Han

As one may gather from reading these posts or even more so from actually knowing me, I am a fan of stories. Those undocumented everyday instances of significance that we all experience, be it funny, sad, personal or a metaphor for life. Any number of the coffee dates that I have been on could attest to my love of the story. As always, I come back to the idea that they form part of that tapestry of our lives.

Over the past four years I have been exposed to a wide range of other people's experiences. In a way their journey forms part of my own, and not to sound to hippy dippy here, but that connection between us is what helps us to move forward. A collective group counselling made possible by the simple act of listening. And from time to time when you share an experience that is deeply moving it will, I think, resonate for years to come and in ways unimaginable to you now.

Those life events that shake a person to their core, a death, illness, love lost and hope forsaken, as examples, can form deep wells of despair that are hard to escape. At the moment, knock on wood, I haven't had my own overwhelming life event that has left me unable to even muster the strength to tie my shoes...but I know it lurks out there. And that is why trying to live in the moment and to making each day count is where I choose to be. Lest I find myself facing my own han.

An episode of the West Wing brought this concept to me a few years ago, this idea, this notion of han. It is a sense of hopelessness and resignation to the idea that you are powerless to change that which holds you down. A sadness that cannot be escaped. There but for the grace of God go I comes to mind. I can see how it would be easy to slip into this kind of despair...it's probably just easier to tune out than to fight. And just as easy to see how it could spiral into a vortex of dark, an abject gut wrenching dark that makes it near impossible for the light to get in. It hurts to see others suffer through this...never knowing what to say but knowing you need to try.

I don't have the answers but I can offer that shoulder, that ear. I've been on the receiving end of many stories and more often than not it was the simply being there to talk to that helped. It's not such a bad way to be and in the end if my act of being there helps in any way, alleviates even a little of the lament than that can't be a bad thing can it?

Something to ponder I guess.

Ciao
D