$50,000 Angel

I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about the Gulf. Perhaps it was the drone of the news playing in the background this morning that had me thinking how ineffectual I felt. The word I like to use is impotent. I feel impotent. And I felt far away. The Gulf feels far. The floods in Tennessee feel far. And I feel removed. And truth is I am. I suppose I began to feel guilty that I haven’t taken these causes under my wing. I simply hear about them and feel powerless and yet do nothing. Even as I made my way to work, my reality of my profession couldn’t seem to pull me out of this sense of not doing enough. Preventing and treating breast cancer wasn’t enough; Nor were my other “causes du jour.” Years of volunteering with animal rescue couldn’t seem to console this sense of powerlessness I felt nor the fundraiser I began to help an injured friend. I can’t seem to do enough in a world that is seemingly falling apart.

Now I promise I am not getting “emo” on everyone here. But as I looked around me, there does seem to be injustices happening. Besides the injustices that are happening on a global scale, as I shrink my world to just that, my world, I couldn’t help but notice what hits so close to home. From the murder of my mentor by a single shot in the back, to the accidental injury that changed my friends life, to the termination of employment experienced by another for simply doing what she loves (burlesque),and to the extreme health decline of another. How could I do enough? There just is so much.

Perhaps my sense of impotence was stemming from the anger I feel as I sit with the awareness that there are people out there taking advantage of the kindness of our community. Yes, I am mad as I learned about the defrauding of my community through the solicitation of funds for a cause based in fantasy rather than reality. I jokingly said I was selfish that this situation was distracting people from donating to what I deemed a more worthy cause, my friends’ medical expenses. But was I being judgmental? So what if this other party skewed the facts of their situation for financial gain and empathy? Would those who would have donated to my little cause turn their attention away to assist in a personal vendetta in the form of a legal action? Did it really matter who was suing who? Why do I care that they are putting their hand out to line the pockets of their personal cause?

Sitting on Muni, I began to think that perhaps it’s my thinking that is flawed. Of course I am not enough. As I constantly turn to my own community asking for support, I know this. “Be the bra people” has been my tagline for years. So maybe I need to look outside myself to understand how through these 6 degrees of separation my community is making a difference in the world. We are able to look outside ourselves and practice what is known to me as “Tikkun Olam,” repairing the world. Ironically the first person that came to mind is a biker I know and a former skinhead. And while his facebook posts tend to predominantly reflect his punk rock values of “fuck everyone” he never ceases to surprise me with a government official’s address or phone number or most recently BP and a suggestion to be proactive. Or the daily facebook posts from a Little Darling I was fortunate enough to cross paths with as she continues her crusade to save pitbulls, one bullie at a time. Or my curly sister in New Orleans who was forever changed after Katrina. She moved from California to Louisiana just to be part of the solution, one child at a time. I am not enough.

I suppose as I go about my Wednesday, I am simply looking for the comfort that I impact a greater world through the actions of those around me. Or maybe this is a call to action. Doing nothing is not enough. I remember years ago backstage with The Fixx (a story for another time), I made one of the band member’s cry. I didn’t mean to and I am quite sure alcohol fueled the response. But he asked me what I did for a living. My answer was “saving the world one convict at a time.” I was running a literacy and creative writing program for parolees that I had started in San Francisco. My goal was to reduce recidivism by creating healthy options for those leaving the correctional system and to reunite families. He lamented he never did anything for anyone. My response was to put my hand out. I reminded him that I couldn’t do my work alone. For everyone on the ground, there’s an angel dropping a dollar in my pocket to keep the work going. He was a 50 thousand dollar angel.

And yes, I am looking for that $50k angel today just to make a dent in my tiny community, my community of friends. But I would settle for just encouraging everyone around me to take a moment to just do something. Write an email for a cause or write a check or play with the puppies at Animal Control. Or even add my cause of the day, the Whit’s Knee Fund. Just do something. Because it is all overwhelming when we wonder what we as individuals can do. But looking at what we all do, there’s a comfort there, so I hope people will comment and share.