To comprehend the incomprehensible
This is a long one, with no pictures, but about something that has been on my mind. Kudos to you if you make it through. And I’d love your thoughts in the comments if you have any wisdom to impart.
I read a news story a couple of weeks that just wrecked me. I feel haunted by the horribleness of it and I have to vigilantly push the details out of my mind. There is so much bad news, always, and especially of late. We hear so many sad stories, but from time to time there is one that just cuts me to the quick. We all have our triggers, the things that work their way into our core and cause an actual physical hurt. For some people it’s stories of domestic violence, for some it’s animal cruelty. For me, it’s children who are hungry. And other stuff too, but that’s the big one.
I remember my family eating dinner in front of the TV news when I was probably about eight years old and seeing pictures of starving kids in Ethiopia. I can still feel the way my stomach churned and my mouth went dry and bitter, my body’s reaction to something so horrific. And the shame. The shame of sitting there with my baked chicken thighs watching people starve on the screen in front of me.
That feeling of nausea and shame still rises up upon hearing some piece of gut-wrenching news and I had it the other day. I won’t go into the details because I know that many people have a hard time when bombarded with this kind of information, but I will talk about it in a general way because it has brought up a lot of questions for me in regards to my kids and how to talk with them about atrocities both close to home and far away.
The story I read was on Humans of New York. If you haven’t ever seen Brandon’s blog, I highly recommend it, even though it can be incredibly sad at times. He takes very moving photographs of ordinary people, in New York and around the world, and pairs them with snippets of interviews with that person. He has an rare gift for getting people to reveal the most personal parts of themselves and I’m struck whenever I look at his work by the fact that every one of us is ordinary, and also extraordinary. Everyone has pain and tragedy and beauty in them and it’s inspiring to see that captured in such an artful way. He was traveling in Pakistan last month and did a whole series on people who are entrapped in modern day slavery there. He also interviewed a woman whose organization works to end bonded labor. One story she told about a family that she had helped was what had me in such a state. I wasn’t the only one, Brandon set up a fundraiser for her organization that raised two million dollars in three days (that is the good news here).
My husband, bless his heart, is as sensitive as I am when it comes to this kind of thing. We usually try to protect each other from news that we know the other one can’t bear to hear, but I did tell him about this one while we were on a walk the other evening, and we both burst into tears. While we were hugging each other in the street, Lola rode up on her bike and asked what was going on. I told her that we were just talking about a sad story that I had read and that I didn’t want to tell her about it because it was too terrible. She pushed a little and I told her that in some places in the world slavery still exists and that I had heard about an amazing woman in Pakistan who is like a present day Harriet Tubman, trying to help people be free. That was the right amount of information for her at the moment, but it has me wondering how and what to say about the horrible things that happen in the world.
If I could pick one quality for my kids, it would be compassion. I think compassion is the only thing that can really lead us to peace, globally, and within our own selves. When I see my dear ones tenderhearted and full of empathy, I’m as proud of them as I could ever be. But for those people with sensitive souls, and that is most of us, it’s detrimental to have no way to turn it off. I struggle to balance being an informed citizen of the world and protecting myself from knowledge that only causes me grief. We have so much access to information these days, but my ability to process it seems stuck a few hundred years ago, when we only knew the news from our own immediate area. How do we compartmentalize atrocities that we have no control over? Do we really need to be desensitized in order to live our lives without being constantly wrenched? And how we can possibly ask our kids to hold that kind of information when, as a grown woman, I struggle to hold it myself?
I’m baffled as to how I can help ease my daughter into this part of her adulthood. I want her to understand the privilege/responsibility/life lottery conundrum without just being filled with guilt. And I want her to be prepared when she hears some horrible story and I’m not there to hold her while she cries. I definitely feel like she is not ready to handle this kind of information but at some point in the next five years she is going to have to. Do I wait until she finds it on her own and deal with the aftermath then or do I start introducing the horrors of the world a little at a time?
All this has been floating around in my head for a week or so now, and then today I read this from Anne Lamott. She has been snooping around inside my head and then written about the things on my mind much more eloquently than I ever could. (She has done this before, and I have to say, Anne, it’s a little disconcerting.) Her writing is always insightful and charming and smart, but being a staunch agnostic, I don’t have her faith that God has our backs. I wish I did, and I wish I could tell my children to pray and have faith and that would be good enough. But that feels like a cop-out to me. A God that had control over such horribleness but allowed it to happen is not a God who is going to do anything because we pray.
The part of me that is full of shame wants to feel sick and guilty and foul as payment for winning the life lottery. And yet, to indulge in that is so very selfish and ugly. So what can we do? Donate money to whatever tragedy touches us? Yes. But it will never be enough to stop the suffering in the world. Suffering will continue as long as there are beings here to endure it.
I stood at the kitchen sink the other night, peeling carrots, and sent my best hopes for healing and peace to the family I had read about. A prayer, you could call it, I suppose. I looked around at my healthy children, my steadfast husband, my beautiful house and my table that has never once lacked for food and I cried some tears of gratitude. The only conclusion I can come to is this: small acts of goodness or love in our own lives work to shift the balance of good and bad in the world. Trying to tip the scale toward kindness might be the best we can do.
