Theme song: Stolen Car

Is There Hope for Humanity? is part of my Reader Request Series. Thank you, gentle (ha!) readers for taking the time to let me know what's on your mind so I could a) get over my writer's block and b) explore the questions that matter most to the people in my world.

Hi Anna,

This is in response to your question about what is in your readers' minds.

Since my dad died last week, I have been thinking about and appreciating the community of mourners who have also lost parents. It's like a secret society or club that has been hiding in plain sight, and once my father died, all of these sweet people have come to life in living color.

I have been struck by how this club knows no socioeconomic differences and no political parties. The socially awkward person becomes fluent and poetic when this shared topic is revealed. So many people, strangers sometimes, will jump up out of a chair (at work) to give me a hug when they find out what happened, especially if they have gone through something similar. The wisdom and useful advice that everyone seems to have (take care of yourself; it's a journey, not a sprint; you will feel sad one minute and then at peace the next and then back again; you will receive help at unexpected times; and more) may sound like clichés, but they are surprisingly accurate and therefore helpful.

So my question for you is, what do you think of this sprung-up community? Does this ability of so many different people to connect give some hope for humanity?

Xoxo

Kim

I love this question! And I know it will resonate with my readers, because many of us have lost at least one parent.

Speakable vs. Unspeakable

As humans, we are subject to a very wide range of pain and suffering from birth to death, including physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual pain. Because I don't know what I don't know, I don't know whether there are types of pain that exist somewhere in infinite space, but do not exist for us. Undiscovered aliens, for example, may exist in some other dimensions besides the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual dimensions and therefore may feel pain in ways we cannot imagine.

I bring this up because, having experienced the death of a child, people somewhat regularly tell me that there is "nothing more painful than losing a child." I hope that's true, but I suspect it's not.

Some types of pain are "unspeakable." We humans are subconsciously aware of many kinds of pain, especially those resulting from injustice, that we would like to believe do not exist, are terrifying to contemplate, or tap into deeply personal insecurities. Unspeakable pain is to be avoided because it leaves us feeling either vulnerable or called to action, which in effect also makes us feel vulnerable because, among other things, we fear giving up the advantage or we fear we cannot make a difference.

Despite the denial, humans are in a predicament: We long for connection, but fear exposure.

Other types of pain are "speakable." They include, in some quarters and circumstances, reminiscing about childbirth, losing a job, public vomiting at parties, and mass lay-offs. These speakable forms of pain include pain caused by the death of a parent. Generally speaking, the death of a parent doesn't reflect poorly on an individual because it is considered universal. It is also orderly, so less threatening to our core sense of safety. Parents, unless there are bizarre circumstances involved, "should" die before their children. On a related note, the death of a parent is not unjust, so it doesn't create a call to action.

Because the loss of a parent is socially acceptable, people can come out of their private worlds and connect without too much vulnerability. We can feel, together and separately, but not so deeply that it is dangerous. This opportunity to share feelings on the public, or semi-public, level is a positive because we can only become fully who we are through vulnerability.

The truth is, we all know the truth. The unspeakable is like an elephant in our collective consciousness. Speaking things doesn't make them more true than they are, but it does change our perception, which changes everything. Once something is spoken, it is much harder to pretend it isn't there. That is why words are so powerful.

Most cultures do not reward vulnerability. We focus on survival, which often requires aggressive and "productive" behavior. Yet, like I said, we need vulnerability in order to fully express who we are and thus fully experience love and connection. Our vulnerability is what makes us human. The requirement to make courageous choices about our vulnerability is also what makes us human.

Speaking of humans. . . .

Is There Hope for Humanity?

Yes.

And no.

Sooner or later, humanity as we know it will come to an end. I'm not sure if we will die via suicide (human-induced climate change, pollution, resource depletion) or homicide (nuclear bombs, terrorism, financial terrorism) or whether humanity will end simply because the truth is that everything ends.

And yes.

With every action we take we make a choice. We can choose to get more conscious and courageous so that the unspeakable becomes speakable. Knowing our collective fate (Yes! You are going to die!), we can live each moment as if it were infinite (because it is) and as if feelings of vulnerability are an illusion (because they are; we are one).

Humans often speak (and act) out. I'm thinking of Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Jesus, Angela Davis, Eve Ensler, Rigoberta Menchú, and all the people who were openly kind to dear Kim when they honored the loss she experienced resulting from the death of her beloved father.

Lonely as we sometimes feel, and doomed though we are, we are not alone. There are always courageous people willing to take a stand, however small, for each of us.