There is something that's been in the forefront of my mind for a few days, and I can't seem to let it go, so I've decided to write about it and share it, because writing is usually cathartic for me and sort of like throwing my thoughts into the wind. Here it goes.
I ran a 5K race for a breast cancer charity with a bunch of female colleagues while on Guys and Dolls. It was one of the best days of my life -- we were surrounded by thousands of people with this immense positive energy and we all shared the same goal: to make a difference. In a world where the reality is that people are dying of starvation, knife attacks, and terrorism, it was incredibly moving to see all types of women running, strangers pushing each other on when tiredness struck, husbands, sons, and fathers wildly supporting and cheering on their wives, mothers, and daughters. The whole day left me feeling overwhelmed with a new sense of hope for the human race. It was a reminder that there ARE many many good people in this world.
The other day, a colleague of mine who ran the 5K with me, completed the London 10K race, and she was talking about her wonderful experience. Among the many things she mentioned, she spoke of this blind man who had run the entire 10K race with his hand on his friend's shoulder for guidance. I still don't know why, but as soon as I heard that, I burst into tears. I was in the middle of putting my show make up on, and really tried not to cry, but something inside me unhinged, and out came this intense emotion, and with it, a floodgate of tears. I still don't know if it was sadness or happiness. Had I not had a show to get ready for, I think I would have sobbed for a good 10 minutes. This image of this blind man running with the help of his friend won't leave me. Who is he? Who is his friend? What are their stories? I keep thinking about them and can't let them go. I'm not sure if their image inspires me, or haunts me, or both.
There is only one other image that has stayed with me in the same way...
A few years ago I went to Lisboa for 6 weeks with Miss Saigon. I saw many beautiful things and there was so much about the city that was delightful. At the same time, I saw that the city was also seeped with poverty. Many days I would walk by myself to see different parts of the city, and I saw things that hurt me. The saddest of all, the thing that made me cry for a few days, was a beggar who looked like he had Elephantitis, though I can't be sure. I had NEVER seen anything like his face in all my life, not even in horror movies. The growths on his face were so huge that, from a distance, I couldn't make out any features...his eyes, nose, and mouth had disappeared under his disease. During a show, I asked one of my dressers about him, I wanted to know everything about him, and she told me that he had a son that was killed by a car. That killed me. I started to cry backstage for him, for his sad fate, and I knew I wanted to do something, but I didn't know what, and eventually I decided to go and give him some money and talk to him. There was so much I wanted to ask him. I am so ashamed to say that I couldn't even get close to him, I was so scared and horrified of seeing his face close up. I was so ANGRY with myself, I felt like I had been tested and that I'd failed. What kind of person did that make me? So I gathered up my courage and went back to finally give him the money, and he wasn't there. I went back a few more times but I never saw him again. To this day, I struggle with my weakness, and it's something that I hate about myself, that I didn't have the courage to go give this man some money because I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I hate myself for it, and I still think about him, wonder how he's doing, wonder if he has family, wonder if he's happy. I wish so hard that I had made a different choice and not walked away from him, but I did and will always feel guilty for it.
This blind man running a 10K race for charity, and this beggar with Elephantitis are images that I will carry with me forever. I'm tired of being a person who does nothing but gets up onstage and sings and dances, I'm tired of hearing stories like these and feeling a pain in my heart and STILL not doing anything about it. I keep saying that one day, I will give it all up and do SOMETHING to make a difference...if I'm totally honest, I'm terrified of not making a difference...but will I really do it? I talk talk talk talk but I never DO, and does that make me a hypocrite? Maybe I'm weaker than I want to be, maybe I will never have the guts, I don't know. I really really hope that I will become the sort of person I want to be and do these things I talk about.
For now, what do I do? I've been really frustrated and stressed over relatively trivial things over the past few days, and I usually don't let myself succomb to life's follies so easily. But this time, I let myself not be okay for a little while, and maybe I shouldn't have. Because there is a man with no face who sits in a square in Lisboa who lost a son and who begs for money, and he wakes up everyday and gets on with his life. And there is a blind man who has an amazing friend, and together, they did something for the good of others. They will continue to haunt me and inspire me and remind me that I have far to much to feel sorry for myself, and maybe the inspiration that they have unknowingly given me will grow so big, that I will finally have the strength to be as strong as they are and give something back. Until that happens, I will keep them in my thoughts and my heart, they are my heros. I hope their stories have touched you in the way they touched me...
"I wanna know the things they told me way back then were really so. I wanna make a little mark before I go. Not barely just get by. I wanna fly."
-- Ricky Ian Gordon
copyright (c) 2010-2011 Celia Mei Rubin
