Last week, I didn't hear a thing about Brangelina or Britney or Paris. For a full week we had something more important to talk about than where Jake Gyllenhaal had lunch and who is freinemies with who. For six or seven days, the media took a break from Hollywood and focused it's attention a few miles south on San Diego.Not only did the media take a break from Hollywood, but it also took a break from the war in Iraq and the evils of Blackwater. It took a break from telling me about all of the political drama happening in Washington and it didn't attempt to persuade me to hate a gay senator. Last week, I didn't hear a single report of an attempted robbery, a drive-by shooting, a convicted sex offender being released into the community, a teacher being charged with statutory rape for sleeping with her student. I didn't hear about how the economy was slipping or what is causing the earth to die or why this or that political party is ruining the country. And I didn't miss it.
What I saw instead inspired me. What I saw gave me hope in the human race. What I saw made me want to become a better person. What I saw was San Diegans coming to the aide of one another, donating their time, money, energy, homes, land, food, tents, cots, service, skills, and prayers for those who lost their homes. I saw images of Qualcomm stadium where the evacuees were being entertained by musicians, cared for by doctors, and listened to by crisis counselors. I saw heroic acts of courage and compassion by the firefighters and the amazing acts of kindness and thoughtfulness shown by neighbors.
What's more is that I saw the reporters praising the firefighters, acknowledging the competence of the county officials, remarking about the compassion and generosity of the volunteers. In fact, I was inundated with it! All day long, all week long, images of mountains of donated goods at evacuation sites, videos of people cooperating with the police, interviews with caring people willing to give up their yard for an evacuated horse or their spare bedroom for a displaced family. The entire San Diego community, it seemed, was coming together.
I'm not sure if it was an intentional shift in reporting the news, but I loved it. The radio and the TV were filled with good news, positive news, about how people were helping one another and being in service to one another and I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to be like all of these good people all around me, lending hope and support to those in need. I wanted to be a part of what my community was doing: demonstrating compassion.
And I was not alone in this feeling. Other people around me have talked about how nourished we were by the news, how it made us believe in community again, how it made us proud to be from San Diego where so many good people live. This is such a different feeling than what I usually get when I listen to or watch the news: anger, fear, despair, hopelessness...
I know that the media aires the stories of brutality, violence, and destruction because these stories appeal to our anger and fear. However, it is true that what we give attention to grows. And I believe that if we were shown stories that appeal to our compassion and hope we would see a major shift in our communities, and even the entire planet. This was proven to me last week by the people living here in San Diego who, like me, were inspired and motivated to let the best parts of us show up.
Over the past few days, normal programming has returned to the radio and TV stations and I am no longer interested in listening. I find myself wishing there was a "good news" program that I could dial into and watch inspiring stories of men and women doing what we are all capable of: service and good work. I wish that, instead of hearing about how this war will never, ever end, I could hear a story about how a woman in Nebraska found a way to support Iraqi mothers from her kitchen table. I wish that, instead of watching images of gang bangers shooting up neighborhoods in my community I could be shown a story about the afterschool community center across my street that found a way to give adolescents a sense of purpose and meaning.
Until that channel exists, I have decided to put my TV in the closet. And you know what? I'm okay. It turns out that I really don't need to know what Jake Gyllenhaal had for lunch or what bizarness Britney is involved in lately. I decided to leave my TV career on a high note, with memories of the community of San Diego supporting one another in compassion and service.
