Monday, December 17, 2012
I am on a train, on my way home from the National Performance Network annual meeting in Philadelphia. A couple of brilliant b-boys from Miami were the first to tell me about the ache coming out of Newtown. Heads bowed in our impromtu somber huddle, we tried to imagine the grieving families. Then we realized we, too, were grieving. The b-boys were fathers to toddlers. There were children squirming in arms all around us at the conference. It was so busy. Constant movement. A swollen river of artists, presenters and their advocates. Waterfall voices pouring over every inch of our few days together. So the conference-wide moment of silence was startling. A relieving but crude break from what seemed like endless buzz. Nothing is endless. Cherish everything and everyone you see, hear and believe in. All weekend, I've been hugging friends, introducing my hand to new hands, collecting pretty cards and stunning ideas. All weekend, I've been bursting into tears, thinking of students and teachers so shocked and then so still. All weekend, I've been breaking bread, peering at paintings, leaning into good intentions on the dance floor, applauding flashes of divinity on stages. I'm so thankful for artists. For fathers who dance, mothers who write, teachers who sing, children who grow up to build sets, focus lights and design costumes. Remember the little hands that never got to grow. Remember raised hands, shielding hands, shaking hands. Long live creativity. May it heal our hearts pierced by the brutal fact of destruction. Peace be unto your creative hands. Make all the magic and love and music you can for as long as you can. Infinity is endless. Cherish everything, everyone.