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Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Espinosa: An eagle's eye view
By Lady Ochel C. Espinosa
In small doses
THE recent unfortunate events of our seemingly forsaken country have inspired most Filipinos to engage in charitable work. From the Ultra stampede to the Leyte landslide, different non-governmental organizations have mushroomed everywhere with an attempt to relive the Bayanihan spirit.
The fetish of giving rises to fever pitch during these ill-fated times. For many of us, this is the ideal time of the year when the idea of "giving until hurts" is a burden we willingly shoulder. Charity bazaars, foundations, donation drives, and other forms of grand-scale generosity suddenly illuminate the world with the warmth and brilliance of human altruism.
Unfortunately, like fashion trends and crazy fads that now adorn our generation, this outpouring of selflessness disappears once the "tragedy season" is over. When the fever dies down, when the media stops feasting on the juicy information, we all happily return to our anesthetized conditions until the next catastrophic outbreak. This does not mean that we should avoid widespread and collective forms of giving. We will always need them, especially in times of personal and family trials. It also does not mean that our acts of compassion will be ancient history or be rendered futile.
What we should stubbornly refuse is this idea: massive, periodic episodes of altruism, or what we may mistake for altruism, are the only effective means of avoiding death, hunger, and sadness. If we are not careful, it may actually be an efficient way of lulling us back into a life-long coma: we've done our share already, we've done it well enough, and this time, we've done it with a hell of a sparkly, glittery, canned goods- and -instant noodles- encrusted bang.
Instead of giving until it hurts, and being blissfully relieved when the pain is over, perhaps we should give in small doses. Of course, neither is this to be seen as panacea: small acts of kindness, or what we may mistake for kindness, can be given mindlessly and joylessly. As we sit in the car, we hand five pesos over to a child - not out of sympathy, but because he's selling flowers, cigarettes, or candies. We toss spare change like clockwork into the blind man's can without wondering: "Who is he? What other deeds, small or large, might be more beneficial to him in the long run, and keep him and others like him off the streets and their shanties for good?" Knee-jerk pity and sympathy, or worse, mere guilt and routine involved in small acts can soothe or numb, but not cure.
So how can we make small doses work? We must, try to do it as carefully and as consciously as we can. For instance, the ordinary and mundane things our family does for us. Parents clean and cook for us, and nag us to fix our room, use deodorant, and quit wasting our lives. Siblings help us with homework, or accompany us to the mall and tiangge when they could do otherwise. They could do this out of a sense of unquestioned routine, duty, or even shame. Then again, they do this because they know it is important to us, and because they know, or at least hope, that it would help us to be better persons.
The same logic could work for small acts of kindness toward others, especially the ones we witness everyday. Behind every act of kindness that is done sincerely is a thought that was reflected upon. We do this because we believe that this may ease someone's pain, or light a flicker of hope that everything is not lost. Through small but dedicated acts, we can cultivate a truer sense of altruism and selflessness, because we can have greater communion with those we give to. Not only because we can help more people, but also because we can help even those whom we already know in more ways than we believe we can.
Far from teaching us to greater responsibility, small acts of kindness prepare us for the unknown times when we will have to sacrifice more. When that day comes, we may not need to worry because altruism and selflessness have become one of our better habits. And as the Ateneo de Manila education puts it, we all have to be "men and women for others."
More importantly, we have to remember that all moments when we have to sacrifice more rarely come in form of life-or-death situations. A writer once said that we become corrupt not because we chose evil in a single, calamitous situation. We rot because of the daily temptations we yield to. In other words, without us being aware of it, we make corruption a habit. It patiently makes its way through individuals and weaves itself into societal structures, seeing into our daily lives until we no longer know where it began.
If this is how damage is dealt, then perhaps we can heal in the same manner: for every drop of poison, a drop of the antidote. While keeping in mind that evil has greater structures, it was reinforced by the hundreds of small, nameless acts of evil we chose to do, willingly or not. But many rivers and streams run into seas, so it is possible that we can still restore goodness, even through trickles or through what seems to be the most trivial of things: an embrace, a kind word, a bandage, a shared lunch, a bottle of water, a cup of coffee, and few minutes of listening.
So before we get caught up in the giving frenzy for people we feel are less fortunate than what they already are, we must remember that goodness is not only in the awesome, the grandiose, and the extraordinary; it's in the commonplace, the everyday, the conventions, and the seemingly insignificant. Because if we get overwhelmed, we'll return to that life-long coma once more. And while we sleep soundly, hunger, death, and sadness will return from their holiday vacation, as though their tragedy never happened at all. (For comments and suggestions you may e-mail me at ladyochel@gmail.com)
(March 15, 2006 issue)
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