Watch this short video before reading further.
Last night, I almost didn't take my boys to the library for a viewing of this documentary. That would have been a huge loss.
I completely forgot there was even a viewing to attend, too wrapped up in my own concerns; wondering if anyone else would comment on a poem I posted in the morning, feeling tired at the thought of doing dishes, trying to remain confident that the children in our theater company will rock opening night in less than three weeks, feeling grateful I was able to talk for two and a half hours with a friend who lives almost 1,000 miles away, wishing spring were already here.
A couple hours before the program my mom called to ask if I was planning on taking the kids. To what? The movie. Movie?
Then I remembered. A faint shadow of understanding whispered, “Go for the boys,” as if I would merely come along to enable their enrichment.
I knew we were going to see a documentary about a band comprised of twenty eight people with varying challenges; autism, down syndrome, blindness, cerebral palsy. But there was no way to expect the triumph they celebrated.
An ASL interpreter was at the front of the room, translating opening remarks, summarizing the show we were about to watch. I looked around. “Too many empty seats,” I thought, forgetting our three seats had almost been unoccupied. “We all care,” I reasoned. “How do we reach people who need to know what their fellow human beings are capable of?” This question, unanswered, often leaves me feeling discouraged the moment it passes through my mind. I was beginning to shift from the “this will be good for my kids” mentality to “I need to shut up and learn.”
I believe in people. I believe nearly every one of us is potentially a genius as long as we're given proper support, guidance, and encouragement; challenged to reach our best; and treated with infinite patience and unconditional love. I believe this is true regardless of any label or condition we may be identified with. Yet I was blown away, moved to tears many times, by the quality of the music that The Spirit of Goodwill creates, the member's individual family and work stories, and the way the band director treated his members with complete respect, expecting no less than the best.
How easily we notice what is missing, not quite right, what we are bad at or can not manage to do, what our children lack, their faults. But this is the absence and not the substance. We can not throw dark on light but we can walk into a dark room with a candle, so small, yet illuminating a space much larger than itself. Does this mean we should ignore our weakness, flaws, defects and challenges, skipping though the tulips singing, "If you're happy and you know it wiggle your ears," pretending our challenges don't exist? No. Such knowledge is necessary to keep a balanced perspective, to know where we must begin taking baby steps, a marker to look back on to help us gauge our forward progress as well as knowledge to keep us safe; it's like realizing that a blind man shouldn't drive a car, no matter how much he's willing to practice.
But what do we so often do? We focus on how life would be better if...
We made $20,000 more a year, had a clean house, more energy, better health, younger bones, nicer children, a more considerate spouse, a life partner that completes us, no more debt, if we hadn't been abused by our parents, insulted by teachers, lied to and tormented by our siblings, and a hundred other very real challenges that truly can impede our progress to a hoped-for life of happiness. I know too well how crippling some of these realities can be. I believe we also mistakenly focus on a "disabled" people's disabilities as the primary qualities determining if they are going to have a good and productive life and how much they will be able to contribute to society or drain its resources (as if anyone could really know). "The Spirit of Goodwill" band blows this idea out of the water.
Here's the major insight I came away with last night: either we are all disabled or we are all abled, depending whether we focus on our capacity and possibilities for development or on our lack of certain abilities.
Tuesday, I listed five flaws I perceive in myself. In honor of The Spirit of Goodwill Band and all they have accomplished since 1996 and all they will surely contribute to the well being of anyone who has the privilege of hearing their music and learning their story, I offer a list of my strengths and personal battles won in my almost forty years on the planet and I hope you'll do the same.
I am generous.
I am a good teacher, currently using this gift to teach my own children and as part of a thriving children's theater company I helped start.
I have almost learned gratitude as a default response to negative stress.
I have learned to consider and respect other people's feelings (quite a feat for this only child).
I am a high quality gluten free baker (fooling those who don't know the wheat is missing).
I am a loyal friend.
My children enjoy spending time with me, laugh at my jokes and know my husband and I see their contributions to family life and the world as valuable.
I have learned the value of giving my best, even when I want my best to be better, risking criticism even though I know it will hurt. (I used to hide my light lest it get trampled.)
I can unpack and decorate after a move faster than almost anyone I know.
I am passionate about the value of art/creativity.
I love chocolate.
What are your strengths, especially those that are the flip side of past weaknesses? I challenge each of us to write a post about our abilities, what we are good at, what we offer that enriches our world. Let's celebrate our abilities. Open Call!
Posted by heidi at January 28, 2011 03:43 PM