The Healing Web
Stories > The Healing Web

by Vickie Cammack

Human relations are vital to our individual and collective happiness. We need to engage and connect. We need to be inconvenienced, dropped on, surprised and called upon.
      - Laura Pappano

In our work over the past decade we have discovered two powerful truths. First, in spite of what we are told about living in a 'global village' there are growing numbers of isolated and lonely people around us. Second, when people who are isolated are offered opportunities to meet others, everyone benefits. Each time a person moves from isolation to connection our neighbourhoods become safer, our communities more vibrant and our society more cohesive. Given the enormity of the challenges we face in these infant years of the twenty-first century, building relationships, strengthening human bonds, and expanding our capacity to care for one another are crucial acts. Our collective task is to end the poverty of loneliness. It is to learn to care for each other.

We live in an extraordinary moment on earth. We possess the capacity to have relationships with people living anywhere on the planet. As satellites circle the globe beaming human-to-human messages across continents and communities we can connect almost instantaneously with anyone, anywhere. Our cellular telephones put us in immediate touch with our families, our work, our friends, no matter where we might be. Our computers, many of which now fit in our pockets, connect us instantly to the World Wide Web.

Surrounded as we are by technological links and connections, who among us could have imagined the deep loneliness so many people experience in our hyper-connected world? In a time of unparalleled opportunity to communicate with each other we find ourselves living in a time of relational poverty. While we don't think twice about hopping on planes or driving long distances to visit friends in faraway places, we frequently cannot put a face or name to our neighbours. A recent study by the Search Institute of America found that sixty per cent of youth do not know someone well enough in their neighbourhood to ask for help if they need it.

While we are told the world is shrinking, it feels like distancing and disconnection are shaping modern life. Psychologists report record levels of depression and anxiety. Some researchers report an epidemic of loneliness. The irony of this epidemic is that unlike many human diseases, it is transmitted through a lack of human-to-human contact. We are of course all lonely and anxious at times, but too much turns into isolation. When we are isolated we become vulnerable in a host of ways. Our health is affected, our choices diminished, our information limited.

Beyond these instrumental effects is the spiritual toll that a lack of relationships and caring exacts. Our connectedness to one another is often what is best about being human. Most of us cannot imagine a life without moments of shared laughter, the warmth of a loved one's glance, the touch of another's hand. Our capacities to care for one another, to collaborate, to nurture and connect, allow us to create things of profound beauty and wonder. They remind of us of our true nature and provide us with hope and purpose.

I recall a time during the Gulf War when I was feeling a deep despair about our human future. I was invited to a unique Christmas concert. It was a singalong to Handel's Messiah. Anyone who knows me will tell you I am no singer, but the power of lifting my voice with others in the magnificent Hallelujah Chorus brought tears to my eyes. In that moment of communion with others, I was reminded of our human capacity to be creators of beauty rather than purveyors of destruction.

Human beings are primarily social beings. This means we are defined largely by our relationships with one another. We need each other not only for sustenance and company, but for meaning in our lives. The great French philosopher and mystic Simone Weil wrote, 'intelligence is enlightened by love.' Weil was a brilliant thinker about the human condition and she was using the word intelligence in its broadest sense to speak of our human essence and possibility. The love we receive (and give) directly impacts our very being, enlightening our identity, our empathy and our spirit.

We exist within the context of other people. Caring relationships are like the warm rays of the sun that calls the plants to grow. Affiliation and relatedness are the ground out of which a healthy self-identity grows. We define ourselves as others see us. Our value is affirmed when we are embedded in a healthy, caring social network. We are given opportunities to drop our masks and know ourselves in our closest relationships.

I have perceiv'd that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,
To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly
round his or her neck for a moment, what is this then?
I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as in a sea.
      - Walt Whitman

Belonging and loneliness are feelings that resonate across the human continuum. Walt Whitman's poem speaks of the complete fulfillment found in a moment of companionship. Who among us has not yearned, at least momentarily, to belong to some seemingly unattainable group? Most of can relate to the longing experienced by the child left sitting on the edge of the basketball court or the adolescent gazing covertly at a group of chattering peers. Sadly, more and more people living on the margins of our society live day in, day out with this longing. Their physical and intellectual differences are devalued by a society preoccupied with competition and uniformity. And we are all poorer as a result.

