Life on the Edge/Dangerous Beauty

*San Clemente, CA during the Tsunami Advisory that was issued here.

The earth seems angry, very angry.  I say the earth, but it might just as well be God, Adonai, Buddha, YHWH, Jesus Christ, or any number of the Hindu Deities.  The rage is expressed in mind-numbing rattles and surging walls of water rushing five hundred miles an hour toward panic-stricken people.  Clinging to tree branches which race by in a moment of pure instinct-motivated survival.  Praying even if for the first time in an entire life.  Gasping for air.  Grabbing for the surface.  Moving toward the light.

My heart aches in a rhythm which can only be described as that of the rolling waves which thunder below my window.  I live on the edge of what is known as the Pacific Ring of Fire.  80-90 percent of the world's earthquakes occur within this area.  This is a fact.  And as a Californian, I have lived with the knowledge of this fact since my husband and I packed up everything we owned in a Dodge cube-van, and trekked out to California twenty-six years ago next September, to begin our life together.  To plant our own roots.  To raise our own family.  To flourish.  And yet, living in an area of such natural beauty also brings with it the immanent possibility of destruction.  Living on the edge of the Pacific ocean commands respect for that which is treacherously beautiful.  Dangerously beautiful.  I have a very healthy respect for the strength and capability of nature.  I no longer go deep into the ocean, knowing that I am no longer a strong swimmer and am of no match for that which can lull me into a sense of hypnotic, false complacency.  We have an "understanding", the ocean and I.  I admit that I am no match for the things which can pull me down and eat me underneath the dark, rolling waves, and the ocean allows me to wade semi-predictably upon the shoreline, honoring its power and dangerous beauty.  Fairly simple equation, yes?  Until the ocean becomes unpredictable because of an earthquake.  Because of impending anger?  Because sometimes people do not believe it when they notice that the water is surging back, uncharacteristically, and they decide to stay anyway?

And yet, here I am living on the edge of that which is angry, beautiful and often, unpredictable.  But I will not leave.  I will not leave for many of the same reasons that the people of Japan who resided in those dangerously beautiful seaside towns did not leave.  I trust.

I trust that all of the natural wonders that were created on this Pacific Rim were placed here not to repel man, but to draw us near.  I trust that whatever statement nature, the earth, God, Krishna, etc. is making, it is not meant to make us run away, but to draw us in closer...To one another.

And so, as I sit admiring the unbridled, picturesque beauty of the Pacific ocean and its shorelines, I will focus on the trust and send a prayer for healing out into the world.  I will pray for those who live in Japan as they face this uphill struggle to piece their lives back together.  I will pray for the souls of those who were lost to this natural tragedy.  And I will pray that the world will come together to help the Japanese people remember that they are not alone.  That we are all connected, if even by oceans, in our humanity.

Because to focus on the anger would give power to that which can destroy.  But to focus on the trust, the compassion, the humanity...In that, there is always renewal.

Peace
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Refuah Shlema
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Namaste

After the Earthquake Hits

                                   *Photo of a sign that stands at the end of our street.

As in any unexpected jolt that might occur within the semblance of our daily routines, an earthquake is a very sudden shock of reality which can make you feel as if your mind and body are temporarily in a momentary state of disconnect.  It takes several seconds before the mind realizes that the body could be in a potentially disastrous situation at which point the adrenaline kicks into maximum gear and a quick decision must be made in order to minimize the risks.  Living in Southern California, for the past nearly twenty-five years, has given me the opportunity to experience many, many earthquakes.  I must admit that after the first few, it was much easier to become somewhat desensitized to the possibility of severe damage.  I mean how many times can we sit through immeasurably long newscasts in which pictures of convenience stores with a few items that have fallen to the floor are flashed across the screen over and over and over again.  It becomes a bit of a farce when something so potentially disastrous is used as filler for a nine PM newscast.  And yet, we are all told that "The Big One" is going to hit us, sometime, someplace and without a warning or a doubt.

Life is like this.  In many ways, we all live in Tsunami hazard zones just waiting for the big one to hit.  One moment, our life is as we expect it to be.  Our days fairly predictable, with very few diversions along the way.  And then, something happens in the matter of a split second, which can absolutely shake us to the core of our being.  This happened to me fourteen months ago when my only sibling, my forty-one year old brother died suddenly.  One moment, we were getting ready to meet him and his family for dinner and the next thing I knew, I was standing next to his body laying on a gurney in the hospital ER.  An earthquake of inordinate proportions, followed by a life-shattering Tsunami.  And yet, what I have learned from my own personal Tsunami is that even after the absolute worst has hit, life can feel somewhat safe again.  There is something insurmountable about the human spirit that can guide it back to center, even after experiencing something that initially seems impossible to recover from.  Maybe it has to do with the smaller situations that tend to shake up our worlds on a frequent basis which truly do prepare us for the enormous, life-altering jolts.  Maybe it has to do with the ability to stand back a little bit more each time something happens, allowing ourselves the time that we need in order to react safely.  For me, I know that it has little to do with fear and a lot to do with the calmness that immediately comes over me when I find myself in a fearful situation.  For me, it is not only the smaller situations which help me to better deal with the larger, more ominous ones, but the Hand that I feel upon my shoulder willing me to respond and not react when an extra large dose of adrenaline is sent coursing through my veins.

Tonight, as a 4.7 sized earthquake struck Southern California, I felt that initial jolt of adrenaline as it made its way to my heart.  But as the floor beneath my feet began to steady itself, once again, I felt my soul return from nervousness to calm.  In life, as well as in difficult situations, panic is only a waste of precious energy.  I have learned that living in earthquake country means that there will inevitably be earthquakes.  And living the human experience means that there will inevitably be sudden jolts to our own lives.  The key is how we respond to the aftermath once the shaking has ceased.

Be safe, dear ones.