The whole picture

The whole picture. How often can we see that, really? Especially in zoom squares. We see a slice of it, always. Informed by the boundaries of our bodies and our experiences.

This morning Patrick and I argued over a snippet of local news. Is the mayor right or wrong about how to approach the growing number of people sleeping on our city's sidewalks? We didn't disagree, really. But the whole picture is really complicated. We need to help one person at a time, and so many at once.

No one knows how. No one can do it alone. No one of us can see the whole picture, really. But I wish the mayor would try. I'm pretty tired of midlife white men stamping their feet and pushing their power.

If I could fly up like a bird and see the whole picture -- the whole sad and complicated picture -- maybe I would know what to do. Maybe I could put my arms around it. Maybe I could let my heart open to the one person in a tent on the corner, or the two dozen camped across from the hardware store. Maybe I could do more than give a dollar or two to the woman who sits right outside the farmer's market on Saturdays.

I see you. I just can't see the whole picture. __