"Sounds of Silence" - Simon & Garfunkel
It's been an enlightening weekend to say the least. Nothing miraculous happened, but it was an eye-opener nonetheless. These moments often strike me out of nowhere. I'd be doing some random chore like washing dishes or organizing my drawers...or in the middle of a conversation with a bunch of friends...I'd be ordering a drink at Starbucks or sorting out the stuff in my trunk because I hate it when mess starts to accumulate...or waiting in line at Target to buy something I really don't need, but buying it anyway...and then suddenly it'll hit me. This sense of appreciation for just being able to do just this.
I have family back home who can't even muster enough money to make a long-distance phone call. Living oceans apart from each other in a very different world. They don't go out to fancy restaurants. They don't get to shop for luxuries because they're saving it for necessities. They don't even have an official address. I have aunts, uncles, and cousins I've never met and some I'll never get to meet because they're long gone. People who know me by name and by face and yet I can't even begin to know how to acknowledge them in return. I have what they don't have. What's worse is I can't even send money or packages just to give them a small taste of such things because where would I send it to? Often times anything with a USA postmark in a third-world country won't make it passed their post office because it'll somehow end up in someone else's pocket. I wish I could do more for them there, but I'm limited here.
This is why I do what I do for a living (forget the bullsh*t people and politics that surround it). This is my way of giving back. In a way it helps me. I can reach out further in this space than I can abroad. So I woke up early this morning to spend my Sunday doing what I can for the people I can do it for. The storefront was quiet and with the freeway mayhem dying down I knew it would be a matter of minutes for things to pick up. In a span of a few hours, twenty-something people came in. All with different stories to tell. Some stood behind this facade that, "Everything will be ok," but once they were behind closed doors they buried their faces in their hands and broke down. This was their reality check and it was me by their side giving it to them.
This isn't a job for everyone and I admit there have been times I question myself for it as well. It takes a certain kind of patience and skill, which can burn out rather quickly if we push others aside to focus only on ourselves. It's not economically satisfying by any means and if we start to think about its worth in numbers, we'll quit too soon. I had to let it go to simply focus on the person sitting in front of me. The person who's life may change with what I'm about to tell them in less than 30-minutes. There's something about knowing that I can make this difference in some small way...that I was able to help someone know a little bit more about their health status that they didn't know before...There's just something about this that makes me feel worthy in the end.
I'll wash my dishes, reorganize my drawers, clean out my car, order at Starbucks, and shop at Target so that I may continue to have such lifechanging "conversations with friends" that trusted me for a tiny spec of time in their lives to do just this.
Lyrics:
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
"Fools" said I,"You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the signs said, "The words of the prophets
are written on the subway walls
and tenement halls."
And whispered in the sounds of silence
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/simongarfunkel/thesoundofsilence.html
http://avaxhome.ws/music/simon_garfunkel_karaoke_mp3g.html
It's been an enlightening weekend to say the least. Nothing miraculous happened, but it was an eye-opener nonetheless. These moments often strike me out of nowhere. I'd be doing some random chore like washing dishes or organizing my drawers...or in the middle of a conversation with a bunch of friends...I'd be ordering a drink at Starbucks or sorting out the stuff in my trunk because I hate it when mess starts to accumulate...or waiting in line at Target to buy something I really don't need, but buying it anyway...and then suddenly it'll hit me. This sense of appreciation for just being able to do just this.
I have family back home who can't even muster enough money to make a long-distance phone call. Living oceans apart from each other in a very different world. They don't go out to fancy restaurants. They don't get to shop for luxuries because they're saving it for necessities. They don't even have an official address. I have aunts, uncles, and cousins I've never met and some I'll never get to meet because they're long gone. People who know me by name and by face and yet I can't even begin to know how to acknowledge them in return. I have what they don't have. What's worse is I can't even send money or packages just to give them a small taste of such things because where would I send it to? Often times anything with a USA postmark in a third-world country won't make it passed their post office because it'll somehow end up in someone else's pocket. I wish I could do more for them there, but I'm limited here.
This is why I do what I do for a living (forget the bullsh*t people and politics that surround it). This is my way of giving back. In a way it helps me. I can reach out further in this space than I can abroad. So I woke up early this morning to spend my Sunday doing what I can for the people I can do it for. The storefront was quiet and with the freeway mayhem dying down I knew it would be a matter of minutes for things to pick up. In a span of a few hours, twenty-something people came in. All with different stories to tell. Some stood behind this facade that, "Everything will be ok," but once they were behind closed doors they buried their faces in their hands and broke down. This was their reality check and it was me by their side giving it to them.
This isn't a job for everyone and I admit there have been times I question myself for it as well. It takes a certain kind of patience and skill, which can burn out rather quickly if we push others aside to focus only on ourselves. It's not economically satisfying by any means and if we start to think about its worth in numbers, we'll quit too soon. I had to let it go to simply focus on the person sitting in front of me. The person who's life may change with what I'm about to tell them in less than 30-minutes. There's something about knowing that I can make this difference in some small way...that I was able to help someone know a little bit more about their health status that they didn't know before...There's just something about this that makes me feel worthy in the end.
I'll wash my dishes, reorganize my drawers, clean out my car, order at Starbucks, and shop at Target so that I may continue to have such lifechanging "conversations with friends" that trusted me for a tiny spec of time in their lives to do just this.
Lyrics:
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
"Fools" said I,"You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the signs said, "The words of the prophets
are written on the subway walls
and tenement halls."
And whispered in the sounds of silence
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/simongarfunkel/thesoundofsilence.html
http://avaxhome.ws/music/simon_garfunkel_karaoke_mp3g.html
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