Diversity is connected to our very survival. Consider a simple lesson about diversity from agriculture. Mono cropping (a field is planted with one species) is used across North America to increase yield. However this renders the field more vulnerable to disease and pestilence. This is why we have such a dependence on pesticides and fertilizers.

So it is with us as human beings. Uniformity stifles creativity, limits choice and reduces our ability to problem-solve. Perfectionism eliminates variety and prevents us from seeing the light that shines through our human cracks and flaws. The global trends towards uniformity and perfectionism are like human 'mono cropping.' To counteract this, we need to move from a place of valuing diversity because it is 'politically correct' to do so, to knowing in our bones that our human differences are as important as our similarities.

How can we cultivate this knowledge? How can we learn to value our differences so strongly that we commit our lives to our collective future? The findings of the research team Daloz, Keen and Parks in their book 'Common Fire' provide one possible answer. They were looking to find how lives of commitment to the common good are formed and sustained. The research team interviewed 100 people who were 'leading lives of commitment to the common good.' Their interviews were structured to search for what had occurred in the lives of these people that had shaped them into exemplary citizens. The researchers, all developmental psychologists, had a few ideas of what might be significant variables to begin with. For example, they predicted that variables such as a stable home and a consistent adult presence would be significant factors, and it turned out to be true that these things influenced most of the participants.

However, the research revealed one significant variable the researchers had not predicted. This variable turned out to be the only experience that all 100 participants shared. All of them, at some point in their lives, had been in relationship with someone they perceived as 'other' or different than themselves, such an elderly person, an impoverished family, a child with a disability. What happened in the course of these relationships is what happens in all caring relationships: deeply human qualities emerged and overshadowed the differences. In other words, these relationships led to a profound understanding that human beings are more alike than different. The authors speculate that this understanding is at the root of compassion and the source of deep commitment to the common good.

Perhaps you have had an experience in your own life when differences melted. In our work with people with disabilities at PLAN we have seen it happen countless times. As we have introduced people into the lives of someone living on the margins of their community, they tell us things like:

• "Maria has shown me how to appreciate the little things in life more. My faith has grown."
• "I have learned who I am with Surinder. How she affects me is her simplicity. Once I am there, we sit down and nobody else exists."
• "Because Bill is so open about his needs and feelings I found I could talk about my own, something I feel society has discouraged men to do."

As we remove the barriers to their presence, as we connect with one another in relationship, our communities, our families and ourselves are transformed. It is in the melting of differences that a true miracle of human nature emerges. In this melting, a person with 'needs' becomes a giver instead of a taker, defined by their contributions instead of their deficiencies, half full instead of half empty.

We need to find responses that uncover our resilience, to be reminded that we have an inner strength and innate sociability that will help us thrive and grow. We need to turn away from social engineering to finding ways for people to do the right thing. Our task is to shine a light on opportunities to be our most human and trust that our capacity for balance and human connection will emerge. This is where welcoming the strangers in our midst provides a powerful beacon.

MARTHA HAS NOT LEFT THE NEIGHBOURHOOD
The shades of the small room with the parking lot view were drawn and the stale air of the nursing home stopped me in my tracks at the doorway. I looked at the familiar knickknacks that godmother Martha has chosen to surround herself with here in what is sure to be the last place she lives. I think perhaps it is a blessing that she has lost her sight. At least she can't see how the dim light in this place renders the remnants of her many past homes faded, tatty and lifeless.

My eyes shift to Martha in her chair. At 86 she has become frail and brittle. The arthritis she has struggled with for half a century has immobilsed her body and put permanent deep, dark circles of pain under her eyes. Sitting motionless in her chair, her short shock of white hair is combed back with a pouf at the front. It looks a little like a greaser haircut or a waterfall in the vernacular of the fifties. To complete the look she is wearing a pair of wraparound sunglasses that someone has brought for her to help keep the whispery shadows she still sees to a minimum.

As I bend over to give her a hug I say, "Gee Martha, you look pretty cool with your shades and slicked back hair."

Martha replies in her lingering Lancashire accent, "Oh, yes the aides have been telling me I look like Elvis. I told them there is only one difference between me and Elvis."

"What's that, Martha?"

"I'm not dead yet."

Of course I laugh. In my heart, though, I am thinking Martha is right to remind the world she is not dead yet. In a society obsessed with material goods, speed and productivity Martha seems disposable. The dominant view of Martha is of an elderly, infirm, blind, unhappy woman. Some might even speculate she would be better off dead. And Martha herself, now housed in the last place she ever wanted to be, sometimes shares this speculation. But what about the world she will leave behind. Will it be better off?

