In the immediate wake of Monday’s horrific events in Boston, I have wanted to reach out and say something poignant, or at least something soothing, or just anything useful at all. But nothing I can summon from the nauseated pit in my stomach has seemed adequate. The news of the violence at the Boston marathon affected me physically, as I know it did many others. We are all intrinsically connected in a million wonderful ways; how can we not feel the this pain?
Where I have failed to write productively, my dear friend Margi has crafted a beautiful piece that I hope you take a few minutes to read. I am so happy to know that she is okay.
Anyway, as I said, for the last two days forming sentences that might help has been a futile venture. All I can do is channel my energy back into life. Block out darkness as much as I can and water deeply the roots of nourishing things. Romance. Friendship. Gardens. Love. Literature. Health. Art. Prayer. These things matter, and feeding them makes such a difference. They cushion us against destruction and devastation.
Storm clouds are gathering here at the farm as I type this. We are told to expect giant hail, thunderstorms, and tornadoes again today. Already the air is a brackish mix of warm and cool, moist and windy. Not unlike the world, our weather threatens to crush us over and over again.
But we will be okay. Light drives out darkness. And storms pass.
Here in Oklahoma we all still have fresh memories of the Murrah Building Bombing, which unbelievably happened eighteen years ago this Friday. (I was pregnant with my firstborn that spring, which also does not feel like eighteen years ago…) The commemorative Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon is right around the corner. So along with thousands of other people I am preparing for that. And every mile I grab this month is dedicated to Boston. If ever a run could be meditative and prayerful, it’s right now. To the city of Boston, I am praying for your comfort, provision, safety, calmness, healing, and future happiness.
If you cannot eliminate grief, then increase your joy. That’s all I can do. And it does help.
xoxoxo
Your words were perfect. Focusing on life and living it to its fullest is the best way to honor the fallen. Again, you bring tears to my eyes with your loving words.
Beautiful words.
Beautifully said. I’m honored you linked to me. xoxo
An increase in joy is for me personally, the best antidote to the suffering this life brings, and the darkness that evil presses down. And when we love richly, live abundantly, and speak truth, (like you do friend), and nourish whatever is good, we mend each other and ever so slightly mend the edges of the gaping wounds like Boston, like the Murrah Building, like the smaller but cosmically as significant personal wounds we all bear.
Blessings to you, Marie. May your joy increase in great measure today especially.
xoxo
Laura