the edges of myself

I spent all day in bed.  When I went to sleep last night I was flirting with a sore throat, or perhaps it was flirting with me.  In either case, I acknowledged it, dosed myself with what I had in my home remedy arsenal, and tried to settle in for a good night’s sleep.  That didn’t really pan out.  My sleep was sub par, and when I finally awoke to start my day I accepted the fact that my throat was in fact quite a bit worse than when i lay down to sleep– and that what I needed to do, beyond anything else, was take care of myself.  I cancelled my clients and classes– took my taxes to the post office, and settled back into bed.

My day was simple and beautiful– I slept, wrote, read, spent some time with a beautiful man, ate some soup.  All good.  Then I went online to post my poem for the day.  Boston.  Bombing. Crap.

You see, I don’t pay attention to the news.  This is part of who I am in the world.  Some people might say it’s irresponsible.  For me, this is the only way I am able to function.  If I were to take in all of the events, or even half, that happen in the world on a daily basis, I would implode.  I am a very sensitive being.  The way that I am able to exist as a functional member of society, and affect the greatest good is by maintaining a safe and manageable bubble around myself and my loved ones.  This bubble is perfectly insulating and extends as far as I allow it.  What I’m realizing, as I begin this next phase in my life– acknowledging and using my voice– is that my bubble is necessarily getting a lot bigger.

Here are the facts:  the world is full of tragedy.  There are people starving and dying and killing and suffering beyond our wildest imaginations.  All the time.  Every moment of every day.  This is the truth– and yet, we exist, in our facebook worlds, laughing out loud, and liking and commenting and creating our own social narrative for our “friends” day in and day out.  And then tragedy strikes on OUR OWN SOIL,  In the United States of America.  And it is no more or less tragic than all of the other tragedy that is constantly cycling all over the globe–but it stops us in our tracks.  It hits us close to home.  We can imagine ourselves within the tragedy, our loved ones– we can trace a connection to the event– no matter how distant, and it hooks us in.  Enter fear.  Hello terror.

It is exactly that fear and terror that the person or persons responsible for terrorism wish to exploit.  I cannot allow myself to go down the rabbit hole of terror– nor will I allow fear or terror to govern any part of my existence as a being on this planet.  The way that I move through my life is simple– I find the lessons and the blessings within everything.  Certainly nobody is doubting their blessings this evening in the wake of the tragedy that happened today in Boston.  But, I just don’t believe that tragedy is a necessity to connecting to our larger humanity.

And I don’t say this because I feel that an outpouring of support isn’t perfectly right and good to the people who have been affected.  I say it because an outpouring of support is necessary everywhere, all the time– tragedy or no.  We are human beings, all of us, together.  All the time.  We are all moving through these lives of ours, some of us more consciously than others, but all of us bound by our humanity.  Always.  Our lives are full of beauty and blessings– constantly abounding.  It should not take tragedy to remind us of that.  

Fear is not the place for us to unite from– love is.  And we can do that every moment of every day, in small and simple ways.  We can remind ourselves of that connection that exists between each and every one of us on the globe– beginning with those people right inside your own bubble.  The woman sitting next to you on the bus, the guy waiting to make a left-hand turn in front of you, the kids running across the street without a care…  We can acknowledge that connection in the tiniest of ways– maybe just by changing a thought, really seeing a person– or allowing a smile to surface.  We must remind ourselves that we know and understand each other– regardless of whether we have any actual shared experience.    

We must remember that this journey of ours is only solitary if we choose to define it that way.  And I for one am looking for as many partners as possible in my army of love.  You just let me know if you’re interested– because there is serious power in numbers.  The doors are wide open to anyone and everyone.  No previous experience necessary– just a willingness to open and operate from your heart.