Back in the nineties, through strange circumstances, I met a strong woman named Laurie (name changed). She was Deaf, but she was an adept lip reader, and she was also a member of a 12-step program for overeating. I actually met her at an open 12-step meeting for alcohol, which she also attended, not because she was a drinker; she just liked the spirit there. When we crossed paths, I was in early recovery from alcohol abuse, and she was much further down the road in her program. Over time, she had lost 100 pounds, and she was at her goal weight; she was maintaining it well, and she was dedicated to her spiritual path. We became fast friends and soon after, almost daily, I'd show up at her house unannounced, barging through the door as if the whole world should stop for me. And Laurie's world always stopped for me.
Every time I randomly appeared, Laurie smiled wide and welcomed me, no matter what she was doing. When I curled up on the couch with her Rottweilers, she tucked me in. We watched movies, hung out, drank coffee, talked deeply and bullshitted and laughed and prayed, the whole gamut. And she had a special gift -- due to her lip reading, she focused on others intently, and she was always a sharp, engaged listener. Instead of balking at my surprise visits, she gave me a key to her house. When I painted a horrible mural on the wall of her study, she praised me, and she left it there for all to see. Maybe to the rest of the world, I was a stick figure artist, but to Laurie, I was Picasso.
Despite her challenges, Laurie never complained. Day by day, she focused on my wellness, my life struggles, and my care. No, she wasn't perfect, and both of us were fighting to recover, but she was damn raw and real. And when she noticed that early sobriety was too much for me, that I was too sick to live alone anymore, she didn't give up on me. Instead, she hunted down my family and called my parents to inform them of my current state, because I was too sick to do so. You see, Laurie was one of the angels who saved my life.
Now I consider her one of the greatest teachers I have ever known. Because great teachers never preach. Instead, they listen close, act accordingly, and reach out to others, swiftly lending a hand when they can, and then humbly backing down when it's time. And for me, her timing was crucial.
And now that I've had time for my thoughts and feelings to settle, in thinking about the world occurrences as of late -- the Roe v. Wade, the happenings in Ukraine, the January 6 hearings, and on and on, I've been mulling some things over. I believe that feelings are important but later, I look inward, because I feel that change radiates outward. Not the other way around.
As individuals, our personal experiences -- both our pains and joys -- are golden; they constantly shape who we are, and they give us the ability to help others, when used for good purpose. Such was the case with Laurie, who used her experience to help me survive at a time when I was in literal danger. And then, in an ultimate act of humility, when she knew she couldn't help me, without hesitation, she stepped down and reached out to others.
The greatest teachers I've known have taught me directly from experience. They never told me what to do. They never ordered me around or asserted any type of power. Rather, they humbly shared from the heart, and they pulled examples from their unique histories, and they lovingly showed me the way. There was no force, no violence, no disruption, no war, no upheaval, no panic. Perhaps, on the way, I encountered roadblocks or setbacks in learning, sure, but the route in these relationships rolled out smoothly. Simply, it just felt right. And through their actions, and through my observation of the positive force these great teachers created, my life was altered forever.
When I think of the people I admire, when I think of the kind of person I want to be, I don't think about anyone "out there, in the spotlight," a person with millions of followers. I don't think of the people we perceive to be in charge. Not one. I don't think of people in the news. I don't think of anyone with any kind of external power. Instead, I think of people like Laurie, people who face life's challenges, feel each and every feeling, fight to learn and grow from it, and then give back.
Because in the end, sharing experience and helping others ignites the real change. And maybe that sometimes means I need to protest. And maybe that sometimes means I need hide in the woods, stay home and write, or curl up with Rottweilers on a rainy day, so that I can recharge and later be of service. But in my observation of life happenings, change comes from the inside out. My experiences and my ability to help others are occurrences that last my entire life, whereas power, money, success, and the like, eventually turn cold. Power is fleeting. In the early stages, power and control may seem like the quick route, but the idea of I'm right, I'm in charge never lasts. Take a quick look at history; people in the so-called power role always dissolve, turning to vapor. One day, a king. The next day, a living ghost.
What lasts is this: how can I help you? How can I save your life?
Look around. Notice the great teachers. They are quiet, often lurking in the background somewhere, steadily grinning, listening close. No media outlet introduced me to Laurie. I met her through the Spirit of the Universe, God, Buddha, or whatever you want to call it. And this energy, powered purely by love, is both in us and all around us, waiting for us to tap into it.
It's been 24 years, and I still reminisce about the way Laurie saved my life. And since then, there have been countless others. And in my book, these quiet teachers are the ones who deserve my attention, my devotion, and my praise. Look around. They are all around us, and we all have the ability to both learn from these great teachers and later become one, if we so choose. Never underestimate the quiet, giving types, for they are far wiser than the chaos and the noise.
C.A. MacConnell
