Losing sight

A few weeks ago I posted my thoughts on acts of violence and the taking of lives. How we have lost sight of one another, not seeing each other for who we are as mother, daughter, father, son, grandfather...human. This blindness is destructive and evil.

No matter your religious or political beliefs, the killing of George Tiller is an atrocity. A father and grandfather was gunned down in the lobby of his church. His church. The place many hold sacred and safe. His wife, children, and grandchildren are left alone to carry on in their grief and loss.

This all brought to mind my posting regarding Vinny's death and a passage from a book I read during the spring semester, Ben Okri's The Famished Road. The story of an abiku child, an African spirit child, named Azaro. In the opening page of the novel, Azaro points out why many abiku children do not like to be born into this world...

There was not one amongst us who looked forward to being born. We disliked the rigours of existence, the unfulfilled longings, the enshrined injustices of the world, the labyrinths of love, the ignorance of parents, the fact of dying, and the amazing indifference of the Living in the midst of the simple beauties of the universe. We feared the heartlessness of human beings, all of whom are born blind, few of whom ever learn to see.

I always figured it was the opposite. That we are born with sight, the sight of a child full of innocence and expectation, and we become blinded or choose to be blind through our actions, our decisions, our teachings. Or is it, as Azaro believes, that we are blind at birth and that we must learn to see? Truly see.

Either way, I can think of no worse affliction.

Comments

[Chandra]

On Sunday morning, I sat stunned at this news. I didn't even know what to do with myself.

I wish we could have shared our disbelief over a cup of coffee yesterday morning.

As sad as it is, your writings about death have probably been my favorite.