I feel like I am reading my own diary. This is a very real struggle for me and has been for as long as I can remember. Brandon is such an inspiration and gives me hope. And yes, I’ve come to the same conclusion about the small acts of love and kindness. Let’s hope we are right.
Moira, I think people either really, really get this, or they just sorta kinda get it. There are those of us who are always primed to switch off the radio when listening to NPR, and those who don’t need to. And then there are those of us who need to switch it off, but don’t. I think you and I are in the last tribe, though I try to be in the first one. Love to you.
Yea. It’s impossible. So many upsetting things and shielding ourselves and our kids from it only works so well and for so long :(. My kind of mathematical approach is to kind of honor and approach each sphere on it’s own…me, my family, the community we live in, and the larger/global community. As you said, in the past there wasn’t this awareness of the global and it’s very hard to wrap ones’ mind around. It’s easier to see our connection to the spheres that are closer, but nearly impossible to suss out our role in the universe…where it must help to believe in God, as you say 😉 Hugs my sweet friend!!!
Leave it to you, my mathematical friend, to find a way to compartmentalize. It’s very intuitive, your approach, and what we all do I think, with varying levels of success. Those bigger spheres just boggle most of our little human brains. Thus, religion.
This really resonated with me. All I can really say is…me too.
And all I can really say is…thank you.
What a wonderful, thoughtful post Ivy, putting into words what I think many of us struggle with.
We are about to go on a 30 day voyage to Singapore (I say “voyage” as it doesn’t sound nearly as self indulgent than “cruise”). Last week when I thinking about what I’m looking forward to most, the first thing that came to mind is that there would be no TV, no real Internet – NO MORE NEWS OF REFUGEES. Yes, denial and escape from reality, at least for that period of time before the onslaught starts again.
Every so often I think it’s not only ok, it’s important to give yourself a break from all the sadness that you feel helpless to solve. I don’t believe we were put on this earth to be miserable. The tragedy is that so much of the population suffers through no fault of their own. How we privileged ones got to be so dam lucky is a mystery and a responsibility.
I really do think that small acts of kindness matter. Living a life where joy, beauty and goodness are practiced makes a difference in the greater world – in our own families, communities, state, country and hopefully it will keep going all the way to Syria and beyond. And bringing up children in a house where compassion and generosity are balanced with “finding your own bliss,” having crazy fun and indulging in things that bring joy to this troubled planet is a good thing. And it seems to me that’s just what you and Robert are already doing pretty well.
I appreciate your thoughts Margaret. I go on frequent breaks, a “news hiatus” I call it. Sometimes I just need a rest, and sometimes, like now with the refugee crisis, I know enough to make me very cautious about turning on the radio or reading anything online.
You are right that being miserable does nothing to help our poor planet. It’s a responsibility of the privileged to cultivate our deep gratitude and find joy in our lives.
I hope you have a wonderful “voyage” and come back renewed and strengthened.
Thanks Ivy! Just my luck that we’ll run into a boatload of refugees out in the ocean somewhere and I’ll have to force the captain to take them aboard. (And give up my cabin!)
Dear, sweet Ivy,
Thank you for this beautiful essay. It is much better, more deeply felt, than Ann Lamont’s. I have always thought that the only thing you can say about the Christian God is that he really loves tradgedy.
Regarding the suffering of innocents and our crap-shot privileges, I wonder if you would enjoy (not the right word) the writing of the ethicist Peter Singer. He has at least one TED talk on UTube.
I will look for Peter Singer’s TED talk. I could use the perspective of an ethicist (Ethicist is an actual job!? Is that even ethical?). Thank you!
This was such a gut wrenching post for me to read….
I too struggle with this and even though we dont have television, bits and pieces of the real world sneak their way into our lives. Thanks FB.
I dont know the answer….all I can say is that I want to show my children as much goodness as possible so that when they do see the ugly, they will remember the niceties as well.
Hugs
Ivy, this is so beautiful, and I do understand that struggle of wanting to be in and of the world, but being torn up at some of the horribly painful and unspeakable experiences people have. I believe we all have to find our way into understanding this kind of inevitably painful but very human circle: to be aware of sadness and sad things builds empathy and gratitude. When faced with struggle and painful things, feeling humble, grateful, and showing kindness is often the only way to not be broken by them. And often, those who are very grateful and kind are the most sensitive to suffering happening out in the world.
Maybe it isn’t a matter of exposing Lola to the details of horrific things, but to understanding what it’s like for you and Robert when you hear stories of people who are suffering. To the fact of inequality but maybe not yet the stark examples…telling her how grateful you feel and a little bit about why in these situations. Maybe in a few years she can read this essay too. You write so beautifully and powerfully, Ivy. I’m thankful to get to read your words.
Wow Johanna, that is so nice. I know you are right, that exposing kids to our own internal struggle is much more valuable than exposing them to the horrible details of why we are struggling. And yes, exposing them to gratitude is so very important. We used to take a moment to feel grateful as a family before dinner every night but that has fallen by the wayside lately. I’m going to rededicate myself to making sure we do that, starting tonight. I so appreciate your kind and thoughtful comments.