Unsung Heroes

You ever have one of those moments when the curtain of fog lifts? I stop just short of calling it an epiphany, but something struck me this morning. I was watching a trailer…yes, those things most people fast forward past, or used to. (In my day… hahaha, just kidding). I love movie trailers because I love film and I love seeing artfully made mini-stories. Today, after a lot of buzz, I decided to check out the trailer for the new Christopher Nolan war film “Dunkirk.”

Now, just a little background, I haven’t written in a long time. I haven’t felt able to. My life, and the world at large has seemed to be nothing but an avalanche of misfortune and loss and I’ve been unable to articulate, or even understand exactly how I feel about it. I’ve not been handling life so well. At best, I’ve been angry and overwhelmed and at worst, I’ve felt a general loss of connection to humanity. I just don’t feel like this is my world anymore. Paradoxically, I don’t feel like I’m alone in that.

A little while ago, in said trailer, I was shown what I didn’t even realize I was mourning.

Humanity.

Of course, humanity is still alive in the world. By humanity, I mean empathy, kindness, and the heroism that happens every day. What has been different, at least to me, is that we don’t see it anymore. We’re overwhelmed by conflict. Politics is conflict, news is conflict. Most of the media we’re hit with is either vapid or profoundly mean-spirited. Conflict and violence has taken the lead and I don’t know about you, but it’s begun to make me feel burned out and more than a little bit hopeless.

It occurred to me that maybe my new-found affinity for Superman and Captain America (and my very old but newly ignited affinity for Wonder Woman) has more than a little bit to do with needing that shining example of people doing the right thing, especially when it doesn’t benefit them. They are beacons in a world that grows more muddy and pessimistic by the day.

“Dunkirk” did the same thing for me, but more profoundly. As it unfolded I found myself transfixed. Before I realized what was happening, the tears welled up. The world has perhaps always been in conflict, but people, good people, have always been there, even if they’re not on the news. It reminded me of that. It also reminded me of why I have such a deep respect for Britain in WWII and why film is so powerful.

“Dunkirk” reminded me that regular people, like me, like you can be extraordinary. We can follow those examples even if art is the only place to see them right now. Film, and art at large remind us of who we are and who we can be, and thank goodness for it.

Be human. Be a hero, even if no one can see it.

R

Day 25: Understanding

What’s one thing you wish non-borderlines could understand?

Intensity. One word sums it up better than a scroll of words a mile long. I wish people could feel, just for one second how deeply the emotions sink in, the fear, the anger, the pain, and on a good day, the love. Sometimes things affect me so intensely it seems like I can’t survive it, or don’t want to. I’ve written at length about the waves of emotion, highly charged and changeable like the tide. One small gust of wind and everything moves in a different direction, powerful enough to suck you and anyone nearby under. 

To the outside, nothing may have happened, nothing discernible anyway, but we will have registered a ton of information and triggers that cause avalanche to break inside us. Not seeing the ton of data that we see coming in must look rather like watching someone walk down the street making wild hand gestures and facial expressions only to realize later that they have a bluetooth ear bud in. They look crazy and overly dramatic, but that’s because you can’t see that there’s something else they’re hearing or seeing that you can’t. Like I’ve said before, it’s no superpower and a lot of what registers is wrong or misinterpreted. I know my satellite dish needs a good cleaning, or at least a change in the filter.

This one’s short and sweet because I’ve said it all before, but it truly is the most important point I wish was obvious. The emotions  run deep and beyond intense. If I overreact, well, it’s because I’m reacting to how big it feels to me. It’s a hard one to understand if you haven’t been there. I can be content being considered a drama queen. Everything is dramatic to me but that’s not all bad. As much as there is, it’s wonderful to feel. You know you’re alive and that’s deserving of big!