Like most of you, I spent a lot of the day hearing about the bombings at the Boston Marathon. And while I don't think any of my thoughts on this are particularly unique or insightful, I had a lot of them racing through my head on my run this evening. Today I felt so distant from America, right when I was identifying with it the most. So here are few of my thoughts, from an expat perspective.
As usual, I slept through the event itself - we're 12 hours ahead, so we sleep through most of your day (if you're in the US) and you sleep through most of ours. For that reason, I started checking the news first thing, often before even getting out of bed. So this morning was a tough wake-up, sans snooze-button.
Naturally, I immediately open my computer and pull up several news sites, with that uncomfortable eagerness for news, even when I know it's going to be bad. And then begins what I'm going to call the 'camera auto-focus effect.' Imagine you are taking a picture of landscape, but there are some leaves in the foreground. Your auto-focus begins to waver back and forth, leaves sharpening against a hazy background as the camera focuses close-up, then disappearing as the landscape crystallizes. Sometimes even when you try to focus on one thing, the camera keeps honing in on the other. This is all to say that as I take in the facts, the story, I begin to rapidly flip back and forth between viewing the tragedy as a whole, and personalizing it, placing myself in the foreground of the picture. I don't think I'm alone in this, or in my struggle to figure out how to relate to and understand a tragedy without making it about me. Big picture vs me picture
Because attacking a marathon feels personal to me. I'm not a great or seasoned marathoner, but I've run a few and cheered at a bunch more. So how dare someone take something the displays the beauty and determination of the human spirit and blast it apart. How dare they ruin not only this race, this day, but also races and other events to come? It's not fair! Also, like every other marathon runner I spoke to today, the marathon clock in the videos jumped out at me. The bombs blew at 4:09 - my PR is 4:11. When I finished the Twin Cities Marathon, it was MY family lining the road, cheering me on. Blessed as I am with a vivid imagination, it is no struggle to place myself in the videos I watch. (Me picture)
But I wasn't there. Lots of amazing people were. Mr. Roger's advice to 'look for the helpers,' could not be exemplified any better than in the videos in which, moments after a bomb has exploded - and then another - police, medics, civilians rush towards the explosions (big picture)? Could I do that (me picture)?
My commute to work was disheartening, as it was quickly evident that almost no one knew about what had happened in my country. How come no one is acting any different, how come people aren't sharing sympathetic looks or making small gestures of kindness, banding together as you're supposed to after a national tragedy? Because it isn't Singapore's national tragedy. Just like the bomb blasts we hear about in Karachi or Kabul aren't our national tragedy. Just like today's 7.8 magnitude in Iran and Pakistan isn't our national tragedy - despite the fact that the death toll for that will surely outstrip the Boston attacks (big picture). My friends and coworkers have their own national tragedies - attacks in London, in Mumbai, in Norway. Natural disasters in Thailand and Japan. War in Afghanistan and Iraq and Sri Lanka and Kashmir. I felt so far away from home, because if I were at 'home' I'd be sharing in our mutual grief. I missed America - not my family and friends, but the country itself - which is somewhat unusual for me. I simultaneously wanted to tell everyone I met in the office and dreaded having to try to explain or excuse yet more violence in my country. As a friend put it, the longer you're out of the States, the more it sounds like the wild wild west - you only hear the bad. And in a place like Singapore (ranked 23rd in the Global Peace Index - the US is ranked 88th. Big picture.), which is very safe, the violence is especially striking. (I won't start on how horrible it felt, in the wake of the Newtown shootings, to have people ask me to explain America's gun problems...me picture).
Inherent in my whole camera metaphor is the idea that the camera lens is pointed at one event - and, therefore, not another event. I spoke to both my sisters today, and they reminded me that in our focus on one tragedy, we can completely neglect to see others - perhaps others in which we could be those helpers. It is absolutely tragic that people were killed and maimed in Boston. It is also tragic that Chicago has homicides on a daily basis. It is also tragic that there are children who don't have homes or adequate medical care, who sleep in police stations or parks. You can take your camera all over this darn world and find tragedies at all levels.
So where does that leave us? Where does that leave me?
Well, frankly, a bit baffled. More than a bit heartbroken. Frustrated. Angry, even.
I think it also leaves us with a charge - to do something.( Put that damn camera down! Get to work!) I don't mean you have to work on the tragedies on the news. Some pictures are too big, or too far away. But find a place where you can fit into the picture, where you change the picture. Maybe that just means reaching out and being kind to a neighbor or a coworker, or volunteering your time, or donating money. I don't know. This feel awfully preachy, world-peace-y. But I don't think it is off base. I won't pretend it is easy to leap into action. If I have any advice, it is mostly for myself - and that is to start by being good to the people you know, doing your best by them. Then start working on the people you don't know. If you have any ideas, please share them with me. I don't think I'm quite to the action part yet.
AND to really carry this metaphor through (!) - in the meantime, use your camera to focus on the GOOD. Look for the good - actively. Find it, capture it, and keep it with you. Show it to others.
And that, folks, is all I got for now. Sending lots of love from what feels like a looong ways away.
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