Tag Archives: humanity

fresh for everyone.

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Pete the Cat is in his bag and he feels safe in there.

this post is  dedicated to all of the farm workers out there

may they and their families be safe from harm

during this very challenging time

we see you and appreciate you 

 thank you for the hard work you do every day to bring food to all of us.

‘the people who give you their food give you their heart.’

-cesar chavez

*Cesario Estrada Chavez 1927-1993) was an American labor leader and civil rights activist. Along with Dolores Huerta and Gilbert Padilla, he co-founded the National Farm Workers Association (NFWA), which later merged with the Agricultural Workers Organizing Committee  (AWOC) to become the  United Farm Workers (UFW) labor union.

they are us.

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                                                                                   “Soul” by Ugo Rondinone, 2013

“Stick-to-itiveness” is now included in the dictionary. It’s about perseverance — whether we’re born with it or learn it. It’s about continuing to show up and doing what matters, even when you don’t feel like it, and especially when the world is yelling that you don’t matter, that you’re crazy, that who you think you are and what you have to say doesn’t matter. I’ve been thinking a lot about what matters and why I care so much when someone feels what I think doesn’t matter. Why do we keep having to learn, again and again, that we get to choose what we care about? Today, as I listened to Erin Brockovich tell her story, I was reminded that thinking differently is beautiful, and whatever we think, feel, and care about is valid and matters. It is our responsibility to amplify what we care about. There is no special reward for conformity of thought or action, but there is an internal reward for expressing the uniqueness of who we are.

Ugo Rondinone made a series of stone figures in a variety of sizes for his exhibition Soul in 2013. Each one is different, but they have a visual uniformity, as if they’re all from the same humanity. When you look closely, though, their heads sit slightly differently on their bodies, their legs are longer or shorter, their torsos are thin or thick. They are us. And we are them.

 -Heidi Zuckerman,  CEO and director of the Orange County Museum of Art and author of Why Art Matters: The Bearable Lightness of Being.​

 

Installation view, Ugo Rondinone, soul, Galerie Eva Presenhuber, Maag Areal, Zurich, 2013. Courtesy of the artist.

Photo: Stefan Altenburger

woven together.

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This drawing is by Anja Rozen, a 13-year-old primary school student in Slovenia.

She was chosen from 600,000 children around the world

to create a piece of art to show what peace looks like.

She is the winner of the international Plakat Miru competition.

“My drawing represents the land that binds us and unites us.”

“Humans are woven together.

If someone gives up, others fall.

We are all connected to our planet and to each other,

but unfortunately we are little aware of it.

We are woven together.

Other people weave alongside me my own story; and I weave theirs,”

said the young designer.

‘the cause of freedom and the cause of peace are bound together.’

-Leon Blum, three-time Prime Minister of France

 

humanity.

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our class of 3’s-4’s

met with their learning partners

a 4th grade class

and together

they read a book

learned about what Dr. King

stood for and fought for

in his own peaceful way

talked about

what love, fairness, equality

meant to them

then created

a lovely art piece together

each to become a square

in a large paper quilt

created by the whole school

a beautiful collaboration.

 

“make a career of humanity.

commit yourself to the noble struggle for equal rights.

you will make a better person of yourself,

a greater nation of your country, and a finer world to live in.”

-Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  – March for Integrated Schools, April 18, 1959.

the holdovers.

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after seeing the trailer for this film

i really thought it was going to be a comedy

it did have its funny moments and lines

as the movie played out

 it was so much more

the trio of lead actors were brilliant

the characters

interacted

 revealed themselves

learned about each other

   personal stories emerged

in ways unexpected, tragic, and beautiful

 finding something in each other

perhaps they didn’t even know they needed

but oh, did they ever

because as their understanding

of their humanity

with all of its flaws and challenges

came to the forefront

they chose grace

each was made the better for it

and forever changed.

“the moment we cry in a film is not when things are sad

but when they turn out to be more beautiful than we expected them to be.”

-alain de botton

 

image credit: miramax films, focus features

try to be kinder.

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In May of 2013, celebrated author and MacArthur ‘genius’ George Saunders took the podium at Syracuse University and delivered a masterpiece of bequeathable wisdom, the commencement address. A year later it was adapted in “Congratulations, by the way: Some Thoughts on Kindness”, designed and hand lettered by Chelsea Cardinal.

