I suspect I’m not the only one feeling a little wary and vulnerable in my skin these days. A week after the Boston bombings, as people across the nation paused yesterday afternoon to observe a moment of silence at 2:50, I stood alone in my own quiet kitchen, sad and somewhat at a loss for what to do next.
There is so much in my life to be grateful for. No one I know was injured last week. All my loved ones are fine. Nothing visible in my world has changed. And yet, I find myself blinking back tears at the slightest provocation or criticism or harsh word. There is too much violence in the world. Let us not add to it, not even with one more negative word or gesture.
The headlines in the newspaper are both an accounting and a measure of our collective sorrow: the suffering that spills across the pages in articles and images, the anger and confusion still searching for an outlet, the grief still so fresh and raw. Looking at the photos of two brothers, one dead and one facing death or life imprisonment, I search in vain for some clue that would explain such calculated, senseless evil. And then, because I am myself a mother of two boys, I can’t help but think: these boys are also someone’s sons.
At the same time, photos from the funerals remind us of all the other parents who are mourning. The losses, and the ripples from those losses, are unfathomable. Yet in the midst of loss, there is extraordinary grace, too, and resilience. On TV, a composed young dancer’s face lights up as she tells Anderson Cooper how glad she is to be alive, even as she envisions her new life without her left foot. She will dance again, she insists, leaning into her husband’s arms and gazing down at the bright pink bandage that wraps her stump. And then she makes a promise: somehow, though she’s never been a runner herself, she intends to return to the Marathon next year – as a participant, even if it means she walks or crawls across the finish line.
There is more than one path toward healing, no one right way to grieve or to recover. But after a week of monitoring the unfolding developments in Boston, after listening to this courageous young woman try to articulate why she is choosing not to look back in anger but to move forward with hope, I sense it’s time for a break from the relentless onslaught of news. Time to find my own still center and embrace the texture of life as it is – not an easy task in the best of times, perhaps even more challenging today.
The sight of my welcoming house at the end of a long car ride Sunday night filled my heart to overflowing. Hugging my husband and son after a weekend on the road, receiving a sweet text just now from a friend, bending down to the floor to snuggle my aging dog, reading a poem I love, watching the sun slip behind a cloud, just being – alive and aware and fully present in my own ordinary life – feels emotionally demanding, too. It’s as if everything has become heightened, both the fragility of my own brief presence here, and the exquisite, complicated beauty of our interconnected human existence on this earth.
Maybe, for a time, we are meant to be this raw and tender. Forced to acknowledge the dark shadow side of human nature and to feel the full brunt of that knowing, we have to face the truth: People hurt each other. Violence and suffering are intertwined, one giving rise to the other. And somehow, it is up to each one of us to do better, to soften our hearts, to sing our songs even in the midst of sorrow, to take better care of ourselves and of one another.
I think of how many opportunities I have each day to be brave and vulnerable, to offer a hand, to make love visible – and how many of those opportunities I squander, because I’m too annoyed to be expansive, too scared to reach out, too distracted to notice, or too busy to bother. And then I’m reminded of words I turn to again and again by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, words that guide me home when I stray away from the person I aspire to be:
Be brave…
“Anything you do from the soulful self will help lighten the burdens of the world. Anything. You have no idea what the smallest word, the tiniest generosity can cause to be set in motion. Be outrageous in forgiving. Be dramatic in reconciling. Mistakes? Back up and make them as right as you can, then move on. Be off the charts in kindness. In whatever you are called to, strive to be devoted to it in all aspects large and small. Fall short? Try again. Mastery is made in increments, not in leaps. Be brave, be fierce, be visionary. Mend the parts of the world that are within your reach. To strive to live this way is the most dramatic gift you can ever give to the world.”
Inspiration. . .
I first met Carrie Carriello three years ago, when she attended a reading of The Gift of an Ordinary Day. She told me she was thinking about writing a book herself, and asked if I would read a few of her essays. Her humor and courage were evident in every paragraph. I couldn’t imagine how this busy young mother could possibly take care of five rambunctious children, including an autistic son, and find time to write a book, too. And yet I also had a feeling nothing was going to stop her; she was that determined to tell her family’s story and to share her special little boy with the rest of us. Today, What Color is Monday? is published.
It’s my pleasure to share Carrie’s video with you, in which she recalls the moment she knew for certain her special son would find his way in the world, thanks to a stranger’s generosity – a beautiful example of the way one small act of kindness can transform a life. Listening to Carrie, I’m inspired to reach a little higher myself — to love more, to be better, to be braver, to be kinder. “You have no idea what the smallest word, the tiniest generosity can cause to be set in motion.”
oh, so beautiful, Katrina. I always think of you and your own grace in these times. I did not know about that dancer’s story. I will carry it with me today. Love,
b
I am thinking of her still. She is a shining light.
I, too, have been struggling to find my still center these days, so thank you for your inspiring and, as always, beautiful words.
Thank you Jessica. We are trying together!
In my “regular” life I wonder how I could possibly exist in a more raw and more vulnerable state, and then events like Monday and Friday come along to show me that I can, in fact, be more tearful, more tender, more easily bruised. Thank you for this reminder that the texture of life as it is, right now, is all there is. xox
Glad we are here to remind each other!
