Sunday, February 12, 2012

A Verse

I recently found myself sitting on an airplane, waiting for the final passengers to board. Flight attendants closed the door as the last passenger entered. She was a large woman, covered in tattoos, with disheveled hair, and a distinct cigarette smell. The kind of lady I’d be afraid to meet in a dark alley. She walked up and down the aisle a few times, searching in vain for an overhead bin to store her carry on. She tried to force it into a small opening, without much success. She pushed and shoved, but try as she might, couldn’t quite get the bin to close. You could sense the unspoken mood of the passengers on the plane. Frustration. Grumbling under their breath. “Come on lady. Just sit down.” After all, this wasn’t our problem. She should’ve gotten to the airport earlier. I found myself watching this whole scene unfold like a silent spectator. “She should put the wheels in first.” I thought to myself. “You can usually save an extra inch by sliding the wheels in first. I wonder if she’ll figure that out?” And then I heard a little voice inside my head. I’ve heard the Spirit speak to me on a few occasions. But this was the first time it’s ever sworn. It yelled at my conscience, and I quote: “What in the Hell is the matter with you?!!” And I suddenly realized, this wasn’t an actress on stage. And I wasn’t a powerless audience member. This was a human being. A fellow human being. Struggling with something, and probably embarrassed. I finally stood up and offered to help. As soon as I grabbed the bag, it was like the invisible wall between this woman and the rest of the passengers came crashing down. It was no longer an “us vs. her” mentality. But a combined “Us vs. this situation”. Several men took hold of her heavy bag, while others offered to help move their smaller items to free up space. One woman even commiserated with the lady “Don’t you hate the small overhead bins they give us?” There was a collective sense of accomplishment when we finally got everything to fit.

Too often we’re lulled into a sense of complacency when we’re in our bubble, or comfort zone. We feel insulated from our fellow man, and consequently justified in our self-imposed isolation. We figure “That’s someone else's problem. We don’t have any obligation to act. To speak up. Surely someone with a badge, a name-tag, or a position of authority will come along soon.” So I resolved from that moment….

I will not stand by like a silent spectator when I can step outside my bubble and help another human being. I will tear down the invisible walls around me, and stand up, speak up, show kindness, or assist in any way I can. I will no longer view my fellow men as actors on stage for my viewing pleasure. I will empower myself to step on stage with them should the need arise.

The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. –Walt Whitman


That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse!

3 comments:

Rachel B. said...

This is awesome, Ryan! Thanks for this. I could read your writing for days! (and have...like during Christmas time :)

heath said...

That's an interesting analogy Ry. I think I often do look at others as if they're actors on the stage while I watch silently to see how the plot will unfold. Good reminder for all of us!

lori said...

This is great, Ry. I can think of several times just this week when people have stepped up to the plate in my behalf and I have been so grateful.