aponwao ideas

Seattle Center fountain with a large dome-shaped central jet shooting water into the air, forming a rainbow across the spray as families and individuals walk, play, and relax along a tree-lined urban plaza with benches and buildings in the background.

“To every action there is always opposed an equal reaction.”

Isaac Newton

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction

In physics, Newton’s Third Law tells us that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. In human terms, we witness this truth not just in mechanics but in our communities, especially when power structures frame compassion as a weakness, and caring for each other as a burden, rejecting collective solidarity for illusionary self-reliance.

The reflection came alive at the recent Seattle/King County Clinic

At a time when federal agencies are directed to dismantle support for those most vulnerable, many are experiencing the weight of exclusion and neglect even more. Yet, like a natural law in action, the escalation of marginalization as policy is met with the growth of solidarity in the community.

The human spirit, rooted in care and connection, generates its own unstoppable reaction.

In a breathtaking example of this force, more than 4,000 volunteers—doctors, nurses, dentists, eye-health specialists, students, interpreters, organizers, and community members—came together at the Seattle/King County Clinic to provide thousands of individuals direct access to medical, dental, and vision care. No cost. No appointments. No judgments.

The Seattle Center venues—often used for our Pacific Northwest Ballet, theatrical and educational performances, arts, exhibits, galas, corporate events, and trade shows—were transformed into places of empathetic and supportive health care. The clinic was orchestrated with such precision and harmony that the result was a system in remarkably well-executed motion.

A well developed system

It is easy to think of systems as rigid frameworks built by institutions. But as I moved through the areas of the clinic, I thought about systems thinking—my way of thinking. I witnessed a perfect living system—dynamic, responsive, human: a complex system with the purpose to provide care to those who needed it.

This system was made up of subsystems, tightly coordinated with one another. Subsystems that were, in turn, made up of smaller subsystems, each with its own set of elements and interconnections, all working together to form the whole and achieve a common purpose.

  • Connections between elements seamlessly aligned. 🌐🔗
  • Plans and processes methodically executed. 📋⚙️
  • Roles understood and responsibilities taken. 👥✅
  • Feedback loops in place: some for immediate action, some captured for later improvement. 🔄📝

Every volunteer, as one of the many hundreds of elements of their subsystem, was a vital part of the whole, moving fluidly together to meet patients’ needs, offer smiles, and listen. The connection between people wasn’t an accident; it was the fuel. It was a reflection of what can happen when empathy drives action: a powerful system of care.

By the time my seven-hour shift as an interpreter was over, it was clear to me I needed to stay. I wanted to stay. There was so much need, and my time was more valuable there than at home.

Stories

There were many remarkable stories, a couple hit home. One patient from Kent. I mentioned to her that my son was a Kent police officer, and she said it was very much needed, as there was too much crime in the city. She mentioned a Kent police officer who was killed during a pursuit. I swallowed hard, and my eyes filled with tears. I shared with her, “That police officer was my son.” She embraced me with profound affection—an asymmetrical connection, I provided interpretation, while she gave me something far greater: her genuine understanding and compassion for my loss.

Then a mother and child. The boy had a serious eye condition requiring multiple and repeated exams, which resulted in my being with him and his mom for two hours. Interpreting for him became play, entertainment, and distraction. He was adorable, and as a six-year-old, he was not too interested in being checked but in peeking at his mother’s eyes through the machines: “Oh my god, mom, if you could see your eyes!”

When it was his turn to be examined, the optometrist and the ophthalmologist were truly special with him—there was never a rush, and they consulted with each other to ensure the best care. When he was asked if he had glasses before, he said, “Yeah—but they broke.”  I felt a deep connection to him, especially because my late son had the same vision problem as a child, and I remembered the countless broken and lost glasses at that same tender age. I also remember how difficult it was for my son to undergo the vision therapy the boy would also need, especially the experience of wearing an eye patch and feeling different from his kindergarten classmates. After all the exams, each vision provider insisted—speaking from the heart—that he always wear his glasses. He promised he would, with the most innocent face and the sweetest, most contagious smile.

After he chose the two sets of glasses of his favorite colors, red and green, it was time for the family to check out. I reminded him of what the doctors said: “Always wear your glasses unless you are bathing or ready for bed,” and the rhyme from the optician, whose playfulness and extraordinary warmth were beyond measure:  “If the glasses are not on your face, they’re in a case.” As we said farewell, he gave me a tight, priceless hug. A hug that will stay with me forever.

The action and the opposite reaction

Being a part of this system as a volunteer made every step and action count. Every movement, every moment, all of it stayed with me.

The absence of a proper healthcare system will not stop communities from coming together and taking care of each other. There are not enough exclusionary government policies to override our innate empathy and connection. For every action leveraged to exclude or marginalize, humans in communities country-wide will respond with an equal or greater force to include and safeguard.

If this reflection resonates with you, consider finding local opportunities to support community health clinics or other acts of collective care. 

If you want to know more and volunteer at the Seattle/King County Clinic, please, visit their website https://seattlecenter.org/skcclinic/

You won’t regret it.