the narrow space between interference and intervention.

July 23, 2011 in Uncategorized

We have all watched the dissolution of people. Some in our families or among our friends, wondering whether or when to step in, navigating the tiny space between interference and intervention. And some in the world of celebrities, watching them wax and wane inside People magazine, participating in their demise by our curiosity it seems. Lindsay Lohan, for example, a short sure path from cute freckles to hollow rehab and back again, while we have watched and bought the magazines detailing her struggle.

Amy Winehouse's tragic journey has made the news recently with YouTube videos of her unable to speak or sing in Prague, cutting short her European comeback as she was booed off the stage. I couldn't watch, not even from the antiseptic distance of YouTube. She was in need; she was dying.

I love her voice. I unabashedly love it. And her look. I don't exactly know why. Something fragile and knowing and fierce. Tiny stick legs like a foal, a deep smoky voice, those eyes, that crooked mouth. The beautiful, stunned look on her face when she won a Grammy. Her skittish way of dancing.

Those who picture me writing in a pristine office with classical music softly in the background surrounded by scented candles might be surprised to know that I write with headphones on and music loud in my ears. Probably too loud. The Flaming Lips, Coldplay. But that's how I write best, with words being sung hard and typing other words at the same time.

I wrote an entire book to the music of Amy Winehouse recently, her songs on repeat for hours, for days, for weeks as I typed.

She secured her place in music by dying young, as did Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain and Jim Morrison and more. All dead at 27 like her. Perhaps there are those we are not supposed to watch age. We'll never know. May she now rest in peace, her unique voice on repeat for those of us left here. In headphones. Loud.

And may we continue to navigate that narrow space between interference and intervention, between ignoring and participating, between booing and helping.

About Patti Digh

Patti Digh is an author, speaker, and educator who builds learning communities and gets to the heart of difficult topics. Her work over the last three decades has focused on diversity, inclusion, social justice, and living and working mindfully. She has developed diversity strategies and educational programming for major nonprofit and corporate organizations and has been a featured speaker at many national and international conferences.

15 comments to " the narrow space between interference and intervention. "


Michelle

July 23, 2011 AT 11:00PM

Beautifully said Pati.

Sherri

July 23, 2011 AT 11:29PM

You describe her perfectly. I loved her voice – I loved her lyrics – I loved her look – I was routing for her and now I am so saddened by her death. Thank you for putting my feelings into words!

Gwyn Michael

July 24, 2011 AT 9:33AM

Heartbreaking and made more so because it is not unexpected.

“Perhaps there are those we are not supposed to watch age. We’ll never know. May she now rest in peace, her unique voice on repeat for those of us left here. In headphones. Loud.”

Bittersweet tears. The voice lives on…Loud.

Gwyn Michael

July 24, 2011 AT 9:33AM

Heartbreaking and made more so because it is not unexpected.

“Perhaps there are those we are not supposed to watch age. We’ll never know. May she now rest in peace, her unique voice on repeat for those of us left here. In headphones. Loud.”

Bittersweet tears. The voice lives on…Loud.

ellen

July 24, 2011 AT 11:19AM

You have put into words, what I felt when hearing of AW’s death. It’s hard to understand why people focus on her weaknesses and not on her strengths. I did hear, the night before she died, she attended her niece’s performance, performed with her, and asked everyone to support her music. Good memory in a sad situation.

Lynn

July 24, 2011 AT 12:11PM

So beautifully written and it breaks my heart each time we lose a person to this disease.

Sally

July 24, 2011 AT 12:44PM

Beautifully written, Patti. I join you in writing to loud music in my ears, full of other people’s words.

jylene

July 24, 2011 AT 1:12PM

it’s very hard to watch her now, and so very sad. she was so beautiful and so talented. it is a great loss. and the timing of this is interesting because i am dealing with a difficult related situation in my own family. thank you for posting this. it feels like the universe just reached out to me today.

Tess Giles Marshall

July 24, 2011 AT 2:30PM

When I was young and loved Jimi and Janis and they died, I remember being so devastated because in common with most young people I though both they and I were indestructible.
I wasn’t shocked or even surprised to hear about Amy’s death, and I didn’t know her music as well, but I find myself truly sad for her.

bettyann

July 24, 2011 AT 7:37PM

her death has made me incredible sad..so much genius..down in flames..

janice vitale

July 24, 2011 AT 11:28PM

Try and get this published in time newsweek on npr etc. This is wonderfully written, topical, and brilliant.

Kat Langford

July 25, 2011 AT 6:43AM

You echo my feelings exactly. The first time I saw her and heard her singing on “Frank” was galvanizing. It was as visceral as listening to Janis Joplin when I was a teen. When “Back to Black” arrived, well I was a fan. I teach and my kids were scandalized. If I could have gotten away with it, I would have worn a black beehive and cat eyes too, but I am a redhead and it would look so ridiculous, but I can dream and inside was my inner Amy. Inside there is always a rebel in all of us, but it was hard watching that rebel become an addict. I even wrote her a letter of love and concern. If anything, it laved my conscience, but I couldn’t stop or watch the trainwreck. Her absolute charm is best seen in its early incarnation on The Russell Brand show (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13okfYfiMfs). It is worth a watch and a wail, but the genius is there accompanied by only an electric piano. Somehow I wish I could have sent a magic letter that would have convinced her of her genius, of her perfection, of the massive love so many held for her. I knew her mother would feel as I did and I was right and she danced that dance between intervention and interference. You hit it on the head with your words interference and intervention. Recently, I was so happy to see her dancing at her goddaughter’s concert and then my son ran into the room with the news of her death. She had just finished her third album. This was to be her comeback, but for me, she had never left. I am haunted and humbled by the price some pay for the beauty of art and life. Somewhere the universe is humming with a new voice.

heather carter

July 28, 2011 AT 9:28AM

dear you,
with respect and tender to Amy, with wishes for her peace of soul and heart, it is your title, dear patti, that so hits home as one of those hard hard questions, doubts, fears. one of those–where a loved one lives in that sliver of uncertainty for another loved one. the path continues and i thank you for being here and for so generously sharing what’s in you. with love, heatherlaree

Laura

July 29, 2011 AT 8:30AM

how beautiful thank you for putting it words.

Teri and the cats of Curlz and Swirlz

August 3, 2011 AT 9:04AM

Yes, tender and heartfelt…over the miles, the caring shows. Wonderful post and yes, to be shared.