Colander people (and other kitchen metaphors)

It's Sunday noontime. I have Norah Jones on the stereo and strong coffee. The early afternoon sun is streaming through my window. It's perfect for time traveling.

Someone once explained to me that our hearts are like a cup or a pan or a bowl. The love of the people around us and the love we have for ourselves stays with us, helps keep us satisfied and healthy in our lives. Like water, it fills us and gives us something to hold onto during even the roughest times. Sometimes the toils of life leave our hearts feeling depleted, but those are often the times when friends and family come to our aid and offer so much love that our cups overflow. The watertight nature of our cups, pans and bowls is what allows us to accept the love of others and to give love in return. It is what makes the world a bearable place.

Some are not so lucky. Through biology or the cruelty of others, some among us have no capacity to hold water. Instead of a cup or a pan or a bowl, their hearts are more like colanders, so punched full of holes that they can hold nothing. And they long to be filled, to know what it feels like to love and be loved, to feel at peace. They grasp desperately at everyone who comes close to them, but every time they are loved, the water just drains out through the holes, leaving their hearts empty and aching. They need. They hurt. They long. They rage. And nothing is ever enough.

This wise person who introduced me to the concept of these colander people pegged it precisely: They are the saddest of human beings. For some reason, I have found myself close to several colander people in my lifetime. They are heartbreaking in their need and unable to find quiet strength in the love that is given them. They are achingly beautiful in their vulnerability, the personification of our most basic human needs. But to most, they are also incredibly dangerous.

For some reason, these people are on my mind this morning. And I am saddened by how they ache. I am angry at those who made them the way they are. We all can name the grand atrocities of humanity. But what about the everyday atrocities that create these colander people? That warrants outrage as well. These people deserve compassion, and I continue to wonder if there is truly anything that can patch the holes in their hearts and allow them to know love.

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