honesty and compassion

Lying in bed at 5 a.m. this morning, trying to psyche myself out of an oncoming cold, it occurred to me: I haven’t written about the one idea, the one problem that has taught me the most about myself and about other people this year. The problem of honesty, compassion, and how they relate to each other. I consider myself an honest person, overall, but there’s more to honesty than not lying. There is the realization that, no matter how strongly you feel about something, no matter how utterly you believe something to be true, it is only your opinion, your truth you can ever know. There is the drive to be right, and to believe in the experiences that have shaped you until this moment. Sometimes in the pursuit of truth, armed with the tool-cum-weapon of...

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Posted on 10 Nov 1999 | Comments Off

listening

Carmela explained to me, hesitant, fingers pressed against the plastic tablecloth at her kitchen table, that she had a problem. The problem is Thursday. I never realized how odd the word Thursday sounds; how hard it is to say: the smushing of /th/ and /ur/ then with a side of /z/, flipping to the afterthought “day”. We practiced, of course, earning a bright, toothy grin from her youngest child whose name I, ironically, can’t pronounce at all. He gave me Halloween mini-M&Ms, giggled, and disappeared into the living room, leaving Carmela and I to Chapter Two, “Tomas is from Mexico.” Mostly I listen, in between explaining and defining, to her pronunciation, to the rich Spanish thrill sneaking blind kisses on the consonants. I listen...

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Posted on 5 Nov 1999 | Comments Off