A Reflection on the Forum
April 25, 2006
Many years ago I had a teacher who encouraged me by saying that, whenever I had to write from my heart, I only had to ask two questions. The first one is: What is true for me right now? And then to ask: How do I feel about that truth? So, I applied that teaching to this reflection about the PA C.A.R.E.S. forum I attended and the video I saw yesterday in Harrisburg.
What is true for me is that there was no sense of shame. Watching the film, and hearing the voices of the others, who suffered so much more than I could imagine, moved me beyond words. And then I could not help but think about the others – still in the shadows, still without a voice – the ones no one knows exist, the ones who are so unspeakably alone with their pain. And my heart aches for them.
I can see them and understand why they prefer the shadows to the light.
I can hear their unuttered cries, and even primitive whimpers, as their bodies feel again and again what they have worked so hard to forget.
I know them as they come so close to being intimate with another - so close to letting themselves be seen, to letting themselves be loved - only to move a half step back. I know that they step back not so much to create a rift as to create a gap, a gap that others try in vain to bridge.
I feel their anguish as those gaps begin to widen, as they feel themselves isolated on a small piece of ice floating farther away from the very ones they yearn to be close to.
I stumble along with them as they are lost in a rainforest of feelings, longing for a machete, for a sharp edge of reason, that might cut through the tangled vines of sadness and anger, shame and powerlessness, and the loneliness that twist about their souls.
I am touched by the hope they still have that the simple acts of being seen and being heard can impact the world. I can hope with them even as I know what they say to themselves when no one can hear them. I know they say that no one can stop this endless cycle of pain. No one can really create a safe world for children.
Yet, even when they are feeling most resigned and depleted, still they choose once again to take the risk, take the plunge into the icy waters that surround them. Even when they despair, they make the effort to connect with those who are all around them – all those around them each trying in their one way to show them that they are not alone, that their voices do matter, that they will not be abandoned or let down again.
I see them, I understand them, I hear them, I am touched by them, and I hope with them because I am one of them.