We've all seen them by now. By cell phone, video camera, TV camera. The bang. The clouds of smoke. People stagger. People fall down. There is screaming. People running away, jumping over fences. And...inexplicably, people running into the smoke, into the screaming. Into the unknown. To save, to comfort, to see who survives. The Boston Marathon Bombings.
And we. A city, a state, a continent away. Our hearts still. We stop. Immediately, we run. Because we are not there, we cannot run into the smoke. We grab our cell phones, run to our computers, our land phones. We get into our cars. We drive. We end up...at our kids' day care, their schools, our spouse's work, into the nursery. We arrive. We touch, we hug, we laugh/cry, inwardly, outwardly. We watch our babies breathe, asleep, safe, warm. We call our friends, chiildren, lovers, parents. We hug our cats, dogs. We touch the faces in the photos of loved ones lost. These are the ones that we would save, if we were there. We would run into the smoke, facing horrors unimagined, to comfort, to transport to save.
We have been here before. In my life, it was the 1989 earthquakes, the Oklahoma City Bombings, and, of course, 9/11. In times, when it is life vs. death, everything is starkly delineated. Bills, e-mails, job worries, traffic. It all falls away. What flashes foremost in your mind as your primitive brain prepares to run into the smoke, is what you love most, what keeps you alive, what makes your heart beat...where you keep your heart. THIS is what matters. This is what drives the world for you, makes the sun shine, the birds sing, gives meaning to your life.
We are fortunate. I can delineate in less than six words the times that we, as a nation, have had to come to terms with violent, senseless death on our soil. We have not lived in Belfast during the 70's, in current-day Iraq, Afghanistan, the Congo, Darfur, Mexico, Palestine, Syria. Where stepping out of your doorway is an act of faith, and everyday activities such as earning a living, shopping for food or celebrating a wedding, puts you at risk for your life. Except for those who are or have family who are in active duty military, we do not have to face these crises of faith, this checking in on loved ones, on an hourly or daily basis. We, not being in this constant danger, will never be able to understand or comprehend what this means. But we do understand, what these acts constitute. The ripping of what matters from your life.
The more love you have in your life, the more you have to lose. But without love in your life, what meaning does life have. So, therein lies the conundrum. To have much, you must risk much. Without that joy, that life, that touchstone, what else would give us the courage to run into the smoke?
And we. A city, a state, a continent away. Our hearts still. We stop. Immediately, we run. Because we are not there, we cannot run into the smoke. We grab our cell phones, run to our computers, our land phones. We get into our cars. We drive. We end up...at our kids' day care, their schools, our spouse's work, into the nursery. We arrive. We touch, we hug, we laugh/cry, inwardly, outwardly. We watch our babies breathe, asleep, safe, warm. We call our friends, chiildren, lovers, parents. We hug our cats, dogs. We touch the faces in the photos of loved ones lost. These are the ones that we would save, if we were there. We would run into the smoke, facing horrors unimagined, to comfort, to transport to save.
We have been here before. In my life, it was the 1989 earthquakes, the Oklahoma City Bombings, and, of course, 9/11. In times, when it is life vs. death, everything is starkly delineated. Bills, e-mails, job worries, traffic. It all falls away. What flashes foremost in your mind as your primitive brain prepares to run into the smoke, is what you love most, what keeps you alive, what makes your heart beat...where you keep your heart. THIS is what matters. This is what drives the world for you, makes the sun shine, the birds sing, gives meaning to your life.
We are fortunate. I can delineate in less than six words the times that we, as a nation, have had to come to terms with violent, senseless death on our soil. We have not lived in Belfast during the 70's, in current-day Iraq, Afghanistan, the Congo, Darfur, Mexico, Palestine, Syria. Where stepping out of your doorway is an act of faith, and everyday activities such as earning a living, shopping for food or celebrating a wedding, puts you at risk for your life. Except for those who are or have family who are in active duty military, we do not have to face these crises of faith, this checking in on loved ones, on an hourly or daily basis. We, not being in this constant danger, will never be able to understand or comprehend what this means. But we do understand, what these acts constitute. The ripping of what matters from your life.
The more love you have in your life, the more you have to lose. But without love in your life, what meaning does life have. So, therein lies the conundrum. To have much, you must risk much. Without that joy, that life, that touchstone, what else would give us the courage to run into the smoke?
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