losing a playmate

*Update: shortly after posting this on Nov. 7, Suraja passed away. Thanks to everyone who is caring for her family, friends and those who only know her in spirit and have been praying.

Suraja was hit by a car and I'm told she is dying. She's the one on my left in the photo. I don't want to believe that and I will keep praying that she heals and gets to live out her playful life, spreading InterPlay to the world and mostly Mexico. I first heard the news on Tuesday night moments after my nerves of the election were lifted and joy settled in. What a moment of great joy and great sadness. Over the week the news of Suraja's accident has caused me to think about my relationships. I only new Suraja because we were in an ongoing InterPlay course together (Leadership 1, now Life Practices I think). I wonder about all the times I took for granted an opportunity to learn from Suraja. To listen to her stories about Mexico and how life is different here. How often are there people in my life that I know and care about but still don't give enough time to or the best of me to? Why do I just want to curl up on the couch and sleep in the office right now or continue to write this blog instead of socializing with the three other wonderful coworkers sitting around me? Each in our own little worlds. I mourn that I might never have a chance to play with Suraja again. I hope for a future in which I take more time to play with those around me while they're around.

learning to be proud

After stuffing myself at fauxturkey dinner (a great tradition that should be had by all, but for another post), I found myself in the middle of the Dallas County Democratic Headquarters. We'd been watching the election results at the Fauxturkey Dinner when I saw the quaint arts district four blocks from my house on television, with a big ole' party going on. When we got back to my house Joe and I decided to take a stroll (to help with digestion, mostly) and check it out. Wow. After moving our way through the shoulder to shoulder crowded block party, we found a spot on a sidewalk. I stood there and had a moment. A moment of complete pride. I saw a sea of people. People who were all different and all the same. There was no class, age, sex, race, religion on that block and yet every class, age, sex, race, religion was on that block.
Ever since I had a pastor in a large church say, "What a diverse crowd we had today" And knowing that I could count the non-white folks on one hand, the glbtq on two fingers and the missing generation by a ten year age gap; I've been looking for the time when I stood among a crowd and could say this is an honest- diverse bunch of folk. I saw America, the melting pot, represented in the Bishop Arts District last night. All gathered in a quirky little arts district, folks strolling in and out of galleries and shops, live music, election results projected in all directions and beautiful night skies.
As we returned to my house and not two minutes later Obama was named the 44th President of the United States (yes we missed celebrating with the public masses by 4 blocks and two minutes), I sat proud to be an American. Proud to be an artist. Proud to know that diverse group, mirrored on city blocks across the country had elected our next president, not the white, mostly-male crowd represented in the streets of Phoenix. Every class, age, sex, race, religion elected our president this time. I like change. Today I woke up with hope.