human

searching for you

i’m searching

searching for the thread of humanity

that links us all together

the thread that reminds us

that we all need food to survive

and a bed at the end of the day.

that

we all need people to love

and to love us.

we all have stared at an ocean

or a burning fire

or heard the rain on the window

and breathed easier

for a few moments.

we all have a favorite food

and a night that we remember fondly.

we all know what it feels like

to stub a toe

or to nurse

a broken heart.

we all have hummed a song

not knowing any of the words

and have burnt our fingers

while preparing food

for someone

we love.

we all have cried

and we all have laughed

we all know the meaning of loss

and birth

and growth.

and when the world erupts in flames

and we become enemies

somehow it seems that

it doesn’t matter

that we are all human.

we’re tired.

can’t we find some other way

to make our voices heard

without simply raising our voices

above

the

rest?

i’m searching for humanity

in a world of humans.

—

Etti Krinsky

This Week

This week,

a cashier complimented me, after months of my complaining that New York cashiers walk around as if the world slapped them – which in fact, in a way, it does, through entitled customers. A cashier complimented me, and the sun was shining, and I was surprised as I said thank you, taking my change, but receiving much more.

This week,

i sat on the subway with my sister, as we speculated about other passengers, their life stories, their destinations, and I realized they might be looking at us, and for a moment, I was burning with desire to know what they saw. Two girls, on the subway, heading towards an adventure that would last a day, with flowers; and coffee; and too much dinner.

This week,

i boarded a bus alone, traveling by myself for the first time in months, among strangers, my head bent as I avoided eye contact, hoping for my own seat, finally winning, and then wondering why someone who loves connection finds isolation so dangerously sweet.

This week,

as i waited for my second bus, sleep heavy on my eyes, I observed two homeless women, having set up camp in a bus station in a city, but as they prepared for bed, they laughed together like schoolgirls, perhaps denying the truth of their middle aged homelessness, perhaps not denying anything at all.

This week,

i drove for the first time in a while, preferring the quiet NH streets to the wild ones in NYC, and my windows were down, and my music was loud, and I was all alone, and I was happy.

This week,

I laughed with a cashier, back in my hometown, and as I paid her I realized that people in this part of the world didn’t look like they were slapped, and that was pretty cool, and that being alone is great, but connection is all that sweeter.

6/52.

Remember this pain.

IMG_1746

Every time it happens, we pull together.
Everyone feels united in pain, in the shock we all felt when we heard. Social media is peppered with photos of the heroes, those who put aside everything, to save someone a person they didn’t know.
Today, we are together in grief.
Today, we pray together, we fall together, we pull each other up.
Tomorrow, the anger will begin to sneak back in.
The baseless hatred, the crushing words, the unnecessary bickering that has become our new normal.
Only when we are shocked into silence by terror are we able to stop talking and look at each other as human beings.
Why do we let this happen? Time and time again?
Our country will only continue to spiral into the terrifying mess it is quickly becoming, if we don’t decide to stop.
Put the swords down, lay down the weapons, and let’s face our common enemy together.

Just days into the Jewish new year, let us prove that we can recognize the human in each other before the tragedy has to strike.

The next time you feel like lashing out on a stranger on the internet, remember this pain, this grief, this connection you felt with your fellow human beings today.

Take something from this senseless act, and let it be a motivator for love, understanding, and courage in a time when acceptance is what we preach, yet rarely practice.

The world is trembling. Rather than ripping it apart with our words and hateful actions, let us tenderly fix each broken seam, and lovingly put it back together again.

Not all heroes wear capes, they say.

Take today, and become a hero.

 

Blog post: 4/52.

Dedicated to the memory of the 59 lost souls in Las Vegas, and all those who have needlessly lost their lives this year.