This week I had an extra day in Washington DC. A perfect opportunity to literally "spend" a day. As I left the hotel, I told Mark, at the front desk, "I'm off to explore."

"Then do me a favor," he said, smiling, "can you find me the secret of life?"

"I'll give it a shot," I told him, "but I'll need most of the afternoon."

No, of course, I didn't expect to find any secrets for Mark, but was willing to be surprised. There are moments in our day when it wouldn't hurt to suspend disbelief.

I can tell you this; I did need a good day to replenish and feed my spirit. It's been submerged of late. Or in some way, dimmed. Maybe some of you can relate.

(To be sure, self-pity is gratifying for a spell. But after enough time, it sits heavy in your heart, like some anchor welded to the bow.)

 

So. On Saturday I walked the National Mall, from the Capital Building to the Washington Monument, along the reflecting pond, ending up seated on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. For the entire walk, laughter permeates the air, the National Mall an open space teeming with families, groups, friends, couples; some walking, some parked on blankets picnicking, a few of the young snapping FB photos, striking goofy poses. Ambling seems the pace of choice. On this spring day, with cherry blossoms only a week away from their full glory, the temperature still requires a coat, but sunlight drenches the air, the sky and the mood.

There is hope. Even in DC.

 

Fred Roger ("Mr. Rogers") calls Yo-Yo Ma one of the "great appreciators of our world. It seems that people always walk taller after they've had an encounter with him. The only thing that's larger than his talent is his heart."

Mr. Rogers tells the story about a day he was privileged to sit in on one of Yo-Yo Ma's master cello classes. "During that master class one young man was struggling with the tone of a certain cello passage. He played it over and over and Yo-Yo listened with obvious interest. Finally, Yo-Yo said, "Nobody else can make the sound you make." That young man looked at Yo-Yo Ma and beamed. What a gift those words were not only to that cellist, but to everyone who was there. Nobody else can make the sound you make."

 

Well, nobody else can live the life you live. And even though no human being is perfect, we always have the chance to bring what's unique about us to live in a redeeming way. Fred Rogers 

 

On Saturday, as I walked among the myriad of people, I tried to see with Mr. Rogers' lens: Inside of everyone a light shines. Inside of everyone, there is a sound that no one else can make.

Here's what resonated... It is an affirmation I needed to hear.

 

Perhaps it is always easier to believe an affirmation about others than it is to believe it about ourselves. The light inside does dim from time to time. The sound is muted. And if we're honest we know how easy it is to live small or to be diminished; by shame or exhaustion or discouragement.

 

When you walk the National Mall, you pass several of the Smithsonian's, and on the corner of 14th, the Holocaust Memorial Museum. However (I am telling myself), if the point of my walk is to lift my spirits, I'm not sure if spending time revisiting the Holocaust seems well-timed. In the museum are stories of undeniable evil (whether acts of commission or omission) and our capacity for demeaning and dehumanizing and absurd cruelty. They are not easy stories to see. Nor should they be.

 

However. Let me tell you what else I found in that museum on Saturday. Stories of hope. Voices of men, women, children--who in the midst of cruelty and malice and hatred...

let their voice be heard,

let their light shine,

let their sound and their music ring out for the world to hear.

 

For the dead and the living we must bear witness. Elie Wiesel

 

There is hope. Even in darkness.

 

Here's the deal: the affirmation--no one can make the sound you make--can make all the difference.

If we let the affirmation take root,

We can choose

We can act

We can risk

We can forgive

We can redeem

We can bear witness

We can be the light of the world

In this dance we call life  

On this planet we call home

 

Mark greets me upon my return to the hotel for my luggage. "So," he asked, "Did you find it?"

"I did," I told him. "But first, I discovered that walking miles reminds me I need more exercise." 

"More importantly," I said, "The secret of life is that nobody else can make the sound you make."

"I get it," he told me. "It's not the pencil, it's how you sign your name."

I said my goodbyes and caught a cab to the airport. I smiled all the way knowing that he didn't need me to look for the secret after all.