I mourn for two students and two teachers today:
Christian Angulo
Mason Schermerhorn
Cristina Irimie
Richard Aspinwall
Last week, a fourteen-year-old in Georgia decided to discompassionately step well outside of his lane. As someone who yearns to understand the world and its workings, I would like to determine why that student exercised such an extreme. Was there bullying involved? Was there a lack of love? Did he feel unseen or unheard at home or at school?
I suppose, in a way, I am practicing compassion for the aggressor here. Wow. Well, how else can we figure out what to fix in order to move on from these psychotic cycles?
How many more gross missteps must we continue to endure? We are averaging more than one school shooting per week in America this year. Will we notice improvements as more parents are held accountable for their child’s actions? I wonder if that change will drive any new progress forward. I do not want all of my eggs in that basket, though.
Ultimately, it is the guns. Say what you want and choose to stay blind, but it is tough to have more shootings if there are fewer firearms. While this topic is heavy, I am briefly amused by an aside of imagining an iron throne made out of many melted-down guns.
I applaud the students who stepped up during this shocking crisis as first responders. One student ran to close their classroom door, getting shot in the process. When Mr. Aspinwall, the assistant football coach and math teacher, heroically placed himself in the way of danger to protect his students, those students repaid him by trying to do their best to save his life. Instead of understandably giving into fear and cowering in a corner, students courageously stepped up. They applied the skills at their disposal to compassionately care for him, though his valiant action cost him the sacrifice of his life.
Four lives lost because of one reckless teenager.
Did he not get out enough to appreciate his life?
Yes, I am still trying to understand; it is what I do.
I try to walk outside daily; I also try to be as observant as possible. I like to soak in my surroundings, appreciating each passing moment to the best of my abilities. It brings me joy to learn more about birds and butterflies, two animals I often see during these walks.
I experienced some of that joy earlier today while watching one white butterfly and one yellow butterfly. They engaged in a fun dance together that twisted and turned all around my periphery. In the past, I had only observed such behavior among multiple white butterflies. In this one fleeting moment of two butterflies gracefully interacting with one another, I felt so much calm insight course through me. We get in our own way.
We construct boxes for “other” people.
We set up our own limits and constraints.
What if we could all be saints?
If we each start to practice more compassion,
then how graceful can our collective dance truly be?
I hope we can see, eventually.
Compassion collaborates; discompassion denigrates.
Compassion constructs; discompassion destructs.
Compassion cares; discompassion disrepairs.
Maybe it is wise. Maybe it is dumb. Time will tell.