With his gentle wisdom and disarming warmth, Saunders manages to dissolve some of our most deeply engrained culturally conditioned cynicism into a soft and expansive awareness of the greatest gift one human being can give another — those sacred exchanges that take place in a moment of time, often mundane and fleeting, but echo across a lifetime with inextinguishable luminosity.

I’d say, as a goal in life, you could do worse than: Try to be kinder.

In seventh grade, this new kid joined our class. In the interest of confidentiality, her name will be “ELLEN.” ELLEN was small, shy. She wore these blue cat’s-eye glasses that, at the time, only old ladies wore. When nervous, which was pretty much always, she had a habit of taking a strand of hair into her mouth and chewing on it.

So she came to our school and our neighborhood, and was mostly ignored, occasionally teased (“Your hair taste good?” — that sort of thing). I could see this hurt her. I still remember the way she’d look after such an insult: eyes cast down, a little gut-kicked, as if, having just been reminded of her place in things, she was trying, as much as possible, to disappear. After awhile she’d drift away, hair-strand still in her mouth. At home, I imagined, after school, her mother would say, you know: “How was your day, sweetie?” and she’d say, “Oh, fine.” And her mother would say, “Making any friends?” and she’d go, “Sure, lots.”

Sometimes I’d see her hanging around alone in her front yard, as if afraid to leave it.

And then — they moved. That was it. No tragedy, no big final hazing.

One day she was there, next day she wasn’t.

End of story.

Now, why do I regret that? Why, forty-two years later, am I still thinking about it? Relative to most of the other kids, I was actually pretty nice to her. I never said an unkind word to her. In fact, I sometimes even (mildly) defended her.

But still. It bothers me.

So here’s something I know to be true, although it’s a little corny, and I don’t quite know what to do with it:

What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.

Those moments when another human being was there, in front of me, suffering, and I responded … sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.

Or, to look at it from the other end of the telescope: Who, in your life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth?

Those who were kindest to you, I bet.

But kindness, it turns out, is hard — it starts out all rainbows and puppy dogs, and expands to include . . . well, everything.

 

 

credits: Maria Popova, Chelsea Cardinal, George Saunders

anxious people.

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what a funny, sweet, sad, moving book –

 a brilliant story of  the enduring power

of human connection, forgiveness, and hope.  

“we have all of this in common, yet most of us remain strangers, we never know what we do to each other, how your life is affected by mine. perhaps we hurried past each other in a crowd today, and neither of us noticed, and the fibers of your coat brushed against mine for a single moment and then we were gone. i don’t know who you are. but when you get home this evening, when this day is over and the night takes us, allow yourself a deep breath. because we made it through this day as well. there’ll be another one along tomorrow.”

-fredrik backman (anxious people)

*good planets.

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good planets are hard to find

 

on earth day 2023

photo credit: earthtalk

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sow the seeds.

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The image of the child musician crying was classified as one of the most emotional photographs of modern history. This photo was taken of a 12-year-old Brazilian boy (Diego Frazzo Turkato), playing the violin at the funeral of his teacher who rescued him from the environment of poverty and crime in which he lived.

In this image, humanity speaks with the strongest voice in the world:

“Cultivate love and kindness in a child to sow the seeds of compassion. And only then you will build a great civilization, a great nation “.  – dalai lama

credits: Photographer: Marcos Tristao

“what wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?”

-jean-jacque rousseau

small kindnesses.

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I’ve been thinking about the way,

when you walk down a crowded aisle,

people pull in their legs to let you by.

Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes,

a leftover from the Bubonic plague.

“Don’t die,” we are saying.

And sometimes,

when you spill lemons from your grocery bag,

someone else will help you pick them up.

Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.

We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,

and to say thank you to the person handing it.

To smile at them and for them to smile back.

For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,

and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.

We have so little of each other, now.

So far from tribe and fire.

Only these brief moments of exchange.

What if they are the true dwelling of the holy,

these fleeting temples we make together when we say,

“Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”

by Danusha Lameris, Small Kindnesses

 

 Danusha Laméris is a poet, teacher, and essayist. She is the author of The Moons of August (Autumn House, 2014), which was chosen by Naomi Shihab Nye as the winner of the Autumn House Press poetry prize and was a finalist for the Milt Kessler Book Award. Some of her poems have been published in: The Best American Poetry, The New York Times, The American Poetry Review, Prairie Schooner, The SUN Magazine, Tin House, The Gettysburg Review, and Ploughshares.