“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.” ~ Abraham Lincoln
I am not a fan of the “learning lessons from trauma” school of thought. I acknowledge the potential for growth and development, but there are too many times when analyzing the lessons tragedy and disaster are supposed to teach us, that we end up revictimizing ourselves and others. There is no rational reason for irrational events. It’s like applying the wrong algebraic equation to a problem and wondering why you can’t get an answer that works.
What if the real lesson is less about pinpointing the cause (Mother Nature is mad, “act of God,” stupid human tricks, old-fashioned bad luck, etc.) and more about what we can take with us that will improve life in the long run. It’s the small kindnesses that emerge, the heroism and courage in neighbors and strangers. It’s the stripping away of irrelevant labels that divide us. It’s the knowledge that we’re all in this messy thing called life together.
For now, we’re beyond grateful, as we should be. Awareness of the fragility of our reality changes the way we behave. The little gripes we had last month about our community, our neighbors, life in general… have (for most of us… there are some hopeless curmudgeons out there) faded into obscurity, sanded down by anxiety and exhaustion, and polished smooth with mindful appreciation. We’ve been reminded that we all have something in common, and that creates a connection that overrides petty differences.
We’ve seen this pattern again and again in times of tragedy and sorrow. Our “better angels” arise and for a few weeks or a few months they dominate our conversations, our interactions, our choices. We’re a little gentler with one another, we give a little more grace. We’re less self-centered and more compassionate. For a time, we weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice. It is, as much as I hate to admit it, a silver lining.
The question is, how do we hold on to it? How do we keep “normal” life, as it returns, from tarnishing that silver lining and returning us to complacency or worse, contention? How do we stay in contact with our own better angels?
