#kiyiyavuranInsanlik

Humanity washed ashore.

Humanity washed ashore.

Let those words resonate for a minute. Let the weight sit heavy on your shoulders. Let the implications sink deep into your soul.

Humanity washed ashore.

I have an 8-month old son named Jack, and this is how he sleeps at night. He lies on his belly, with his head to the side, and his little sweet hands tucked underneath his body. The difference is that Jack is lying next to his mom and dad. He’s protected, comfortable and safe. And he’s breathing. Little Aylan is not. He’s wet, he’s cold, and he’s alone. His eyes, nose and mouth are likely caked with sand. And except for the waves washing against his arms and legs, his body has stopped moving and his last breath is gone.

Aylan won’t play ball. He won’t laugh with his friends. And, he won’t kiss his mother good night. He won’t feel the sadness of loss and the joy of true love. He won’t meet his wife someday and he’ll never understand what it feels like to see his face in that of his children.

Humanity washed ashore.

In Aylan’s little body is a promise unkept. A promise horribly and irrevocably broken. The promise? To create and uphold a world that values humanity. A place where our sons and daughters can grow up free—free to be, free to explore, free to decide and free to dream.

Every night I tell Jack that the world will be what he makes of it. I tell him that he has the opportunity to do anything, and that he has a whole lifetime to explore the beauty and wonder of the planet we live on. That’s what mothers do. The problem is that I don’t really believe the things I say. Not will all my heart. And despite their grave situation, I bet Aylan’s mother said the same thing to him.

There are hundreds of thousands of people around the world who will go without eating today, because of corrupt governments, tyrannical political systems and fanatical fundamentalism. In our own country, an increasing number of people are becoming the victims of reckless, cruel and haphazard murders. Inner city violence continues to rage—as does violence against the police. Young children are taking their own lives at an increasing rate due to a growing sense of hopelessness and fear about what their future holds. This is humanity washed ashore. This goes on because we let it. In some cases we start it. In other cases we perpetuate it. And in others, we simply pave the path by doing nothing.

We all had a hand in Aylan’s death. We had a hand through our action and inaction. Action in the choices we made and inaction in the choices we didn’t, that either did or did not contribute to a better world. Aylan’s father said, “I don’t want anything else from this world. Everything I was dreaming of is gone. I want to bury my children and sit beside them until I die.” He has each of us to thank.

Humanity washed ashore.

I believe that Aylan can do more in death than he ever could in life. But that’s up to us. It’s going to take us stepping back, taking a deeper look at humanity, deciding what it means to us, and then, if we think it’s worth saving, take the steps to give humanity the respect, care and protection it deserves. What can we do?

Start by reconnecting with the things that make you uniquely human. Laugh. Cry. Dream. Smile. Take a walk under the trees. Stare at the clouds. Just breathe. Feel who you are—your unique humanness.

Reconnect with the people around you. Look at your spouse. Hug your children and call your friends. Say hi to somebody on the street. Help a person struggling to get out of their car. We are all one. When we step outside of ourselves and understand this at a deep level we can no longer sit idly by as atrocities happen. Others’ pain is our pain—what happens to one of us happens to all of us.

Answer these questions for yourself. What do you value about humanity? Is humanity worth saving? And are you willing to enter the ring to protect humanity, nurture it, and preserve it for the next generation?

If your answer is yes, then it’s time to get angry—incredibly and irrevocably angry—and use that anger to inspire action. Begin by reading, studying and learning. Become intimately aware of what’s going on in the world as a prelude to taking action. And then determine where you’ll take your first step. For some, it might be doing more in your local community to help those who are suffering. For others, it might be flying to a country in need and lending a true and physical hand. What matters the most is that we’re all actively working to protect and uphold humanity, because if we let it falter it will be your fault and it will be mine—but it will be our children who suffer.

Our future is not written, but it will be by what we choose to do next. It’s time to be uncommon—in thought, in action and in courage—and ensure that what we’ve built is never again left to wash up on shore.

Inspired to do something about the refugee crisis NOW? The Independent has 5 practical ways you can immediately get involved.