Like many people, I have been loosely following the Chilean miner saga for a while. It’s been a fascinating story. The rescue effort and how their country rallied around these guys became pretty damn captivating. As the story unfolded, I found myself drawn to the tales of how the miners survived, how they spent their time, stories of their families, etc. For a while, it was all arms-length. I was interested, but not invested. I tried to imagine and felt bad and was hopeful. As time went on, I became more invested and was really rooting for these guys. I was rooting for their wives, parents, friends and kids. At some point, I, on a deeper level, began to take this story personally. I really wanted a good outcome for everyone, including myself.
In a not-so-common happy ending, yesterday the rescue efforts were successful and I was very happy. I was especially touched when the little boy hugged his Dad when he came out of the mine rescue contraption. In this moment, I felt the sentiment, as both a father and a son. It was great. I truly connected to both a father and son in Chile and shared a small piece of their emotion.
Once in a great while, an event like this will serve to remind me and us of the thin string of humanity that connects us all. Certainly the families of the miners were affected by this event, not to mention, the entire country of Chile, as well. But on a larger, truer scale, I think much of the whole world was watching and cheering and genuinely moved by these guys coming out of that hole.
This is significant to me in that it highlights something that, I think, is often overlooked. We talk a lot about all the differences we have. From cultures to race and, of course, religion, we are different in many ways certainly. But what is also true, but rarely makes a headline, is all that we have in common. I believe that on our most fundamental levels we are more the same than we are different. We all love our families and friends. We all want to have a good life. We all care about others and we will all root for a bunch of guys we don’t know, who speak a different language, trapped in a mine thousands of miles away from where we live our lives. We care about other people. No matter our differences, where the rubber hits the road, we care about others. This is good and it is OURS as a common humanity.
Understanding that ultimately we all share this makes it more difficult to hate. Watching the “news” pundits demonize people and their different ideas or perspectives, I sometimes find myself, if not hating, certainly “not liking very much at all”, a lot of people. However, I bet if I met these same people at a party and we were discussing our lives and families, it would likely be a good conversation and we would probably really get along. I have many friends with whom I disagree vehemently about “issues”. But, we’re still friends. It’s ok to disagree. It’s important to disagree. In fact, I don’t like or trust anyone who will wholesale agree with me on everything. (Fortunately, I don’t know anyone like this. But if I did I wouldn’t like them very much…FYI… just in case you were thinking about agreeing with me all the time.)
Our sameness and our differentness are what make us unique and uniquely interesting. Many times, our minds are made up for us by others. In a culture dominated by talking heads shouting and trying to sell their prejudices or agendas without regard for the actual person that they are filleting on the screen, we have come to regard different as wrong. We trust the untrustworthy. This is both ignorant and dangerous. I bite the hook as much as anyone and can get quite angry and frustrated when being told to. This is wrong and dumb and why a story about some men, fathers and sons, just like me, is important. It is important to remember that, just as we are fathers and sons or mothers and daughters, so are they. We are ALL bound by this thin but incredibly strong and resilient string and it is the best thing there is. We share much. It’s a good thing to remember.
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