Monday, December 17, 2012

At The Crossroads: Finding Meaning in Sorrow


When shocking things happen, we as individuals strive to understand. The tradgedy at New Town, Conneticut touches us all. I cannot be distant from this horrific event. Every person who has ever loved a child, a son, a daughter, niece, nephew, or dedicated themselves to working with children has a hollow feeling of loss in their hearts. My mind struggles to make sense of this—my thoughts wander through darkness trying to find meaning.
Grief for me is a cold, lonely thing and I just want to reach out and make the world warm again.
What happened is real to me. The news reports arouse memories of the years I spent working in the schools. The Sandy Hook educators are my kindred spirits. I know their days. The reading teacher, the school psychologist—their thoughts are my thoughts. The sights and sounds of the school day--the day’s routines—the aliveness and hopefulness in the children’s faces—the deep, peaceful joy of helping them learn gave meaning to my days. To be of service to children is a wonderful work---these educators are my kindred spirits.
I remember one of my own students, a blond, blue-eyed third grade boy, who never returned from the school holiday. His friend shot him. The boys had found his father’s loaded gun under the bed.
I think about the young Connecticut shooter. Not much is known about him. He is described as a child alone in the group of peers, someone vulnerable and at risk of peer influence. Home schooled because the school environment was too much for him. His babysitter states his mother said Adam should never be left alone. As a school psychologist, these statements are red flags to me. I wonder why Adam did not receive the services he needed. I speculate did he have an undiagnosed Pervasive Developmental Delay? These individuals are often very intelligent but when a thought consumes their thinking it becomes reality--they act and react totally unaware of logical consequences, or moral rightness.
Is this shooting tragedy the result of our gun-obsessed culture? We are a gun-addicted culture; addicts use crutches—alcohol, drugs, and sex—to feel in control of their lives. It is my belief that the gun obsessed cling to their guns out of fear of the unknown and an addiction to the head rush they get when firing their guns. Getting the gun obsessed to give up a gun will be as difficult as telling a junkie his survival depends on giving up dope.
I do not need a gun to feel safe, confident or powerful and I feel sorrow for those who do need a gun to cope with life. I was saddened and disgusted to hear a former US Secretary of Education say that every school should have an armed adult—that this would keep tragedy from occurring. Guns to counteract guns—violence to counter act violence. This idea pains my soul. I believe we are at a spiritual cross road the lighted road of hope and healing, or the dark road of reactionary fear.
I have always been drawn to John Donne’s poem No Man Is An Island.
No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thine own

Or of thine friend's were.

Each man's death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee.

How can we understand—make meaning of  this horrific tragedy? How can we help and heal? I remember reading Viktor Frankl’s book Man's Search for Meaning. In Frankl’s 1946 book he tells of his experiences as an inmate in concentration camp. He describes his self realized method of finding a reason to live, to continue. “We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms—to choose one’s own attitude in any given set of circumstances—to choose one’s own way.”
Frankl concludes that the meaning of life is found in every moment of living; life never ceases to have meaning, even in suffering and death. In a group therapy session during a mass fast inflicted on the camp's inmates trying to protect an anonymous fellow inmate from fatal retribution by authorities, Frankl offered the thought that for everyone in a dire condition there is someone looking down, a friend, family member, or even God, who would expect not to be disappointed. 

----A thought transfixed me: for the first time in my life I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth – that love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which man can aspire. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love and in love. I understood how a man who has nothing left in this world still may know bliss, be it only for a brief moment, in the contemplation of his beloved. In a position of utter desolation, when man cannot express himself in positive action, when his only achievement may consist in enduring his sufferings in the right way – an honorable way – in such a position man can, through loving contemplation of the image he carries of his beloved, achieve fulfillment. For the first time in my life I was able to understand the meaning of the words, "The angels are lost in perpetual contemplation of an infinite glory...."

Frankl suggests that there are things we can do to help ourselves, 1.)  Creativity or giving something to the world through self-expression, 2.) Experiencing the world by interacting authentically with our environment and with others, and 3.) Changing our attitude when we are faced with a situation or circumstance that we cannot change.
Suffering in and of itself is meaningless; we give our suffering meaning by the way in which we respond to it. At one point, Frankl writes that a person “may remain brave, dignified and unselfish, or in the bitter fight for self-preservation he may forget his human dignity and become no more than an animal.”
Frankl’s most enduring insight is--forces beyond one’s control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation. You cannot control what happens to you in life, but you can always control what you will feel and do about what happens to you.
How we choose to respond as a nation is a spiritual challange. May the Creator bless us and give us the strength to move forward with hope and love as we face building our tomorrow.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-man-is-an-island/

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