privileged postion

There is so much talk these days about privilege. Especially from us ‘woke folk’ about some in our society that cannot see how their ‘luck in life’ has given them a head start, while others, less ‘lucky’ are faltering in the starting blocks. But this is not a (very) political blog; so my thoughts have been turning to another version of privilege, that of privileged witness

There is a certain privilege being part of others’ lives; being present at their birth; witnessing their growth and being part of their lives as they pass. Huge life events that could happen unwitnessed, unappreciated. But for some of us, we are honoured to be a witness or participant to.

We are all urged to ‘remember where we were’, when certain large news stories broke, or the famous passed. But there is often not the same fan fare for the arrival or departure of lesser mortals. But these are the everyday privilege that I never take for granted.

When my bairns were born, I still remember that overwhelming feeling of emotion – and accomplishment. One of the most basic events of human life, is often taken for granted. But that marvel of the first breath; the first sight; the first meeting of a new soul, is a daily miracle around the world. But for each of us, it only ever happened once; and the others in the room were so privileged to be part of it. There has never been that precise collection of atoms, DNA, thoughts, emotions; and there will never be that precise collection again. Around 385,000 miracles a day! And I was privileged to be there for 4 of them.

Parenting is a privilege. Fine tuning those humans that are left in our care. Some of us excel in that role, others fall short. But the role itself is one we should celebrate. The years of infertility taught me that – but tbh, it taught me very little about how to do it; just to be grateful that I have the chance. We get to make literally life and death decisions for another soul, until they are able to start making those decisions for themselves. And when they do; our efforts can be judged by their success or failure. When my bairns passed milestones, I watched with pride. When they started forming their own opinions and showed how they will live their lives, I took comfort in that I knew I had done as much, and as best as I could. Seeing the phenomenal adults they have become gives me such pride; but I aware, that I merely sewed some seeds; they have done the work and the learning themselves.

In Recovery I have seen people arrive in the worst times of their lives. Beaten; desperate; crushed; not knowing how to get out of the horrific grip of addiction or fractured mental health. Angry, sobbing, silent, raging, laughing, bewildered. I have seen all the raw emotions. But then I get to see them grow. Find ways to escape the torture of their brains and find a way of living in harmony with themselves. It is always a privilege to see them develop and thrive. From ‘camera off’ or hidden in the shadows; to present, contributing, laughing, living. It is a rare privilege to witness their regeneration. To grow into the people they were always meant to be.

When people are fighting battles, it is especially hard for them to show their vulnerabilities. We all have an underbelly that we protect. And when we are in the grip of MH or addiction, we curl up and protect it even more. The “I’m fine” is an amour we all wear while we live in denial or shame. Being a witness when those who are learning to trust and be vulnerable again, is a privilege I never take for granted. I know how hard it is to let people in, to let them see I am not ok. So when others offer me their trust, I never take it for granted

At the other end of life, there is a special, quiet privilege of being with those we love, or even those we don’t know, when they pass to whatever comes next. When my dad passed away; we all came together and spent his last day here with him. He was not conscious, but I’m sure he was aware of us; heard the banter and the conversations. I sewed the last few stitches of a tapestry in his presence. We weren’t very quiet, we were just us. And when he left, there was a sudden peace in the room. We knew his suffering was done. He had spent his last few months tidying his books, sorting his affairs. There was no more for him to do. He had spent his life being a good man. Teaching his kids life skills and kindness. Supporting his wife. Helping his friends, and in the last few years, underprivileged people to get ahead. His passing gave us great sadness, but oh, what a privilege to have known him, and to have had him in our lives. He left, as he had lived, quietly, and gently.

When my daughter Bridie was born, I knew her life was to be very short. An instant between life and death. But we were there for it all. A life lived in a moment. But her life gave me hope. She made me a mother. Her brother was still safely with me, until his time came. He is such a kind soul; I often think he carries enough heart for 2. Her legacy lives on in all of us.it was such a privilege to carry her for as long as I could; and then to give her so much aroha in her very short life. And finally giving her dignity after she was gone. Hospitals treat these special bairns so SO much better these days. No longer whisked away, they let the whanau have the time to say goodbye.

I have been privileged to bear witness to many life events for others. Births, weddings, birthdays, christenings, comings of age, new starts in life, divorces, graduations, life changing and challenging events…. For it is bearing witness to these things that preserves them, in our memories. It validates peoples’ experiences. It confirms they are part of our tribe. We get our sense of belonging form sharing these things with others. A success celebrated solo somehow does not feel the same.

I have some in my life who are dealing with loss, theirs, and others. It is painful to witness. I often feel helpless; unable to ease their pain, their fear, their bewilderment. But on some level I know, just being there is enough. I am privileged to be included in their lives at this time, the hardest. I cannot make things better. I cannot take away the pain or the fear. But I can make them feel like they are seen and not alone. And I can marvel, at their courage and tenacity. I have some that I will have to say goodbye to. I am sad in advance. But I never take for granted that even at this, the worst of times, they have included me to bear witness to the end of their life.

They say we come into this world alone, and we leave alone. But I hope this isn’t true. We deserve to be welcomed and farewelled by people who love us. Sadly I know this isn’t always true. Not all babies are wanted. What a tragic start to a life. And I know that sudden deaths don’t give us a chance to say that one last thing. The grief of unfinished conversations. But I take hope in knowing that we say enough when they are living to carry them over to the next part. I know that those who have left me unexpectedly knew I valued and loved them. They knew that they were loved and appreciated by their whanau and friends. Even if they possibly did not appreciate how much.

When we ‘exert our privilege’ and bear witness to people’s lives; we strengthen all of us. We build communities, we validate people’s existences. We offer them dignity and aroha. I never take for granted the privilege I have been given, by others

Whakāmanawa

E kore e hekeheke, he kākano Rangatira

Honour

A noble heritage will never perish.