All That You'll Ever Need Is Inside
Someone sent me a video today of a young man who’s an accomplished pianist. In his debut TV performance, according to the — Steve Harvey Show — he plays beautiful and melodic sounds from the keyboard. The visual cue of him playing rends the heart. He only has four fingers.
His isn’t the first performance I’ve seen of someone “possessing” a “disability” and performing a supposedly impossible feat. By all intents and purposes, this shouldn’t happen, but time and time again, someone rises to the occasion and exceeds expectations — at least my own.
I write this as a reminder that “all things are possible,” not because of the spectacle (pardon my choice of words) or to put anyone down, but to remind myself that I have everything I need to succeed.
“Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people?” is a common question I’ve heard most of my life as people of faith wrestle with certain existential questions. I’ve seen friends struggle for years to keep alive a child born with a congenital heart defect, only to be separated at its death because of the hole (forgive the pun) left in the heart. Does life play a cruel joke upon us?
There’s also the question of altruism. It’s not for me to determine the motives — brotherly love, charitable work for a show, or even this video. In a way, I’m passing judgment, an automatic visceral reaction to something “so humane,” which leads me to question my motives.
Why am I sad? The default program says, “I should be happy” for this young man and others like him. Where do these erupting emotions come from? It reminds me of a few things.
For one, I must use these cues from my emotions and responses to assess my beliefs. Which emotions, exactly? What is the trigger? What do I believe? Do these beliefs align with commonly held beliefs, and should they? What actions must I take to regain sanity?
As I watched the video and experienced the emotional upheaval, I realized that I already have within me all that I need for life, just as much as this young man or anyone else. Previously, in such an instance, I would think about my relative advantage — me with all my limbs and appendages versus him — and consider myself lucky. But today, I’m having an epiphany. Here onscreen is a person not possessed by his disability. He is using what he has as a resource to increase his lifetime value.
I am no less than he is, and he is no more than I am. What anyone possesses is theirs to express and use in the best way, if and only if they choose. What you see is not what you get — a minuscule portion of the whole.
My sense impressions deceive me by pointing out limitations. I saw a boy with four fingers and no legs playing the piano. With my eyes closed, there’s no discrimination. I only hear the most melodic music, and feel the tones ripple through my body, smoothing out the torrent of emotions, balancing my energy. Within his garment of flesh is an eternal spirit — God — telling me: “All that you’ll ever need is inside you.”
I desire to tell a better story until I have no better story to tell — one that does not judge between good or bad or discriminate by color, race, class, religion, or disabilities. Until I can see him, I have work to do.
