This is it - Weather the storm

-

"Two Zen monks in robes and shaved heads, one young, one old, sitting side by side cross-legged on the floor. The younger one is looking somewhat quizzically at the older one, who is turned toward him and saying "Nothing happens next. This is it."
(from The New Yorker)

I'm always waiting for what is next instead of focusing on what is now.

There are people at this very moment (and you may be one of them) concerned, worried, scared in terms of Hurricane Irene and the damage, destruction and death she will bring.

I would worry for my family and for all of those I love. I would also have compassion and concern for elderly people living alone in their homes without anyone to come and help them. Can you imagine being 80+yrs old and you really never leave your house/apartment unless it is for a medical appointment and you are suddenly alone in the dark unable to manage a safer situation - knowing that no one even realizes you are there?

What about those suffering from mental illness who are living perhaps in a basement apartment with their only friend in life - a dog - who serves as their only contact, their only source of warmth, affection and loyalty? They haven't been able to work for years because they are hearing voices or they are crippled by depression. They live in poverty and they have to fight the demons in their minds day in , day out. Their family and friends have given up on them because they have chosen fear over awareness, compassion and support. Where are these people going? How do they re-locate?

Nature's destruction is nothing new, it's always there lurking in the background and when it makes its way to the forefront it has no mercy. It will happen again and again in ones lifetime, we will all face some terrible storm and its aftermath.

We will be lifted off our feet and spun around in the air before our crash landing. When the sky breaks and the sun returns, we just have to hope that someone is there to reach out and put us back on our feet and re-assure us that "this is it."

Wishing everyone a safe lock down surrounded by people you love and the thoughtfulness of including those who are less fortunate but just as deserving.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

LISA AUDREY COHEN - WRITING YOUR LIFE STORY

-
Image
    We all have events in our lives that imprint upon our memories. Some are happy, some are sad. We all have regrets of what was and what could have been. We all experience and surrender to love whether it is a lifetime commitment or a night of passion. Our memories are sparked by the scent of cooking, a song, a place we return to where we spent our childhood. While some of us walk a straight line (the job, the career, the partner, the kids, the house), others take detours. They travel the world, have various partners and live one day to the next.  The paths we take bring us to people and places where we settle, build a foundation and a LIFE THAT BECOMES OUR STORY. For over 20 years, I have been ghostwriting for those who want to share their life story. Whether in their twilight years or their prime, they all possess A SLICE OF BRILLIANCE.  Their life experiences are fascinating and through an intense interviewing process that takes sometimes a year or more, I am able to SCULPT AND SH
Read more

GROWING UP IN WENTWORTH PARK AND AT BLOSSOM POOL

-
Image
  I remember the sound of the ball coming in contact with the bat. The wood bats had a hallow kind of smack, while the aluminum had a ping. I remember the lamplights turning on, slowly, hesitantly flickering before reaching their full strength, the moths dancing in the warm spotlight. I grew up in a small white house, along with my two brothers, on a one-way street called Wentworth. The park was our backyard. It’s where we learned how to play basketball, baseball, hockey and how to look out for one another. Our parents worked several jobs to make ends meet. We lived a simple yet fulfilled life. We were kids with 3 baseball diamonds, two basketball courts, a shack to play “wall ball” against, a jogging path behind Diamond 2, a playground beyond that, and our very first school, Wentworth School across the street, beside yet another landmark, Blossom Pool. We had a neighbour who talked to the bus drivers, whose rest stop was in front of our house. His name was John “Babe” Learie. He also
Read more

I Will Never Stop Looking For You

-
Image
It’s getting dark. I’m heading home. You won’t be there. I’ll eat alone. I’ll wonder how I ended up Where I’ve ended up. I’ll put on the TV but I won’t watch. I’ll open up a book but I won’t read. I’ll get into bed but I won’t sleep. I’ll stare at the walls. The shadows staring back at me. I’ll close my eyes. I’ll hear your voice. I’ll see your face. Your lips will move. I’ll ask the question That everyone asks But you won’t answer You’ll walk away Into the white Into nothing I won’t get to tell you What I should have told you... You are the rhythm As I breathe in As I breathe out You are the reason I am here In the black Bumping into everything I love you I feel you somewhere Everywhere Nowhere And as you continue to fade As you move further away As every memory of you Comes crashing down I will open my eyes I will bite my lip
Read more