On Humanity (Human Warmth)

Humanity is a sad and vital issue, because it is in a process of disappearance, and life without it is not worth living.

Its public-relations is poor & minimal, it could be found, but mostly in the back-yards, hardly upfront. It could be found more within what could be called: ‘simple folk’, sadly the more sophisticated, educated, rich and of high status – lack it.  In fact, it is more present amongst animals, especially amongst dogs…

From all places it is most absent in hospitals, amongst doctors and nurses who hardly have any of it towards their patients, and amongst them it is mostly needed, the patients are crying for it so badly, and human warmth is not allowed entry.

There is a true story about a doctor, (Proffesor Ronni Gamzu), a manager of a very big hospital, rushed to an urgent cancer removal operation, and he said afterwards, that the most powerful experience for him then was when one of the nurses held his hand.

What is it in our life? It is an intensive care, consideration and compassion towards another human who is suffering, feeling emotional pain, is helpless and lonely, just because of being alive

But there are people who live their lives, dedicating it to the spreading of human warmth and care to needing human beings, (and who is not in need for it? who is more, who is less) they might not be aware that this is their mission in life, but without pomp and ceremony, (being humble about it), most of their goings on, is governed by this passion and dedication to inject it into the cold alienated life that people live. Are they saints? Well, they are real human beings.

One of the great poems that touch the essence of those many lonely people who are so desperately in need, every day, every second, for little bit of human warmth from another human being, they fall silently by the side of the road and no one knows of their mute human tragedy. Such is ‘Elinor Rigby’ of the great Beatles:

Eleanor Rigby

The Beatles

Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby
Picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window
Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Father McKenzie
Writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working
Darning his socks in the night when there’s nobody there
What does he care?

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby
Died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie
Wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved

All the lonely people (ah, look at all the lonely people)
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people (ah, look at all the lonely people)
Where do they all belong?

*

It is not a great deal indeed to feel care towards the one you love, but it is a great deal to love those we feel care towards.

G.R.  

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