Entrances and Exits:

Reasons to work towards a country free of AIDS

  I just finished an evening run.    I am very good at keeping my inner anguish at bay for weeks at a time, but tonight, I let it flow.  Life does not get easier.   I often forget the source of my suffering and then I find myself shocked by the sadness and grief that flows when my soul is given the space to grieve.    I allow myself to catalogue my losses.  Not often, but just at times like these when the grief seems otherwise unjustified.    The last year has been ripe with losses, too many to process in the short period of time in which they inundated my life.   I spend my days witnessing the suffering of others.  It is a gift to be that witness.  I understand that suffering is universal and at times, relentless.  

My life has been divided into two parts:  the first 50 years were soaked in privilege and blessings, an unfair amount when compared to the lives of so many others.  It was a life full of entrances.  People, relationships, experiences, more people, more relationships more experiences all entering graciously, one at a time, building on each other until joy overflowed.  It was my mistake, or perhaps my lack of wisdom, that caused me to believe that life would always be that way;  all additions and no subtractions, people entering in and sticking like a wonderful, warm and comforting glue.

This isn't to say there weren't some very traumatic early losses but nothing like the last few years when all the exits seemed to be opened and so many of the people I loved took their leave.  

I catalogue the losses but just long enough to remember the source of the pain;  an act of kindness to my soul but I make sure not to linger here.    Indulgence may cause me to be unprepared for a future time when life fills up again.

I have learned some valuable lessons in the last year.  I sat beside a woman at an event a few days ago.  She was in her 80's.   She talked openly about her losses, in particular, the loss of her husband of 52 years.  She shared her story with such laughter and joy.  She acknowledged her loneliness but in the next breath she beamed at how blessed she had been and how she found such great comfort in remembering the time in her life when the entrances out numbered the exits.

That's how I hope to be.  When so much loss happens in such a short  period of time, the risks are great.  I have seen many people just let go of joy believing that the best way to stop the exiting is to close off the entrances;  keep new experiences, new people, new love out.  Let go of hope.  Keep a running list of the losses ruminating deep within.  Let the losses smother all chance of recovery.   Close out the light, the healing and the moving forward.  Stop seeing the beauty and the blessings that are ever present despite the grief.  Let an empty shell keep breathing while true living ceases.

I think this is why I do what I do.   For some in this world the losses are so great, so devastating, that they simply can't be overcome.   If I could just work toward closing the exits for people whose lives are consistently and unjustly traumatized.  If I could just stop the pain from being overwhelming even for just a few, then I have done my job well.  

$ 2 million

I have become a crazy person, certifiably crazy.  I don't really know how I got here.  I should be waking up in the morning thinking about the day ahead, making plans for dinner, creating a grocery list in my mind, scheming to squeeze in some exercise, wondering how to top up my RRSPS.   Instead, I wake up with a heavy weight on my chest.  First thing, before my eyes open, 5 am on the dot.  I open one eye to glance at the clock hoping beyond all hope that it will proclaim a decent hour.  Something reasonable like 6 am or 6:30 am... but no.  It always says 5 am.  For the next hour and a half I struggle to fall back into the safe haven of sleep.  I fight to keep the anxious thoughts out.  I know that if I just get out of bed and walk a few steps down the hall, my daytime brain will take over with all of it's rationalizations, and I will feel a sense of calm, reassured that my problems are not insurmountable.  

Here is where crazy comes in.  I have put myself out on a long and thin limb with only a tentative grip.  My first thought is not about the plans for the day and whether or not I can get it all done.  No.   My first thought is wondering whether I can raise another $2 million.  Two million!  Who does that?  Who makes a decision to try to reach such an out of reach goal?  Why place such a monstrous thing on my shoulders?

There is a very long answer to that question.  It comes with a very long story and I think it is time to tell it.  I have tried on many occasions to start this story with no success.  Recently, I met a remarkable young woman.  She is young and beautiful, highly educated and skilled with energy and enthusiasm that should be bottled up and sold for millions.  She is teaching me all things social media.  That is her job.  Her career.  Yep.  Thirty five years ago, heck, ten years ago, there was no such thing and now smart young people are making a career out of teaching the ins and outs of information technology and creating a stellar web presence.  Charlotte's was the only popular web around when I was growing up but here we are, a new and challenging era.

And so, here's to you Martha.  You recommended I blog and then you poked me when I hadn't posted yet.  I am curling up in a cannonball, plugging my nose and jumping in.  Two million dollars for 200,000 AIDS orphans.  That's worth a blog or two