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February 13, 2015

The Anonymous Letter that Broke my Heart. {Quote}

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“Tragedy always seems so distant and is beautiful in the reactions it causes. briefly, we are forced to care, we are connected and we pray and promise and hope for change. but the words are quickly lost and our minds quickly w[a]nder to other things even when the problems persist[s] with as much power and vigor than before.”

“our manic-depressive switching from compassion to apathy just results in each feeling negating the other. it’s easy to disregard what we can’t see. emotions are generally distorted reflections. over exaggeration and under exaggeration are common, but usually they are just faked completely. what matters isn’t the initial feeling, but the feelings they evoke in others.” ~ anonymous

I took the photo above years ago, when I was still living in Toronto, and obsessed with the vibrant graffiti and street art culture thriving there.

(I’m still obsessed, but from a distance!) I eventually compiled the photos into a book I was lucky to have the chance to sell at a bookstore (sadly, now closed) not far from much of the city’s best street art.

I became deeply immersed in the city through two lenses—that of the street artists themselves, and of my own interpretation, arrived at by photographing their work. It was a human connection through several layers, but a surprisingly intimate one. There are so many beautiful ways to commune with others, to receive, and give back.

This particular photo has stayed with me—haunted me, really—ever since. I stumbled on these two small strips of paper, written in a regular-sized font on a simple strips of paper, glued to a piece of wood in an urban back alley. It wouldn’t be the first thing you saw walking along, but I’d been wandering around this neighbourhood for months, and one day these faded, stained pieces of paper caught my eye.

I wondered how long they’d been there, how long they’d last.

The author will remain forever unidentified (though I would love to meet him or her, and have a conversation, and know of the experiences that led to the writing of this letter to the city’s citizens).

In a big city, which to my mind is increasingly a metaphor for the larger, global world we live in, being human often translates into feeling tiny, lost, insignificant. The writer of this public commentary makes some very prescient remarks, alluding to the tendency for our empathy and compassion, along with our apathy, to come and go as quickly as we’ve now come to experience the updates on our social media newsfeeds in the years since the letter was written.

Of course, this isn’t empathy at all, or compassion, because when we have learned to cultivate these qualities, they cease to be fleeting, and we become more able to generate a sustained desire to change the world (and ourselves) for the better. To connect, deeply, gently and kindly.

“It’s easy to disregard what we can’t see.”

Let’s make a world where it’s not desirable to avoid seeing. Let’s remove the veils behind which apathy and blind eyes flourish.

Let’s not be distracted, minds wandering, but mindful, hearts ever-opening.

Speaking out from small slips of paper, this anonymous writer reminds us that it only takes a moment to put something negative in the world, but a lot longer for the effects of this negativity to fade away. We should remember, in reading his or her beautiful, cautionary words, that behind the facades we use through which to communicate with the world (be it art or social media), we are real beings, reaching out to other human beings, who want to love and be loved as much as the next person.

Not for what we say or do, not only for right now, under these circumstances and not only to get a “like,” but unconditionally. Equally.

This is the beginning and end of what we deserve as we make our way, sometimes fumbling and yes, also dancing our way through the world. In case I never meet this author of these words, I send out a heart full of gratitude for taking the time to express these observations and attach them to the urban outdoors, so that we may be duly reminded.

 

Tammy T. Stone

 

Author: Tammy T. Stone

Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photos: Author’s Own

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