Pain

My cousin and I decided on an impromptu trip to a farmer's market one morning. We made our way down the staircase, through the hall, and out to the front gate of our apartment building. Luckily, I had scored a park right in front of our apartment on the road. Not in a rush, and checking if street cleaning was happening, we chilled outside by the car for a moment. All of a sudden, we hear the loudest thud, followed by multiple shrieks. All the ruckus appeared to come from our apartment building. We heard it clear as day and quickly turned around to see what happened. A few seconds go by and it's unclear what happened, that is, until a woman comes out the front door and rushes to the side of the building where her son had fallen. The loud thud was the boy falling from the fire escape and onto the concrete landing by our building.

The mother and sister of the boy are a wreck. The mother rushes her son out front, through the gate, to where me and my cousin are standing in shock. She screams out to us in spanish. For that one second you freeze and don't know what to do. My cousin grabs her phone and frantically dials 911. Meanwhile, I rush to the boy and try to help the mother place him to the ground. Blood drips from his head. We place him down in the grass. I must stop the bleeding. I turn to grab my keys and rush back into the apartment, up the stairs, to my room. By chance I had a new roll of paper towels on my desk, which I grabbed and immediately ran back downstairs. Holding this little five year old's head to stop the bleeding was traumatic. The whole situation was traumatic. On the positive, the boy was still conscious, and the ambulance got to us in record time. They did a fantastic job taking care of everything at that point. But seeing a little boy, who barely takes up half the length of the stretcher, screaming out in pain, it's terrifying. I instantly think of my nieces and nephews, and to the future when I myself might have a son.

The medics asked us a few questions, then loaded the boy into the ambulance, and were on their way. Everything happened so fast. It's just segments, blips, little pieces that are collected. My cousin and I walk slowly back into our apartment, to our room, and we take a deep breath. We speak a few words, trying to process what happened, and reassure ourselves that everything will be alright for the little boy. All these little events led us to this big event, which impacted us and removed me from my own head.

Quite often we spend much of our time considering our own life, what is going on with us, and what we are going to do next. I fixate on things about myself and lose all track of the world around me. Just a couple days later from the one incident, I wake up to the smell of fire. A nearby four story apartment building had gone up in flames. Each event draws me a little more outside of myself, and into the reality of what's going on around me. So many important things I should be paying attention to but i'm not. Now I keep hearing sirens everywhere, realizing it could be another fire or another little boy or some other tragic event.

Walking through the plaza where I work, out of nowhere, i'm struck with a thought. What if someone was screaming out for help amongst all these people...would anyone help them? Do we ignore things if they don't make an impact on our own life? Do we care? Do I care? The life of convenience gets a wrench thrown in it when there's pain, and yet, I don't think we can live without it. Pain is a vital part of life. We ARE suffering, presently, and must help one another on a regular basis. Some scars are less visible than others, but everyone has them. This is a learning opportunity! Don't wish away the bad times. We must welcome in the knowledge that comes from heartache.

Only then do we get a grander scope of the world and how things work. This will inevitably lead us to pay more attention, to others, and to the world around us. The physical and metaphysical. We are all witnesses to one big event. I've spent so much of my time closing my eyes, blaming the world for everything, and looking out for myself. I've gotten so comfortable as a so called introvert, who can people watch all day, and safely stay at a distance in my own head. I didn't understand how bad it was until something bad happened in front of me, forcing me to open my eyes and care for somebody else. I pray for that little boy. He is such a special part of this world, and I hope he can experience it fully.

May we all experience the world fully, with pain and joy, laughing and crying, sickness and health. People are crying out all over the world every single day. May we listen. May I listen to my own words and not let them become conceded. I'm so bad at paying attention and focusing, but this at least feels like a small step in the right direction.

Curtain Call

Enter the haze. Welcome in the characters that have been assigned roles, just like yourself. I know, it appears as if they've already memorized the script. They're in costume and without hesitation follow each cue from the stage manager. You, meanwhile, fumble around with a couple props and can't remember your placement let alone your lines. It's a disaster. You survive another rehearsal, which you consider a major achievement, but it's as if the show never ends. Your memory recounts a curtain opening, but never one closing. This is where we stand.

Her words speak of past scenes that you missed, while you wandered off for a smoke break. An enlightening smoke break which lasted three years. Nevertheless, you acknowledge what has been missed in more ways than one. This bout of improv felt liberating and yet the play continued on, in the background, as a quiet whisper. Experiences in life leave you either turning the volume up or down, or placing everything on mute depending on your circumstances. Our emotions are changing from scene to scene. Too much hope and joy can be placed on the end result, which leads to misguided actions. Don't fool yourself in thinking every single action is misguided though, quite the contrary. It's the lines we forget that will forever be engrained in our minds, but guess what, the actor right next to you screwed up his lines too. This is an ensemble cast in case you forgot.

What if the curtain close was all just a nasty ploy to keep us distracted from holding hands and bowing no matter what. If you listen close you might just hear the subtlest of applause, coming all the way from the cheap seats, landing deep within your soul. You did it. You showed up. Another dress rehearsal and the actors and actresses await that spark, that thrill. Maybe you thought John Lennon was a dreamer, but he just took a step onto the stage, where he felt alive. That opportunity is offered to all of us. The morningtime reminds me of a purpose instilled beyond anything or anyone's control. Something uniting me with the rest of the cast. Maybe it's all in my head. I'm sure you're getting along just fine with your script, turning each page with ease. Although, your crooked smile says otherwise.

You seek out those that are down to Earth. The ones that take a step back and question their role in the performance. The introverts with a hipster lifestyle that has yet to catch on. If only you could have a scene of dialogue with one of them, you might not worry so much about your lines or your upcoming monologue. The window slowly closes as the morning sun disappears and makes way for the moon. You're too fixated on your cue that you'll never understand the reality of freedom within this drama, this comedy, this piece of art we hold up to criticize.

The show must go on. Please don't remain behind the scenes never to showcase your talent. Don't give up, no matter how hard it gets. Enter the haze and remember that morningtime feeling, before anxiety and fear awake, where you experience calm. Only when we join the cast will we find joy, and find our own part. They're not called supporting actors for nothing. This is where we stand....together.