Tuesday, September 18, 2001

The Price of Being Human

I watched TV for the first time last night, not the usual TV, the news shows, and the wall-to-wall coverage that has been a part of our lives the last week. I finally sat down and turned on the TV to find sit coms doing what they do: slapstick, something stupid, carefully delivered lines and facial gymnastics. I felt a little numb when watching, and a part of me didn't seem to understand the humor at hand. It was a surreal experience. I heard the TV, I saw the TV, but I didn't feel the transmission of information. It was almost as if I was feeling things in a distant and faraway land. I sought distraction these last few days, whether that be in the company of others, or solace in a quiet time by myself, but television wasn't the distraction I wanted.

Holding myself together these last days has been incredible, that is, presenting yourself to be a strong and consistent individual who others come to for support, is not easy, nor is it something that you can expect just anyone to put up in the face of such terrible disaster and tragedy. I was working with a student, and I found myself caught up in the moment of understanding her fear and her stress that I started to tear. She panicked and said, "No, not you too!" I had to turn it off and bring it back to her emotions, and somewhere in that moment I lost the trust and expectation that I was going to be strong so she can be strong. It's that neutral face that I'm expected to present to each and every client, no matter how much that topic resonates with me, or how much I personally am affected by that situation.

While flipping through the channels, avoiding the visions of airliners downing themselves into the ground and buildings, the images of people holding up placards laced with pictures and grim hope, I saw things that saddened me even more: silliness in sit-coms, unfulfilling commentaries and efforts at bringing life back to "the way it was". I sought comfort and found only mockeries of the reality we had before our lives changed for the worse. Before the God Bless America, before Amazing Grace, there was mere existance. Now we have awakened and heightened ourselves to something bigger, badder, and better, and I just want to get away from that and find something that makes sense for once. The enormity of the situation is incomprehensible.

But last night, when I was flipping through the channels, I saw David Letterman, and I found him interviewing Dan Rather, grand old stalwart of the news media. I paused a moment, and marvelled at how well composed he looked, but I saw his bags covered by makeup, and his color evened out by a stylist. I probed his face for a sense of the tiredness, but he sat firm and upright as if to not waver. I admired him for this quality. And then, in an exchange I didn't catch, he started to falter, and I heard him sob quietly. Dave put his hand on his arm, and he tried to comfort him with some words. Dan apologized, and he said, "I'm a pro, I shouldn't being doing this." Dave said, "God man, you're human too."

And for this alone I admired him even more. Because the truth is, we are now in touch with that evasive sense of mortality that is never spoken about, and may that bring us closer to understanding our humanity and our lives in a bigger sense of the word. The price of being human is costly, but regaining that humanity comes at a far greater price.

Voodoo

posted by Voodoo Child @ 9:08:00 PM