One Love

I hesitate to declare that I have been an unhappy person for many years. One reason is that I have experienced much happiness in the past so it wouldn’t be completely true, and the other is that when we are aware of, and open to the suffering of others, it’s difficult to claim unhappiness or discontent for oneself. Today I stood on the street grappling for the car keys to my 2000 Subaru Outback, overwhelmed by the stress of the day: the lack of parking, the blistering heat, the constant negotiating, maneuvering and manipulating one must do to get through an hour in this town (but how glorious a town it is!), and then I’m approached by someone needing a buck and a smoke. So I give him a buck, even if I give him 5, big deal, I get into my air-conditioned car and slug back my iced coffee, light with 1 sugar. I suppose what I’m gearing up to say is that it’s been a struggle for me to reveal my personal suffering, not to those I am most intimate with, but to those of you I have never met and who read this blog. I am hesitant, but I do it anyway, and what I am compelled to say is that I am so humbled, so unbelievably moved by the compassion I have received, it sometimes brings me to tears. Of course then my mind quickly moves to reject this outpouring of support, and thoughts of civilian Iraqi families come into my head; surely my situation doesn’t compare to theirs! Certainly I don’t deserve such attention and sympathy. And then I remember something I encountered when I was 17. My first experience being an “Activist” was when I was on a one-woman, or should I say one-girl crusade to save the baby Harp Seal. I lived in Los Angeles and would walk for miles around the city posting flyers and petitions so that something might be done to stop the slaughter of these beautiful animals. One day I went down to the boat dock at Marina Del Rey to retrieve a petition I had left there with a pen attached, and what I found was most disturbing. On the petition was a list of names; people who had signed in support, but the whole paper was then marked up in black ink. The words, “WHY DON'T YOU STOP TRYING TO SAVE BABY ANIMALS AND START TRYING TO SAVE UNBORN, ABORTED BABY HUMANS?” were scrawled over the signatures. I was just a kid and my heart was so into this cause, and as I stood looking at the defaced petition, I didn’t have a clue as to how to handle it. But luckily the defacer had the courtesy to leave his name and phone number so that I could call and we could talk. I went home, dialed the number, and it turned out to be a Christian bookstore. (No offense to my dear friends who are TRUE Christians, as one of them pointed out “Followers of Christ,”) I only mention the bookstore because even at 17, the irony was not lost on me. All these years later I do remember what I said to the defacer. I said, “How do you know I don’t spend time fighting for the rights of unborn babies as well as slaughtered seals? How do you know that I’m not the head of the anti-abortion movement in Los Angeles?” I went on to explain what would happen to the world if everyone dropped all of the causes that inspired them to take action, and focused all of their energy and efforts only on the plight of the unborn, unwanted child. In other words, what about everyone and everything else? So, okay, I’ve gotten a bit off track and now I’m not even certain these things will connect in the end, but the thing is, here I am, a 43 year old woman sitting in her one-bedroom New York City apartment, with a desk, lots of computer and editing equipment, a few dishes in the kitchen, a 6-pack of Mexican beer in the fridge, a truck load of books and a bed. Here I am, in a place I never would have dreamed I’d be, and although I know it’s just where I am supposed to be, it’s also a confusing and frightening and lonely time.

Ten years ago on a Friday night in February it was my turn to hear the news that my beloved father was dead. Tonight it will be someone else’s turn. In another probability it was me on the street corner looking for a buck and a smoke, and it might be you who one day finds yourself at a turning point in your life, and suddenly, with no warning, your map looks unfamiliar, your direction has changed and your life has been altered forever.

Among those on my side are American writers, Canadian reverends, Indian students and Hawaiian housewives. It’s easy for them to relate to and support me because we share the understanding that we are all here together. We are all the same, in essence, doing the same thing, and right now, at one of the most difficult times in my life, I have never felt so blessed for the gifts I’ve received, and for the ones that keep coming. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Katie