A week ago, I posted a passionate appeal for help relating to a domestic violence survivor. When I wrote that post, my heart was hurting. I could not fathom how the power balance in an intimate relationship could be so skewed. The political landscape in the US with a presidential nominee heard on tape bragging about sexual assault was enough to throw me off kilter. I shook my head in dismay wondering how on earth such a person had risen to represent a whole swath of people.
Then the universe conspired to show me the other side. People, nameless, faceless left messages for me. They donated amounts big and small. They spread the word. They pointed me to contacts who could help. One particular person stayed on the phone with Shakthi and me helping us navigate some complicated things with her situation. Yet another reached out from across the country offering her time and expertise.
There were a few who spoke to hiring managers personally, taking time out to support and help a person who was just a moniker on a website for them. A few others sent gift cards and handwritten notes encouraging her and reminding her of the strength her name suggests. A whole bunch of them include her and her family in their prayers.
Amid the ugliness otherwise, there are deep pools of goodness, of oneness, of humanity coming together for someone who needs strength and support. A few months hence, Shakthi will probably be on her way to independence financially and otherwise, the funds would have been sent to her legal defense and all that will remain is a memory of the essential goodness of humans. Of all the good that surrounds us amid the hate.
As the festival season descends on us, I want to thank each of you who touched my life in any way for doing so. I want to say if I have not given as much as I have taken from you, I hope I can do better in the coming year.
Stay blessed. Stay happy.