Being Present

Newspaper columnists of the left and right typically advance their agenda, criticize their opponents and declare the moral high ground for their party . . . or themselves. Every so often a columnist, normally associated with politics, takes us well outside that box and rather than dividing us with party rhetoric, or promoting his or her rectitude, underscores our common humanity and identifies the importance of what unites us. New York Times’ David Brooks wrote just such a column In January called “The Art of Presence.”

Brooks cites how the Woodwiss family, within three years, underwent horrendous trauma; one daughter had been killed in a horseback riding accident and the other, three years later, was stuck by a car while bike riding, crushing and disfiguring her face. She will have to undergo long and painful operations. This daughter, named Catharine writes:” When you feel like a quivering, cowardly shell of yourself, when despair yawns as a terrible chasm, when fear paralyses any chance of pleasure . . . this is a fight that has to be won over and over again.”

The raw trauma people suffer often makes us feel anxious, uncertain, awkward and even guilty because we’ve been spared such horrors. The self-consciousness we experience in the presence of another’s suffering can precipitate remarks and behaviors, however well intentioned, that are insensitive.

The Woodwiss’s experience has taught them wisdom about relating to suffering people that they pass on to us.  I am editing some of these thoughts to elaborate while hopefully remaining faithful to their intent

Be there. In a culture that is obsessed with doing, the power of an unobtrusive presence  - just being there - cannot be overestimated. Loneliness can be the worst aspect of suffering.

Don’t compare. “I know just how you feel” comments are simply not so. We may imagine but we can’t know exactly and to say so is presumptuous.

Do bring soup. Identify small needs such as a bath mat or soup and provide it. Little things can comfort and mean a lot to sufferers.  

Don’t say ‘you’ll get over it.’ Remarks like this are often in the service of the would-be comforter, not the afflicted. It’s one way a comforter might try to minimize his or her own discomfort.

Walk alongside. The Woodwiss’s make a distinction between the fireman and the builder. The fireman puts the fire out, a critical one-time intervention. The builder, however, comes in for the long haul. Stay connected. Healing takes time.

Don’t presume to make sense of it. As human beings we intuitively seek meaning. In our eagerness to help we often offer formulaic answers to life’s imponderable questions. It doesn’t work. The word “preaching’ has earned an unhappy reputation for that reason. Meaning is discovered by one’s faith, that is, by first learning to live with the pain of trauma that almost always seems void of any meaning.

Brooks summarizes beautifully what the Woodwiss’s have taught him about the path of healing from trauma: “Allow nature to take its course. Grant the sufferers the dignity of their own process. Let them define meaning, sit simply through moments of pain and darkness . . . be practical, mundane, simple and direct.”

Thank you David Brooks for dignifying our human condition by lifting up the Woodwiss’s journey for the country to see.