We’re one. Sometimes we forget, and get on with the dividing and sorting and fencing and grading and grouping, and I’m quick to say that such classification, in certain situations, is wise and necessary. But at the core–we’re one. One people. One race. That of the race called human. So then, as I watched on my computer screen this morning, from across the globe, a little Chilean boy, so hurt, so anxious, began to cry, and because we’re one, because we’re kin, I too cried. As no doubt, did you.
In this complex, rabid world where we jostle for rights and opportunity, where we scrape and claw and position ourselves for ascendancy, it is a good thing to be jerked into the glaring reality that we are one. It is good that the world is riveted to that cold desert in Chile, and that our hearts pound when another is raised from that dread dungeon, and that from thousands of miles away, we can cry with a little boy.
It is reported that as his dad was led away to be taken to the hospital, the child called. “Papi! Papi!” It breaks my heart, my human heart.