I think not. You see, when Martha leaves this world she'll take a potent but invisible force with her: the force of caring. Martha does not know it, but she has been a premier resource for caring in the town where she lives. Her impairments, vulnerabilities and stubbornness have been catalysts for kindness to blossom and a neighbourhood to be reborn.

Let me explain how what is least valued about Martha has unleashed what is most valuable. Prior to entering the nursing home Martha lived alone on the second floor of her two-storey home. She moved painstakingly with her walker between her bedroom and kitchen. She never went outside because of the stairs, except when carried to an ambulance, which happened occasionally.

It was obvious that Martha should move. The situation was untenable. Everyone from her faraway family to her neighbours and even her doctor and banker (who both, after all, had to make house calls) was in agreement. She should move. Everyone, that is, except Martha, whose infamous stubbornness took on mythical proportions in this matter. Combined with her often tactless way of brushing people off and lack of gratitude for support that was offered, it would have been understandable if the neighbours had remained in their homes. They could have washed their hands of her; after all, they had no ties or professional duties to bind them to Martha.

But they didn't. Instead they brought her books and sweets. They kept an eye out for anyone around her place who shouldn't be. They brought over turkey and the fixings on holidays (even though she made it clear she used to be able to do a better job of roasting the turkey herself). After awhile they started to organise get-togethers at Martha's house because after all, she couldn't get to theirs. They began to get to know each other at these events. They found when they bumped into each other in town or on the street there was always something to talk about, a story about Martha, a shared chuckle at one her jokes or worries about her health. While they often cursed her stubbornness and demanding nature they rarely failed to acknowledge how inspired they were by her spirit and feistiness in face of the hardships life had dealt her. As her challenges grew over the years so did the relationships among her neighbours.

When the time finally came when even Martha herself could no longer hold onto the dream of living on her own, one of her neighbours said how relieved she was but also how sad she was to see Martha leave. "You see," she told me, "she is the neighbourhood."

It was because of Martha that her street had turned into a neighbourhood. Because of Martha's needs, her neighbours were called to be patient and inventive. Because of her cantankerous spirit, her neighbours were invited to be hospitable and gracious. Because of her humour, they were reminded of human resilience. Because of her stubbornness, her neighbours entered into her home and each other's lives.

It seems to me that we need people like Martha, people who can be difficult, often needy and seemingly hard to love. They are like alchemists unleashing the potent force that often lies dormant within us, the force of caring. In the dark cast by the shadow of violence, materialism and environmental destruction that we live in today, this profound contribution provides a welcome light on the path to reclaiming our humanity.

Since moving into the nursing home Martha has refused to leave her room to dine with everyone else. It is no surprise or secret to anyone who'll listen, she doesn't like the food! Her former neighbours have, of course, been visiting. Before long they set up a rotating meal system between them so Martha is now putting on weight. As for Martha, well, she doesn't realise she is a portal to others knowing the world differently. How could she? She's too busy being the neighbourhood.

Martha is a modern day alchemist. She is transforming the icy spaces between people into golden pathways of human warmth and affection. When she and others on the margins of our society come into relationship they teach us to see things differently, to open our hearts and respond to our hospitable impulses. In each of our communities and neighbourhoods there are people like Martha waiting to work their magic, to make their contributions, to help us remember who we really are. All we need to do is get to know them well enough that they offer up their gifts.

Our growing loneliness, this losing touch and feeling disconnected from one and other, is a profound issue for our time. Caring relationships are at the heart of everything that is healthy and human. Like the infant separated from its mother, people wither and die without supportive relationships. As a species we are interdependent. The quality of our relationships is fundamental to our individual physical, emotional and spiritual well-being, the health of our family life, the safety of our communities and the vibrancy of our societies.

It is fair to suggest that our relationships with one another also lie at the heart of the survival of our planet. For it is through our human interconnections that we are reminded that we are a part of the web of life on earth. We are responsible for each other as well as ourselves. In the end, these will be our individual and collective legacies: who we loved and who loved us.

Date / Author	Subject Add Your Comment
Apr 26, 2006 04:15 PM	"The Healing Web"
Nikki Schmitt	Very well written and poignant. Relative to the needs of our current day communities.
Apr 07, 2006 01:34 AM
Cynthia McEwan	Vicky, What an inspiring speech that reminds us all what life is about - each other.