today, and this time last year, and this time the year before that, i've posted the same essay on facebook. an essay on the dis-ease of being busy. and each year, it seems to come at the most perfect time. i'm not sure whether november the 9th is a particularly tough day for me, or just falls during a time of the year during which i tend to beat myself up more than other times. either way, this essay comes to me like a gift. a reminder. a nudge.
In many Muslim cultures, when you want to ask them how they’re doing, you ask: in Arabic, Kayf haal-ik? or, in Persian, Haal-e shomaa chetoreh? How is your haal? What is this haal that you inquire about? It is the transient state of one’s heart. In reality, we ask, “How is your heart doing at this very moment, at this breath?” When I ask, “How are you?” that is really what I want to know.I want to know how your heart is doing, at this very moment. Tell me. Tell me your heart is joyous, tell me your heart is aching, tell me your heart is sad, tell me your heart craves a human touch. Examine your own heart, explore your soul, and then tell me something about your heart and your soul. Tell me you remember you are still a human being, not just a human doing. Tell me you’re more than just a machine, checking off items from your to-do list. Have that conversation, that glance, that touch. Be a healing conversation, one filled with grace and presence. Put your hand on my arm, look me in the eye, and connect with me for one second. Tell me something about your heart, and awaken my heart. Help me remember that I too am a full and complete human being, a human being who also craves a human touch.
there's something about this. something that lodges a brick in my throat - the part of my throat that gets all stuffed up when watching sports and sad movies, or my best friends enjoy happiness. something that my mind needs consistently.
something that i need to 'help me remember that i too am a full and complete human being, a human being who also craves a human touch.'