Tears of Beauty: One

ONE.
A week ago, I tumbled down the marble steps at Grand Central in the beginning swell of rush hour. The neighbor accompanying me and I were sharing our impressions of the meeting we had just attended. Between the conversation,  the upcoming bodies, and my feet negotiating steps, the latter came up way short. For days after, my mind replayed that instant when I realized I’d lost my grounding, a free-fall imminent. The terror came back each time. It was the last thing I remembered until I landed; alert, thankfully.

Faces, bodies encircled me. A woman bent over and asked, “Do you want us to call an ambulance?” I said, “No, I just need a moment.” One guy in shorts and neutral colors, his facial expression somewhat grim said, “I’m a doctor.” By this time, I had been able to stand up. Another guy, in a crew neck, bright yellow shirt, younger, or maybe with fuller affect than the doctor, asked, “Would you like us to lock elbows with you on each side to accompany you down the rest of the steps?”

I gratefully accepted.

As we met each step in deliberate fashion, I shared my experience of having so many people around, looking down at me, how strange it feels. I recalled a fall two years ago in a crowded market, when I misjudged the space to step over a big bag on the floor. I was encircled by a smaller crowd of people, asking if I needed help getting up. They meant well, but I told them “I just need to be for a few moments,” then saying to my lively escort, “I just can’t pop up, I need to see where I am in  my body.” As I relayed this story, the guy in the yellow shirt connected with my sentiment in an animated way; we laughed together.

We reached the main floor of Grand Central and I turned to face both men.  “Thank you,” I said, my hand to my heart.  And as I gingerly walked towards the train track (assuming that meant I had not broken any 75 year old bone in my Black body), I said to my companion, “That was so beautiful. I feel like crying.”

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Personal acts of kindness sweeten our lives. But alone, they cannot dismantle any system of supremacy. They are loving, thoughtful, relieving moments, months or longer that bear witness to a basic human goodness and shared humanity. 

Can we value, love (un-harming) all kinds of people, like we do with flowers? Without rankings or other structures of being better than. Favorites are one thing but systems of supremacy are structured to empower and institutionalize favorite groups of people, the privileged, at the expense and neglect of the whole. We can instead marvel at the festival of splashing designs, textures and pigments. We fertilize the entire garden, not  just certain sections.

Can we behold magnificence in others without feeling diminished, threatened, or wanting to score from or subjugate it? We commit to actions to dismantle systems kept in place to keep power and privilege in the hands of a few at the expense and exploitation of others and their well-being. We act to honor the well-being and ceaseless offerings of the Earth to all lifeforms. We join the circle of reciprocity. 

That is what it means to me to be civilized and to be a civilization.