A house burning
The beginning of a song I started writing a couple days ago:
One week ago I got news that a man I used to work with in northern Uganda was brutally murdered. Though I was not especially close with him I did appreciate him, and the news affected me deeply. It sat me down and laid out before me, once again, all the disparity between our wealthy homeland and places like northern Uganda, the great gap between our opportunities and theirs, between our vast array of choices and their imprisonment in cycles of poverty and violence.
Sitting here in San Diego I am impotent to address this tragedy; I can not offer comfort or commiseration, peace or vengeance. I can not be there to celebrate his life or help lay him in the finality of the open earth.
One thing I can do is live my life with constant remembrance of our suffering neighbors in Uganda, in Sudan, Congo, and Somalia, in Sierra Leone and Cote d'Ivoire, in Burma and North Korea, and in hundreds of other locales throughout the globe, letting our common humanity and innate equality inform my choices.
I realized last week, though, that I haven't been doing this. Many of my decisions have the oily sheen of self-absorption, even though I know better than most how little I need my own concern, and how much others might rightly benefit from it.
Moreover, I realized again that my empathy is extremely limited (empathy in this case synonimizing with love or selflessness). Though I have seen great suffering around the world, my attention seems so easily lulled away from anything of consequence. Hence, I believe, the song lyrics that my subconscious delivered up to me: "I wonder why I'm not crying."
Perhaps these are the growing pains of a heart. More to come on these themes.
There's a house burning across the streetThese lyrics surfaced on my consciousness while driving through Balboa Park earlier this week. I wasn't trying to create at the time - they sang themselves to me.
I think I hear people dying
And I watch its glow upon my feet
And wonder why I'm not crying
One week ago I got news that a man I used to work with in northern Uganda was brutally murdered. Though I was not especially close with him I did appreciate him, and the news affected me deeply. It sat me down and laid out before me, once again, all the disparity between our wealthy homeland and places like northern Uganda, the great gap between our opportunities and theirs, between our vast array of choices and their imprisonment in cycles of poverty and violence.
Sitting here in San Diego I am impotent to address this tragedy; I can not offer comfort or commiseration, peace or vengeance. I can not be there to celebrate his life or help lay him in the finality of the open earth.
One thing I can do is live my life with constant remembrance of our suffering neighbors in Uganda, in Sudan, Congo, and Somalia, in Sierra Leone and Cote d'Ivoire, in Burma and North Korea, and in hundreds of other locales throughout the globe, letting our common humanity and innate equality inform my choices.
I realized last week, though, that I haven't been doing this. Many of my decisions have the oily sheen of self-absorption, even though I know better than most how little I need my own concern, and how much others might rightly benefit from it.
Moreover, I realized again that my empathy is extremely limited (empathy in this case synonimizing with love or selflessness). Though I have seen great suffering around the world, my attention seems so easily lulled away from anything of consequence. Hence, I believe, the song lyrics that my subconscious delivered up to me: "I wonder why I'm not crying."
Perhaps these are the growing pains of a heart. More to come on these themes.
Labels: Economic Injustice, Northern Uganda, Thoughts
posted by James at 01:57
5 Comments:
I can't think of anything to say except that this resonates deeply. So good to have you writing again.
Brother...You don't even know how much I understand you. I feel this so deeply in myself as well. We get so wrapped up in ourselves, even when we are trying so hard not to be that way. What I find disgusting is that I can go days without even thinking of the suffering in the world. Then all the sudden I see something like an IC bracelet laying around or something from SD that brings it all flooding back. Some days I feel no hope. Like there is nothing that I can do to help. I don’t know man…this is hard to put in words as I’m sure you have felt at times. Just know, that there are a lot of people out there feeling exactly what you are. Trust me on this one. I’m praying for you, for us, for all of those that are feeling this way.
Hello James,
I read this piece and was touched. My name is Eric and I am the Sr. Editor for a social networking site for teens called BlueChowder.com. We are based in SD.
We have a faith-based slant and do a lot of work with social justice orgs. I was wondering if you might want to help contribute some content. We can discuss further if you are interested. Please email me back at eric@bluechowder.com
Thanks again. I hope to hear from you.
EY
James, it was good to have you hang out at IC and the roadie house. Thanks for sharing this, and letting me in on this part of your story. It's nice to hear about home from someone who has seen it and understands.
your words are big and wide, but small and simple, because you speak simple and powerful truths. Thanks for that. And for reminding me again, why I chose this path.
~bethany at the roadie house
Em, thanks.
Mike, I hear you bro. I often ask myself, "What's it all about?" Change always starts with the first, though, never with the last. Let's be the first.
Eric, thanks friend.
Bethany, glad that we share some understanding.
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