GUEST CONTRIBUTOR - MARGARET

Dear Readers, Get ready for another treat! It's contagious, no? One's desire to express oneself...It's the little moments I find so interesting. Margaret paid attention to a "little moment" on Saturday and had to share it. And I'm so glad she did! Enjoy.

GUEST CONTRIBUTOR - MARGARET

What I Think About When I Should Be Working

I've had a series of interesting experiences of late. It started with a conversation with Andre which brought into focus the question regarding whether people were inherently good or evil. Why can't we be inherently both? Is Hannah Arendt right when she pondered the "banality of evil"? Evil doesn't have to be on a grand scale, but more importantly it doesn't have to be the choice we make. The conversation reminded me of a story about Wilma Mankiller, the leader of the Cherokee Nation. She was giving a talk and on this occasion she wore a beautiful, ornate choker decorated with two wolves' heads made out of abalone shells. At one point in the evening, a member of the audience asked her what the wolves' heads represented and she said, "One represents good and the other evil." The man then asked, "Which one is winning?" Wilma Mankiller paused and thought for a moment and then replied, "Whichever one I feed the most." Whichever one I feed the most.

Yesterday I was given the opportunity to witness a handful of teenagers chose selflessness over their own desires (or perhaps selflessness was their desire) and it was a humbling experience. It was an invigorating experience. I supervised a donation drive the students organized as part of their Senior Project graduation requirement. Months of preparation went into this event. Numerous little touches from homemade brownies to specially made CDs and a slide show were in place to greet the generous spirits who were to arrive bearing their offerings. However, excited anticipation was in danger of dissolving into disappointment as time ticked by and no crowd showed. Yet the students resisted giving in to such a hopeless emotion. Every new face was met with enthusiasm and gratitude as people trickled in now and again. Between "drop-offs" the students wandered in and out of the school cafeteria where the drive was being held, simply enjoying each other's company.

About an hour and a half into the drive, I found myself looking out the double doors of the cafeteria at the gorgeous day and began wishing I could be outside...especially since we've had so many dreary days recently...how silly...I would simply be inside at KB...but I was giving up my "social hour" I told myself...although I had just seen people earlier that day and knew I was going to see friends Sunday morning...OK then, at least I could have brought papers to grade instead of wasting my time mindlessly waiting for the minutes to tick by.

And then it happened. The kids came back inside and began kicking the balloons that had been scattered about the floor as decoration. The song on the CD changed. It was louder, more upbeat. The kids began running and jumping about...alternating between trying to "nail" each other with the balloons and just trying to keep the balloons from hitting the ground...don't let it touch...now only use your feet...then only heads...the beat of the music kept pace. They leapt and twirled, giggled and screamed with sheer delight. It was contagious. As adults walked in they could not help but smile as they watched the soon-to-be adults behave like the children they still are...and I realized, standing there with a grin that stretched from ear to ear, that by choosing to focus on what I "thought" I was "missing" I almost missed what I actually received that day.

I was once told that the Chinese characters for "mindfulness" actually translate "presence of heart." That is what I witnessed Saturday. We tell our children that they can make a difference if only they act on their good intentions...but what are we, what am I, doing to make a difference? I was not "losing my Saturday," I was sharing theirs. They allowed me to be a part of their day of giving. How foolish I was to bemoan my "lost time." What better way to spend my time?