A few months ago, I decided to make a concerted effort to simply smile and say “good morning” or “hello” to people I meet as I go about my day. Most people respond in kind, and I continue on, hoping that for one brief second I brightened that person’s day. I know of many instances where people have made MY day a little better by showing a simple kindness, or saying a heartfelt “thank you”. It’s a miniscule gesture in the scheme of things, but I like to think that if more people shared a smile and a kind word, that it would be a start in making us feel more connected.
One of our friends lost a young cousin in Newtown. He was overwhelmed by the wonderful outpouring of people who came to share in their grief at the funeral. He acknowledged the evil that had occurred, but was most impressed by the goodness that it evoked. It’s almost like the evils of our world make us pause to remember how blessed we are, and how much goodness there can be if we make the effort.
Thank you for posting Carrie’s video – I look forward to reading the book.
Beautifully put. I’m trying this, too, to connect even in small ways throughout the day.
Thanks for your wisdom today, as always, finding the positive in madness. Also, enjoyed Carrie’s video – thanks for sharing. I’m always inspired by
moms who find grace and joy in their challenges that so out weigh mine.
Thanks my friend! Carrie is an inspiration for sure.
Before my father passed away, he gave me a precious gift I will never forget. He said, ” Every day I wake up and see the sun shining or open my eyes and see your mother beside me, it is a gift from God.”
He wrote a poem that ends with the line,
“I found my treasures at home.” For my brothers and I, that was the greatest gift he ever gave family us. To know that we, his family were his treasures…
We will carry that to the next generation. Our children are our gifts.
Your dad was wise. And I agree with him wholeheartedly. Thank you for sharing him with us.
I, too, saw this young lady you mentioned interviewed by Anderson Cooper last night. She is absolutely amazing and all I could think as I listened to her was “WOW”! In the aftermath of such a life altering event for so many people, here is this remarkable person who not only is determined to go on with her life as it was before the accident but plans to do some very physically demanding things that she’s never done before. I can only hope that if I ever have to face something as tough as what she and others are facing now, that I too will have her courage, her hope, and her strength. Honestly, I could only hope to have it today! We all have so much to be thankful for!
I’ve thought of her so many times in the last few days, especially as I face some endings/changes in my life. Attitude is all.
I had to finish wiping the tears from my eyes after watching the video about Jack. I can’t wait to read the book.
And I’m so thrilled that the amputees in Boston are getting the help and encouragement they need. I have heard that the ACA (amputee coalition of america) was having trouble getting in to the hospitals with peer counselors, because security was so tight. Those new amputees are on my heart every single day.
Did I send you the post I wrote for them: Here is the link, if I forgot in the chaos of our recent days –
http://geekmom.com/2013/04/boston-amputees/
I hope this message eventually gets to at least some of them. I’ve been there. And I want them to know it’s not such a terrible place to be.
I miss feeling like we’re almost neighbors, Katrina. And I think of you even more this week, as my wonderful brother/sister in law who live on your mountain are here in CO visiting us. Some day you’ll come to Denver, and I’ll hug you in person. I just know it.
Online hugs for now,
Judy
justonefoot.com
Loved your essay Judy, and I hope it reaches every one of the Boston amputees. Just shared on Facebook — may your words find their way to all those who need to read them.
Katrina
As always, I love your thoughts about events such as Boston. This is yet another reminder to us that we need to not squander our opportunties to love a little deeper and give a little more, for each positive stone we throw into the pond of life sends out a ripple of love and good energy to those around us and helps to make the world a better place. Thanks for the reminder.
What a lovely way to start my day off, by reading your post! Thanks so much Katrina.
Dear Katrina,
I have just finished reading Magical Journey and found it not only relevant to my life but to my brother. He too is going through midlife crisis. I have shared with him parts of your book that I thought might give him insight and acceptance of his struggles. What a gift it has been for me to be able support him by sharing with him your writing. He has very much appreciated your thoughts.
As I read your book I found many words of inspiration and made note of them for future reference and review. I would like to include thoughts such as these on art or greeting cards. I am an amateur artist and would hope to be able to sell these. I have written the publishing company at permissions@…… but haven’t had any response. Would you be able to give me direct permission to use your words in my art? I’d love to be able to share your words with others and by doing so I didacticly learn as well as create with love for others who find inspiration in your thoughts.
A few quotes I have made note of are:
“Happiness is not an achievement but a choice.”
“Nothing and everything, perhaps that what love is.”
“Breath, Relax, Feel, Watch, Allow”
“If you fear change, you will miss the abundance of your life.”
I will give you credit on the art with your name and quotations.
I love the other people you have quoted in your book such as Joseph Cambell, Terry Tempest Williams, Annie Dillard, John Muir, for example. I too have read some of their writings. For you to use their quotes did you have to get permission from each of them or is it acceptable to use those quotes as long as they are given credit?
I appreciate your knowledge and feedback whatever that may be and will respect your response.
Thank you for writing and sharing it with all of us!
With sincere appreciation,
Teresa