doing the wrong thing, this far into our civilization’s development. The point of evolution is to continue to improve, and not to stay stuck in an antiquated era, like it’s set in stone and society cannot move forward.
The fact that we get to hit the re-set button isn’t just a random occurrence. Every new day is a clean slate. We can learn from yesterday or live the same day, the same way.
PS All of the creative misspellifications in this post are intentional. Have a gud dae!
praypower4today 