A Balance-Driven Life

I am old enough to remember the first time I watched TV at school.  It was a big deal.  Walter Cronkite was reporting the details of the Martin Luther King assassination.  The impact of his death and the magnitude of this event was initially dwarfed by my excitement.  Television was still relatively new and had never been a part of our learning process. I was just a kid.

That weekend, I had a cold and was bound to the couch.  I watched Martin Luther King's funeral live on a a little 12 inch black and white TV.  This time, the significance of his death became real to me. Masses of people were grieving. I was moved. For the first time, I cried for someone I did not know and would never know.  The television allowed me to participate, to be touched by this man and to discover, firsthand, the beginnings of an amazing legacy. 

The year that King died, there were three TV channels.  Our family watched television together, after dinner.  When my parents were young,  their families would gather each evening around the radio.  

Media was a family event.  What was heard and seen was discussed at dinner tables and among family and friends.

Playboy magazine was behind the counter at the drugstore and covered in brown paper.  Of course, I wanted to peek, but couldn't.  Today, the Internet is a window not only to a wealth of information, but also a portal to any image or sound imaginable.

I am a proponent of change. I am a supporter of a technology-infused curriculum.  TV had a big impact on my life as a learner. Today, computers and devices of all types are providing innovative and creative opportunities for students and teachers.

Still, I am not quite comfortable in this high speed, high tech, device-driven life. I wonder about the ramifications of too much connectedness, too much information, too much of the time. I wonder if I can set the limits that children need to feel safe in such a complex world.

What if?

What if we slept side-by-side with the families of war torn nations?   What if we became a part of their lives?  What if we helped them to rebuild their homes, their towns, their cities ?  What if we asked for nothing in return.

What if we stopped working on our own privileged lives and focused on those in need. What if we all did this? What if we carried no weapons, but instead, risked our lives by leading with trust?

Some of us would surely die. But, we are dying now.  

We are afraid and we are killing.  They are afraid and they are killing. We are angry and we are killing.  They are angry and they are killing.

What if we started with our own country, first?  What if the rest of the world watched us as our problems dissolved?  

Could we start a war of healing?  A war comprised of a wave of human compassion so large that it became a tsunami of comfort, love, and support.

What if we stopped everything we are currently doing?  We joined each other in the center of each of our towns and cities.  We found all of the people who are suffering amongst us and responded with love.  What if we gave of ourselves?

My heart is layered in sadness.  There is no comfort.  I know that I am living better and with greater ease than many of you.  Yet, I am frightened to change.  I am frightened to reach out to those who need.  I need others beside me.  I need you to change with me.