Dear Friends, Family, Neighbors, and Those of You I Don’t Yet Know —
Happy summer solstice, a little bit early. In the Northern Hemisphere at least, tomorrow will be the longest day of the year. In Fairbanks, Alaska, it won’t get dark at all. The sun will rise at about one in the morning, and won’t set again for 22 hours. There will be enough light to read by at any hour of the day. Down here where I live, the sun will rise at a quarter to six, and at 9:00 p.m., there will still be some light — enough for an evening stroll or a last game of kickball among the neighborhood kids. I love summer. And the longest day of the year, in particular, makes my heart beat high.
In this issue of Odd Company, I want to consider the sticky business of when to help, and how. It’s on my mind for several reasons, not least of which is the behavior of the police during the shooting at Uvalde, Texas a few weeks ago. More recently, I read a commentary somewhere about “how to decide when to help.” It was written by a young resident of New York City, who lives in an apartment with roommates, in a building with many other apartments and very thin walls. Which is to say, she hears everyone’s arguments, not to mention their coughs and farts, and they hear hers. It sounds as if, in circumstances like those, privacy is mainly a matter of curtains and noise-cancelling headphones. But every now and then, there are sounds of a real fight, complete with thumps and screams. How can she decide when to try to help and when to mind her own business?
The urge to help others is deeply ingrained in human beings. There is evidence that Neanderthals cared for their aged and infirm — the remains of a man who lived to old age with terrible, debilitating injuries sustained many years before he died. He could only have lived with help from companions. So it’s no surprise that there are literally thousands of pieces of music that celebrate the importance of helping others. For tonight’s musical interlude, I’ve chosen a song by a singer-songwriter and guitarist who was born in the British West Indies but was raised largely in England. She has a voice like none other. Here is the amazing Joan Armatrading with “Willow,” a song about an open offer of help, probably written in the late 1970’s. “Whatever you want me to/ All you gotta do is ask.”
This reminds me of an amusing story about a wealthy American philanthropist who donated some computers to residents of a small village in Africa. When he traveled to the village to see how his gift had changed life in the village, he discovered that the only power source was a diesel generator, mainly used to run a refrigerator. Knowing he was on his way, they had unplugged the refrigerator and plugged in the computers. But one of the villagers spilled the beans by telling the truth about the situation. The computers were rarely used, because it was always a choice between using them or keeping food and medical supplies cold. The refrigerator was much more important than the computers, which were mainly seen as toys. The philanthropist’s heart was in the right place. But the villagers hadn’t asked him for help, and he hadn’t asked them what they needed. He had just assumed…
In the Applied Compassion class, we learned that the urge to care for and nurture others is an evolved survival trait. We are a species whose young are normally born only one or two at a time after a very long gestation period. Our babies are helpless and vulnerable for a long time after birth, requiring a lot of time and effort on the parts of both parents, with very little material gain. Nature helped us along by making this care-taking physically rewarding for us. When we help someone, we get a little hit of oxytocin, sometimes known as the “love hormone.” It engages our sympathetic nervous system and heightens our ability to make decisions. It boosts our immune system and decreases inflammatory substances in the body. In short, it makes us feel great.
Bonding with others is hugely important to us, not just as a species, but also as individuals. If we have trouble forming good, strong relationships, our risk for disease and chronic illness goes up. Ongoing loneliness causes our immune cells to become over-active, leading to all sorts of inflammatory diseases including heart disease, cancer, and autoimmune disorders. In short, we just don’t feel right unless we are nurturing at least a few close relationships. And when we actively help someone, it feels wonderful.
But in the same class, we also learned that “helping” can take a lot of different forms. Sometimes we’re asked to take action. Other times, we are most helpful when we simply listen with an open heart as someone vents or weeps. How do we decide when to help and how best to help?
My inimitable counselor, who goes by Theo in these pages, is fond of a particular quip that goes something like, Why are you angry at me? I never tried to help you. The idea being that sometimes trying to help just makes matters worse. What’s a compassionate person to do?
It’s all very complicated, of course. There’s really no way to simplify it. But one good guideline is to do what Joan Armatrading does in her song. Offer help. Put the offer of “shelter in a storm” out there, and wait for the other person to say whether they want your help, and when. Since my husband has become so ill, we’ve received many offers of this sort, and we always appreciate them. Even if we can’t take people up on them immediately, it’s an enormous comfort knowing there are folks in the wings who are ready to help when we need it, as we surely will. All we have to do is say the word.
Well, the kitties have had a somewhat traumatic day of vaccinations and reactions. They are a little bit clingy and inclined to walk on the keyboard. So I think I’d better end here. Tonight’s adieu offering is a poem I wrote a couple of weeks ago. I think i was Mahatma Gandhi who said, “Live as if you will die tomorrow.” See you after the solstice!
DON’T WAIT
What do you think?
That there will always be more
days like this, perfect,
blue, green, specked with flowers,
blond and pink in the long slope
toward summer?
That there will always be more
summers, young trees tipped
with bright new growth,
lavender humming with bees,
the breeze scented and sweet?
The cat lies warm and sleeping
in sunlight. I say
reach down and stroke her fur
now, don’t wait.
In an instant you might be
called home, the cat be called
to the maker of cats,
the mild sun explode in a ball
of fire and glory.
Love now. Don’t wait.
First thanks for making me aware of Joan Armatrading. An amazing voice.
The anecdote about the computer reminded me of something someone told me a long time ago, a wise rephrasing of the Golden Rule: Do unto others as they would have you do unto them.
Very moving poem, Nancy.