ten thousand sorrows

photo credit: marylin kaggen
photo credit: marylin kaggen

there really are no words to describe the level of devastation from the recent earthquake and tsunami in japan...the unfathomable destruction and loss...the grim tally and accounting of people and things that are gone forever. and, it's even harder to understand the sheer horror of those nuclear reactors melting down still. the known and unknown impact on our planet. contaminated air, land, ocean, food and water. the insanity of such a dangerous and uncontrollable technology in the first place. it's so horrorific as to be completely incomprehensible.


more than once these past few weeks since this domino effect of disasters began, i've found myself in some pretty gnarly places...full of anxiety, sadness, fear...and, frankly, have had some real difficulty functioning. last night was another night of laying awake listening to the incessant rain and worrying. literally, 'sweating it'. how do we make sense of such things and go on doing the things that need doing every day. how do we keep moving in our lives with so much sorrow and fear vibrating through our minds/bodies. and, specifically as parents, how do we manage such difficult emotions while remaining available and hopeful for our children and the world we're raising them into. sadly, i do not really know.


but, in a fit of somewhat controlled anxiety and panic last week, i sat down on my meditation cushion and remembered that the only place we can ever truly rest is in the moment; just this breath. which may sound feeble given the level of calamity and suffering we're talking about...not just in japan, but in libya and so many other places in the world right now, too...but, it's true. for, no real 'safety' exists outside of our own ability to find hope, peace and compassion in the moment any way. so, we cry and pray; we donate money to disaster relief; we vote and work for policy change; we get involved in our communities; we sit on our meditation cushions; and we make breakfast for our children and head out into the day. in short, we do our best to hold it all; to be present. and, that is all.


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