Compassion is love and love is an art..

When I became a mother... I became aware that everyone is someones baby.... When I became a mother... It was as if I become the custodial guardian to the earth and her children... and when our children cry... we all weep...





Saturday afternoon I was weaving in and out of the cluttered streets of Nashville. Slews of fast paced people walked the sidewalks, seemingly, headed towards a specific destination. Not a soul wandered with out a destination. Even those sitting with their backs pressed against the wall strumming their guitars for coins were headed somewhere... perhaps in all little time but definitely somewhere.

A mass of people briskly walked towards the pub. I noted a blonde headed man had smiled and shook the hand of the dark haired man that had been walking towards him. The blonde held the door as they walked in... Defiantly not close friends yet but once the drinks ease the flow of conversation, I am sure the day will end with a closer bond... and possibly wondering if they said to much...

About a block down a curly headed little girl about 3 years old happily wrapped her arms around a little boys neck. She squeezed him so fiercely that his wriggles towards freedom proved a weak attempt. I am pretty sure she let go before the disgusted little boy turned a brilliant shade of purple.

A man and woman wearing matching Khaki shorts and tan hiking sneakers briskly walked up the street towards the park. "Very healthy people", I thought... I even stereo typed them into the category of people who probably eat large bowls Kashi cereal and orange juice after their morning jogs together.

 A few blocks down, there were brightly dressed people in wedding apparel, shuffling towards a large White Methodist Church  that vainly adorn pink ribbons and bows. I huffed a bit at the elaborate display... All that just to say I love you?

 For some reason when I thought about the displays of I love you's, I was taken back to the image of the men at the pub, the children and the couple walking towards the park.

 Love comes in many shapes and sizes, some loud and boisterous other calm and conservative...

Just as I was about to have this long drawn out conversation with myself about the shapes and sizes of love something caught my eye... Something... Someone I will never forget.... The image of this... this person will forever be embedded in my mind....

I saw someone's baby... Someones innocent.... lost.... little baby...... His dark black frail body glistened in the strong afternoon heat. Sweat dripped down from his brow leaving a trail down his cheeks. His ribs protruded underneath his thin skin like a thin black sheet hiding a sack of bones.

He stood about 6 feet tall and too close to the road. His eyes were shut as his head tilted up towards the burning sun light. It was apparent that he was out of his mind. He rocked back and forth on his bare heels as he chanted loudly at the sky above.

 I wish I could have understood what he said... I wish I could have understood how he became what he is... He probably doesn't even know himself...

He didn't know how close he was to the road... nor was he aware of the blistering from the hot asphalt on his naked feet. He probably was completely unaware that I was watching him, completely unaware that my heart grew and sank at his presence...

Compassion is love

Then there was a lady wearing a git up that reminded me of the world war II women's work force, "We can do it" poster. She climbed the stairs to the Art museum that was featuring an Andy Warhol  exhibit.

 I was almost one of those people... Headed towards the museum to see someone else's interpretation of art but then I realized, that in my heart I had made my own....

 Love is a complex art...