Are You Guys Brothers?

     A paean is a song of joyful exultation or praise. It’s pronounced like the last two syllables of the word “European.” When a friend used the word “paean” in a recent e-mail to describe my latest book, I had to look it up to see if I was being complimented or criticized. I decided it was a compliment.

     A few days ago, as Ray and I were sitting side by side at the dining table, looking out at Provincetown Harbor, and enjoying a lunch of fresh fruit and low fat cottage cheese, I imagined the gaunt faces and emaciated bodies of starving children sitting in the empty seats around my table. I also imagined each child watching me as I lifted a piece of fruit from my plate to my mouth. I didn’t imagine them hating or resenting me for eating the fruit, only wishing that they could do so too.

     I’m deeply troubled by the horrors of world hunger, so when I’m enjoying the sweetness of a grape or a slice of pear, I feel the need to remind myself that there are millions of children and adults in the world who at that moment would give anything for the temporary pleasure and comfort of eating a small piece of fresh fruit instead of garbage, bugs, or dirt. You may feel that I’m ruining my meal with these mental images, but on the contrary, I find that in reminding myself of what I have, compared to the lives of others, I enhance my meal by accepting the obligation to “be in the moment,” to be thankful, and to savor each precious bite rather than eat quickly while I think about mowing the lawn.  Not to give thanks and enjoy the moment when I’m aware that there are other beings like me who are starving is the epitome of callous indifference.

     My reason for writing here about my awareness of the unfairness of privilege is that I want to pen a paean to spring but in the context of good fortune. I love my life. I love sharing my joy about it with others. It makes me very happy when something I say prompts someone else to think about the joy of his or her life so that they too are moved to write, speak or sing a paean. But I know that not everyone can create a song of joyful exaltation and praise about his or her life. I also know that hunger is not the only obstacle to celebration.

    That being said, spring, especially as I experience it in this small fishing village at the tip of Cape Cod, can feed my soul like no other time of the year. How can my heart not sing when it witnesses the budding of trees in the brilliant, fresh green color that can be seen only at this time of year? How can I not be deeply moved by the sight of life-forms poking their tiny heads through the soil and daily emerging into manifestations of magnificence? Like the whales that we know will return each year to Cape Cod Bay to feed and raise their calves, perennial plants keep coming back to life year after year with an eagerness to live fully. On our long walk through the sand dunes this morning, Ray reminded me that gardening is an important form of my meditation. Creating a palette of living color – this year it is in pinks, purples, and white – is as satisfying to me as writing a good book, speaking effectively to an audience, or decorating a room. 

     Each day for us is an opportunity to experience an extraordinary beauty in nature and to feel a thrill in our lives. The thrill can be as simple as deeply inhaling the incomparable scent of lilac, or as dramatic as taking the boat out and having it be surrounded by scores of dolphins, some leading us, some following, and others seemingly just showing off. A short while later, on the same outing last week, we came within fifty yards of the largest whale in the world, surfacing and diving in its search for food. Besides the Finback, we also saw a Humpback mother whale and its calf and two small Minky whales. How can I not sing a song of joyful exaltation to myself and to our friends after such an experience?

     I give the wrong impression if it appears I think that hungry people can’t express or feel paeans in their hearts. Just as people with everything in life can be incapable of feeling joy or gratitude, it must also be true that the impoverished families throughout the world are fully capable of being grateful for the good experiences of their lives. It’s just that I’m aware that I have a better chance of having a longer list of blessings than they might.

     Once again, this doesn’t stop me from feeling giddy when my attention falls on a manifestation of goodness in my life, or from creating a song of joyful exultation. What it does mean is that I don’t take my life for granted, and besides inviting images of the less fortunate to my table, Ray and I also feel grateful to be able to financially support the efforts of groups such as Doctors Without Borders and the Heifer Foundation. They’re helping others in the world create lives that feel more fully blessed and worthy of song.

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D - My Name is Diversity

     When I was a youngster living in Flint, Michigan, I was very good at jump rope. I was also good at hopscotch, and jacks, but that’s another story. When we played jump rope, my girl friends and I would keep rhythm for ourselves by singing through the alphabet. I would sing, “A - my name is Alan and my wife’s name is Alice. We come from Alabama with a carload of apples. B - my name is Brian and my wife’s name is Betty. We come from Buffalo with a carload of bananas. C - my name….” You get the picture.

     (To finish reading this offering, please go to http://glbtatwork.blog.com or www.brian-mcnaught.com)