"Mommy, I'm OK, but all my friends are dead." - 6 year old survivor, Sandy Hook Elementary School, December 14th, 2012.
Courage.
It is not a display of strength, rather an acknowledgement of humility.
In Courage, we learn of fear; Courage we find when faced with hate, pain, sadness, anger.
In Courage, I acknowledge emotion, acknowledge weakness and know the truth that something outside of me, can hold me, move me but it can never conquer that immutable inimitable me that is here, now and eternal.
2012 has given me this gift of knowledge. I know now that I know nothing of Courage.
Before this dawn, I was increasingly pompous; believing I am the brave, walking alongside the brave. With every pain conquered, I congratulated myself on my ability to survive. After all, isn't it quite enough to be dealt with change, death, separation, illness, love, loss... and still not have forgotten to smile?
With such naive ramblings, convinced of my invincibility, I undertook the "Borscht" journey. The tasks appeared to be quite daunting ...not for the faint of the heart, I boasted! I delegated as much of the work as I could, putting of the final moments of opening the foil and touching the blood red beets, indelibly staining my hands. I trembled in fear gazing at the post-Borscht nightmarish counters and floors. But blood washes away; the counters restored to like new again, and I greedily grabbed credit for the Borscht, an unparalleled success.
And then it was time to serve the soup. I looked around and within, and wondered who would be worthy of a seat at His table, to partake of a true covenant of blood and courage? Not I, not I.
That teacher, who shielded her 6yr old children from death at the cost of her own life. Yes, her. Those children who huddled together in strength when faced with a fear they knew nothing of, yes them. Those parents who can still breathe, love and forgive, yes them. Nirbhaya, who didn't lose her light and her will to live, despite being touched by the hands of evil, yes her. Yes them, all of them and countless of them who know not just an "I", but who have found the oneness of us. And only oneness can be served to them, as truth, love and humanity.
If I could make such a Borscht every day and every night, from scratch, without help, without fear and serve it to all those whose light is a beacon of hope..... perhaps one day the color of my blood could be the same as theirs.
"I want to live" - Damini, the fearless 'Nirbhaya', New Delhi, December 2012 and for all time.
[For the authentic Borscht recipe used in my experiments with the beets, visit - http://russianmomcooks.com/2012/04/06/borsch/]
Courage.
It is not a display of strength, rather an acknowledgement of humility.
In Courage, we learn of fear; Courage we find when faced with hate, pain, sadness, anger.
In Courage, I acknowledge emotion, acknowledge weakness and know the truth that something outside of me, can hold me, move me but it can never conquer that immutable inimitable me that is here, now and eternal.
2012 has given me this gift of knowledge. I know now that I know nothing of Courage.
Before this dawn, I was increasingly pompous; believing I am the brave, walking alongside the brave. With every pain conquered, I congratulated myself on my ability to survive. After all, isn't it quite enough to be dealt with change, death, separation, illness, love, loss... and still not have forgotten to smile?
With such naive ramblings, convinced of my invincibility, I undertook the "Borscht" journey. The tasks appeared to be quite daunting ...not for the faint of the heart, I boasted! I delegated as much of the work as I could, putting of the final moments of opening the foil and touching the blood red beets, indelibly staining my hands. I trembled in fear gazing at the post-Borscht nightmarish counters and floors. But blood washes away; the counters restored to like new again, and I greedily grabbed credit for the Borscht, an unparalleled success.
And then it was time to serve the soup. I looked around and within, and wondered who would be worthy of a seat at His table, to partake of a true covenant of blood and courage? Not I, not I.
That teacher, who shielded her 6yr old children from death at the cost of her own life. Yes, her. Those children who huddled together in strength when faced with a fear they knew nothing of, yes them. Those parents who can still breathe, love and forgive, yes them. Nirbhaya, who didn't lose her light and her will to live, despite being touched by the hands of evil, yes her. Yes them, all of them and countless of them who know not just an "I", but who have found the oneness of us. And only oneness can be served to them, as truth, love and humanity.
If I could make such a Borscht every day and every night, from scratch, without help, without fear and serve it to all those whose light is a beacon of hope..... perhaps one day the color of my blood could be the same as theirs.
"I want to live" - Damini, the fearless 'Nirbhaya', New Delhi, December 2012 and for all time.
[For the authentic Borscht recipe used in my experiments with the beets, visit - http://russianmomcooks.com/2012/04/06/borsch/]
Beautifully written, Kusum. Thank you for sharing your words.
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading my ramblings, Julie! I was struggling to get the words out after all the news in December. Anything would sound trite in the face of those tragedies, but still I had to write so I could face them.
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