This morning I stood in my garden and the clarity of light reminded me of that morning fourteen years ago when I watched live as the second plane hit the second tower. But I didn’t want to dwell on the darkness of that day, which ripped deeply into my psyche and wounded me with fear for a long time. Rather, this morning I chose presence, gratitude and thankfulness. I never considered myself a green thumb. Yet, I designed and created this garden space out of a dark, dry corner and it is bursting with life! It blows me away: me, creator?
In spite of what we lost fourteen years ago there is also so much more in the world that seeks to inspire us, to nudge us forward and demonstrate that life, order and beauty always prevail out of loss and destruction. Call it the Universe’s DNA. Remember those creatures present at Earth’s last extinction event?
The survivors pressed on. Life finds a way.
I do not intend to minimize anyone’s grief here. I have walked that valley and thought I would die, because that’s what happens when you lose someone close, right? Over the years I have found solace in the beauty around me, sought out natural beauty, because it overwhelms the grief and communicates a peace, a knowing: It’s going to be okay. I have to believe that our loved ones who have passed beyond The Veil don’t want us to wander forty years and nights in despair (at losing them or at the state of the world). Rather, they would adjure us to look up and out, to let the sun warm our bones and fill us with light, hope. They would encourage us to be light and hope.
My garden and favorite places (Kauai’s North Shore, a seawall on Okinawa, a North Carolina beach at sunrise, the Milky Way above Pico Duarte at night) override my cynicism. They are my safe places. They remind me that nature never gives up or gives in. Only human beings do that.
Finally, Em’s artwork. She took this photo at our lunch out today. She’s my living, breathing hope.