I was riding Attica from here to there in the most diverse square mile in the USA the other day, where refugees-of-war carry the weight of atrocities as I pass them with my little smile and wave (sometimes returned, often not), and I saw a vacant lot blooming with violets and thought of that quote attributed to Mark Twain about forgiveness: Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.
And I thought out about the incident on MARTA last week that resulted in me filing my first police report (about which I have yet to tell you).
And I thought about the Mira Sorvino global women’s advocacy/#MeToo panel discussion at the Center for Civil and Human Rights in downtown Atlanta tomorrow night to which I got sold-out tickets and to which I’m not going — because I simply don’t want to deal with the goddamn fear of being a woman at night trying to get places in public.
And I thought about the March for Our Lives tomorrow, where our children are begging us to do the job we haven’t done to make school and our country safe for them, and which I’ve decided to skip even though I’ve covered numerous other protests this past year as a street photographer — because I’m too damned anxious about crowds lately.
And I thought about The New York Times Magazine feature story this past Sunday that spelled out that humans are actually making affirmative decisions right now as to which species will survive and which will not, and I shake my head because we can’t even handle the the morality regarding whether or not cars are allowed to kill people.
And I thought about . . . oh my god, I could go on and on.
But I won’t.
Because as I stood in that field of clover and wild flowers, I got to thinking about forgiveness. And I realized that’s all we have left right now — the public acknowledgment that we are human, we have done our best but basically f*cked up, and we need each other to find a way to make it right. The bottom line truth is that we need to forgive in order to live. And frankly it’s just as simple as that.
And so I forgive you .And I forgive me. And I’m ready to move forward.