Visions despite a tarnished future

In 24 hours, the whole world has experienced an extraordinary series of emotions. First, there was promise, then anxiety and nail-biting, soon resolution. For some, that led to an even more pronounced set of feelings - fear, worry, depression. But somewhere in there, I feel I may have found a degree of hope.

This morning I woke to news that requires no restating. I no doubt believe it is an historic occasion, though its portrayal in the history books of tomorrow remains to be seen.

I processed the stages of grief - through denial to anger to bargaining to depression, but acceptance seemed an improbability if not an absolute impossibility. Instead, I opted for distraction.

Hours and hours and a hot chocolate later, I've had a peace wash over me with an origin that is two-fold and (I believe) key to moving forward in the face of this incredibly inauspicious moment in history:

1. In the hours following the definitive conclusion of the past many months, I watched as my community of friends and family wrote to each other with visions of solidarity, love, and compassion in the face of fear. Amidst the pain of a tarnished future, they spoke words of love and shared ambitions to become more active for causes in which they believe.

2. I re-read an essay that opened my eyes to the fact that even the most automatic destructive feelings can be combatted with education and compassion.

This is Water, a very beloved commencement address given in 2005 at Kenyon College by the inimitable late David Foster Wallace details the nature of automatic thoughts and how conscious thinking can challenge even the most inherent negative feelings.

His speech (worth taking several minutes to read through) reminded me of a moment I had less than a week ago in a train station. As I stood at a ticket counter putting away my wallet, a man behind me muttered in automatic anger, "hurry up." I was immediately filled with the expected self-consciousness of bothering him, followed by indignation at his rudeness. What I did not expect was to feel compassion for him just a few moments later.

I've been in his place. I've stood in a line, in a hurry and wanting things to move just a few ticks faster. I might have even muttered under my breath under those circumstances. And I recognized that he likely acted not out of a conscious desire to be cruel or hurtful, but out of an automatic feeling of self-centeredness that is present in us all.

In moments like what we have witnessed today, it is the easy answer to submit to automatic feelings. Resentment begets vitriol which creates a cycle of negativity. This is the rhetoric that got us to this point in the first place. In the words of Wallace, "...the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self." If we choose that path, we find ourselves as flaming meteors barreling towards the Earth, the very destruction that we claim to despise.

"The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day."

Wallace spoke of this kind of compassionate form of living years ago, yet it is so very apropos to the events we have witnessed today. It is a universal truth. The active decision to breed grace is the antidote to the automatic desire toward animosity.

In such a short time, I have witnessed so much love on the internet and in my social circles. I hope for your sake that you did too. The forthcoming days, months, and years may continue to challenge us. Yet, the hope that we claimed to possess eight years ago has not worn thin. This is but a blip on our timeline, and if we just keep our hearts linked and keep pushing forward toward empathy, then I believe it possible for good to always trump bad.

Nous sommes tous Parisiens

(Jean Jullien / Twitter)

We have been injured by November 13th, but we can't let it defeat us.

This morning, I took a look at the calendar and made a joke about Friday the 13th. "I'll just blame any misfortune I face on bad luck." I had no idea.

As the work day came to a close, I found myself lurking on social media and there was no denying something had struck the world hard and fast. My Twitter feed was a flowing river of retweeted news articles, concerned hashtags, claims of astonishment. "#PrayforParis." "Nous sommes tous Parisiens."

It is not my nature to get involved in political arguments or breaking news crazes online, but in a moment like this it felt almost callous to "Keep Calm and Carry On" as the phrase goes. I wanted to help, even if it was in the smallest of ways. By sharing positive thoughts or retweeting helpful information, I was able to assist in what little way I could from my remote location away from the scene of the chaos. My drive to act was instinctual and unplanned. It was an automatic impulse driven by a mix of fear and concern for the many strangers living thousands of miles away whom I don't know and may never get to know. I felt what I believe to be the true meaning of love despite not being acquainted with a single victim.

In these moments of tragedy, we are able to find and share our best selves. We discover our capacity for empathy, our attachment to our loved ones, our desire to help others -- even strangers. We forget the petty trials of day-to-day life and remember what it means to be human.

We can't let all of that be forgotten next week when the headlines have changed.

In the coming days, weeks, months, and even years, it is our responsibility not to forget what happened in Paris. Not to ignore it, and not to return to life as it was before today.

There was a sentiment I heard expressed in an interview with a Parisian a few hours after the attacks were first reported. Yesterday we had freedom, he said. But tomorrow everything will be different.

Paris is forever changed, and humanity is also forever changed.

That isn't to say every moment moving forward should be lived in fear of a potential repeat incident. Or that we must spend the rest of our days in mourning. A life lived in fear and sadness is not much of a life at all.

All the tragedy that has transpired should serve as a reminder that life is fleeting. We are responsible for spending as much of our time on this planet as we can doing good, pursuing happiness, and loving with all our hearts.

Don't waste a minute. Don't live in vain. Don't let those who wish to scare you win their sick game by complying to their desires.

Feel powerful in these moments of brotherhood/sisterhood with your fellow man and woman. Use them to connect with others in whatever ways you can.

And above all, be the champion of this battle. Just because we've fallen doesn't mean we've lost. It's up to us to get back up again and be the bigger and better persons. We can choose to thrive not from revenge and anger, but from mercy and hope.