At the risk of sounding jolly...
Life during almost-wartime is both bleak and energizing. It feels good to help, to go without, to be refined and raw and ready. I'm doing things I'd forgotten I could do: put aside my own cares, focus my energies, read the newspaper from front to back, and retain what I've read...maintain compassion and discrimination and perpective...and so forth....
When I was living on the ashram (briefly, unfortunately), I made the same discovery: less is more, serving is more fun than lazing, giving feels better than having or needing. If only I (we?) could keep this up past the crisis period.
Went to my first candlelight vigil last night at the Brooklyn Heights promenade. The clear expanse and close-up view was powerful. I relived the days I used to sleep at my boyfriend's on Clark Street and take the 2/3 or N/R to the World Trade Center...grab a breakfast shake at This Can't be Yogurt and head over to 3WFC. It's unfathomable that those places are gone.
Spent the evening catching up on my knowledge of bin Laden (whose dewy black eyes, Muslim garb and sincere gaze echo, uncomfortably, the beauty and depth of Cat Stevens' face), The US's history of terrorist acts (as recently as Bill Clinton), and how to deal with a slippery terrorist leader without causing WWIII. It's always nice to hear what my good friend Noam C. has to say. And readers, don't forget to make your voice heard at the League of Women Voters' site.
Woke up at 5:00 this morning with strange physical symptoms: my throat was swelling and I couldn't get enough breath...no inhalation seemed deep enough or to be getting oxygen in. I thought it might be an allergic reaction to the ibuprofen I'd taken even though it had been 6 hours earlier, but in my half-awake twilight state I smelled the burning-rubber smell that permeates the air and concluded that we're all being slowly poisoned. Did anyone else have those symptoms? Those thoughts? Eventually the swelling and breathing difficulties went away.
The rain really came down last night, the thunder kept jolting me awake, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one having that reaction.
Today was a little more normal.
This morning I finally taught an actual class, and it felt good to do that. People were able to cry, move, stretch, breathe and grieve.
Then I dropped off some plastic forks, Tylenol, toilet paper, and toiletries at Community Bookstore in Park Slope (who are really living up to their name by serving as a drop-off/delivery place for supplies for victims and volunteers).
Tonight I'll be running another prayer/meditation meeting at my local yoga center, and may attend the vigil in Park Slope, too.
What are y'all doing? Are you finding ways to cope? Talk to me.
write to me
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