A girl from Indiana cannot compute the word hurricane, even as it’s barreling toward her. I’ve heard tornadoes happen, while they’re happening even. Been spared the flying cows, the roofs blown off houses, the red shoes under uprooted foundations, knock-on-wood. And for a moment, it seemed that something might actually happen — around four in the morning on Tuesday, the windows bracing against the wind. It wasn’t quite tornado loud, but it was close enough that I put a pot of water on the stove, my keys and a lighter in my pocket.
We didn’t even lose electricity. And so I sat rapt to twitter, watching my friends and colleagues in the City post updates and photos of the faces torn from buildings and washed out streetscapes; Manhattan in the dark like a horror movie.
Blessed be! We made it through. Praise G/g o d/dess! My friends and family are safe, dry, unbroken! That is the news now. The other side of the coin — the displaced, damaged and devastated — those visited by death — they don’t tweet.
I wrestle with this.
Not just during disasters. The wheel turns. The good fortune of one spells bad luck for another. Fate is indiscriminate. I live in my warm cottage with my healthy children and another mother watches her babies starve. I feel for her. I feel the wheel turn. My life is precarious as any other. I despair for weeks for the suffering in the world.
Why do I write? What can I say that offers any meaning at all? Sometimes I latch on to a line — tugging at what I think may be it, the weft of our soulskins. If I can just unravel it a little more, I will understand and know and be happy (!) and then I can make you happy too. Then the wheel...
I have nothing profound to say to you.
I can’t make you feel better.
I can’t make your life right.
If you have it or if you have nothing, it will end either way.
The only god that matters is Fortuna. The price we pay for our earthly bodies is subjugation to her will. Some might say the Wheel turns on material matters — what we have now, we may not have later. What we don’t have? Our luck will change. Cycles of having and not having; of wanting and fulfillment; satisfaction and hunger. Constant. State. Of. Flux. This is the nature of life. The Wheel turns in a tarot reading and we say, “Good news! All this bullshit crap you’ve been experiencing will give way to good!” or “Everything looks good up to this point… be prepared for changing circumstances.” It is my most problematic card in the Major Arcana. It consumes our lives in every instant, in every minute of every day, and we are, more or less, unaware that we’re spinning on it’s axis.
There’s nothing good, because nothing lasts
and all that comes, it comes here to pass
I would voice my pain, but the change wouldn’t last
All that comes, it comes here to pass
And before you think I’ve sunk into the depths of depression: there’s nothing bad either.
All that is, without objection, is this moment. And now it’s over. Go hug your children. Press your lips to your lover’s. Tip your chin to the sun, light a candle and mourn for the suffering that is a throng on this plane.
I will continue to pick away at the truth, as it picks away at me.
Apologies for the rather un-sassy post! I thought I should share what I’d been turning over (ba dum dum!) the past few weeks — and it really crystallized for me with the recent storm. Despite the rain and the anxiety, the normal stresses that go along with getting by, I’m actually very, very well.
And in case there’s any doubt, I leave you with this adorable picture of my sweet little family on Halloween. They had a blast at the school Halloween parade and trick or treat. I can’t believe it’s over. Just when I think I’m nearly done decorating, it’s time to put it all away and move on. That pesky march of time, you know… I digress.
What’s good in your world right now?