Dialogue and a church
Hi!I walked to Port today, to lie on the cold stone beside the church and think about all we've made, all we see, all there is to appreciate (was feeling rather metaphysical): it was a return to the feeling of belonging, of being a part of something bigger than myself. I felt as if I could feel the nobility of life again, something simple and beautiful, like the sunlight. How can anything else be so perfect? Ah, Francis Cabrel... "Et si on dormait sous les arbres le reste du temps." He's wonderful!
But this entry is more to do with what I was considering on the way home - I need a (less pretentious word than 'elucidation')... an unravelling of the influences flying around inside my head.
During my time in England, I worked for one week as a charity fundraiser. We spoke to people on the street, spending most of our time in the town centre. It's a job which involves many of the things I dread most: staying in town all day, endlessly surrounded by concrete and crowds; the intimidating act of approaching strangers, catching them as they push past, unheeding; asking someone to stop what they're doing on the basis that what you have to say is more important. Despite the unquestionable logic of this when it comes to charity, I still found it very difficult to get my head around.
In the weeks following my time with Dialogue, the reasons why I couldn't continue always came down to the essential clash between what the job required and the way I am. I prefer to listen to someone, not speak myself - especially with strangers. I like to hear what people are thinking, and to watch them, to think myself: not present what felt relentlessly like an imposition. I know, I know that raising the profile of the Red Cross is worthwhile. The members of the team that took me were some of the most amazing people I've ever met, and I feel honoured to have known them. But what it came down to, I thought, was that I had been counting on my passion for the charity to overcome my instinctive shyness - and it couldn't.
Today thought, I realised that my failure had more to do with the awkwardness I felt. Besides being unable to hide it on the street, I made the far greater mistake of allowing it to overshadow my relationships with my teammates. Our leader was an Australian girl called Sandy, a person who was a constant example of how moving and powerful genuine kindness can be. She made your soul light up.
Ah, this explanation is about to get very convoluted. (I really need some practice at written English before diving into Uni!) Trying to be short, then: I didn't open up to her. She was there to help her team, to prepare them, to motivate them, and I didn't give her that chance. I didn't trust her enough, and so denied myself the support which could have saved me. She was amazing. Without my family (who are indescribable), I was alone... And I couldn't do it on my own. That was the difference.
posted by Anonymous @ 9:29 PM
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