We're late arrivals to the Battlestar Galactica bandwagon, and we've been making up for lost time over the last few weeks, obsessively watching the DVDs through Netflix between our numerous social engagements and work wrappings-up. The pace has quickened somewhat over the last few days, as Amberly has been convalescing from her surgery on Wednesday — recovering well, thank you very much — even going so far as buying a few episodes on iTunes when Netflix wasn't fast enough.
For those of you not up to speed — you really must see this remarkable TV show, not something I say often — the Cylons are the enemy, a breed of robot created by humans, that rebelled and evolved, some into human form, with a monotheistic philosophy that, among other things, believes humans are inherently (self) destructive beings, a flaw which they see as the only defining characteristic of humanity.
One of the brilliant aspects of the show is the way it holds a mirror up to our current "war on terror," and shows us how we might be behaving as less than our highest selves in our approach to terrorism and terrorists. That's a whole other ball of wax...but it's also gotten me thinking about what makes us human.
That's also a bigger topic than can fit in one blog post, but here's one tidbit that this past week really brought home for me: love. It's the only word adequate to describe the support we've gotten as Amberly's been bedridden and I've been called away to various work obligations throughout the week. It's scary to show your vulnerability to others by asking for help, even for small things — like hanging out at the hospital while I was making a presentation, or bringing soup over while I was in a meeting — but maybe especially because the things we asked were relatively insignificant. After all, these weren't relatives that might feel some obligation to help, but folks from our community with their own loved ones and busy lives to attend to.
And there's the thing. It's one thing for me, who made a decision to love Amberly and made vows to that effect, to give my time over to be with her, but it's quite another for someone with their own busy life to do the same. Both are expressions of love, but the latter carries with it an extra measure of selflessness that is makes it all the more mindblowing.
A few years ago, when our apartment building had a fire, it drew folks from all around, strangers, within the building and throughout the neighborhood, offering assistance in the form of temporary shelter, clothing, or even just hugs. For a brief instant, strangers turned into neighbors, offering love to one another because it was so plain they needed it.
At the time, I thought to myself, "now, why can't it be like that always?" I've found out that it can and it is, but we have to be able to show our vulnerability — your building can't be on fire every day — in order to give someone the opportunity to show us love. It's a scary prospect, I know, in this culture of individualism, but it's something everybody is capable of and, at some level, yearning to show and feel. That's what makes us human.
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With no particular connection to the above, other than Jeff & Shauna brought over dinner tonight, we opened a bottle of 2005 Charles Hours Jurançon Sec, an appellation none of us had previously tried. I recommend it!
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