I find it fascinating how life goes on… Recent devastating events in Japan have rocked that country to its core, with world-wide efforts initiated to help ease Japan’s current and ongoing burdens.
Yesterday, while on my date with my youngest son, we spoke more of what’s been going on in Japan. That triggered conversations about other incidents in our somewhat recent history that left the world stunned when they occurred. One we discussed was the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster. The other was of the collapse of the Twin Towers on 9-11. As I drove along, my son, listening intently and contributing to our conversation, clicked on his smart phone and brought up videos of both those events to help him better understand their magnitude.
We discussed those historic events for a bit longer before switching to happier subjects. I shared how I’d received a call earlier that day, informing me that our oldest son and his girlfriend will be moving back to southern California from up north. Beaming, my youngest son and I discussed how great it would be to have our family closer together. How we’ve missed having our oldest son around. How the two brothers, each having grown tremendously on their own, are now ready to embark on a more grown up relationship with one another. Nothing could make me happier.
Then, earlier today, I got a text from a friend, asking me if I’d heard the news about the most recent aftershock in Japan. I told him I hadn’t as I’d been in somewhat of a media blackout while traversing my mountain trail. He filled me in. All I could do was shake my head in disbelief and have my heart, once again, go out to the people of Japan, for all their suffering.
With a heavy heart, I headed to my Pilates class, during which, I couldn’t help but dwell on the feeling of sadness I felt for Japan and her occupants. Arriving home, I poured myself into the hectic routine of making dinner interspersed with driving my son to and from soccer practice. Later, as we sat around the table, eating and conversing, my thoughts kept returning to Japan. I didn’t want to ruin the light mood everyone else was in, so I kept my thoughts to myself still unable to shake my sadness.
After dinner, I was in my office, getting some work done, when my daughter entered with our granddaughter, Kai, who she placed on the floor. Kai looked from her mom to me and then beamed a toothless grin so full of enthusiasm that her eyes crinkled shut. When they reopened, Kai immediately began her new inchworm technique of crawling straight for me, intent to reach me as soon as she could.
It was in that very moment, my breath caught and focusing intently on Kai, that I finally shook my sorrowful feeling over Japan’s woes, marveling over a new beginning—that of our granddaughter doing the very crawl I’d taught her only days earlier.
I sat there, my gaze shifting from my daughter to my granddaughter and back again. The whole while, my mind vacillated over topics recently discussed: Japan, the Twin Towers, the Space shuttle Challenger, our oldest son moving back to town. And it was then that dawning awareness set in—no matter what, life goes on.
Half a world away, somewhere in Japan, though the country is torn apart, no doubt, there is a little baby taking it’s first tentative crawl just as our granddaughter is. And that’s a good thing, for it’s a tactile reminder that life goes on. People recover. Devastations are survived. Tragedies make us stronger for having endured them. And most of all, no matter how young or old or whatever station in life, the human spirit will find a way to move forward. It may be in the form of a comical inchworm crawl, but that is forward momentum. And in the end, that’s what will carry us through.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
While reading the comments folks made on yesterday’s blog about how I’d save the rattlesnake form being needlessly killed by that man, I grew puzzled, disturbed and then I was downright upset.
Perhaps it’s because of how I was raised—a deep appreciation of nature, all nature—ingrained deep within my fibers, or maybe that’s just the way I was born. Either way, I couldn’t imagine harming one of nature’s creatures unless they posed a direct threat to someone or me I was with, meaning they were in the actual act of attacking.
Living where I do, I’m mindful that it is I in the animals’ habitat, not the other way around. As such, I have the utmost respect for their tolerance with allowing me safe passage time and time again through their inner sanctity. I haven’t always been granted that same safe passage by people I’ve come upon while up on the mountain, but the animals have always let me alone while bringing me great inner peace at being made privy to their existence.
Am I a huge fan of snakes? No. Do I think they’re cuddly and sweet? No. Do I, or have I, ever owned any as pets? No. Then why should I care about what happens to a random rattlesnake up on a mountain trail? Well…perhaps I shouldn’t, but the fact is, I do. Always have. Always will. Numerous times per year, I stop someone from harming one of nature’s creatures up on the mountain trails I traverse.
I do so as a means to help educate folks and to pay homage to the magnificent critters, and yes, that includes rattlesnakes, I come across while on my mountain journeys. Is my one small voice making a difference? Raising awareness? Helping to save nature’s fine critters? Who’s to say? I don’t do what I do to gain huge recognition or to change the world. Instead, I speak out because it seems to be the right thing to do. And if that includes raising awareness one rattlesnake sighting at a time, then so be it. Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Today, I saved a life and helped to educate some folks in the process. Beginning on my mountain run, I came to where the trail forks. As I headed up the right side, I noticed a large rattlesnake in my path. I stopped to take its photo. That proved anything but easy, as it was moving with great speed, wanting to get a way from me. In addition, the sun was glaring with such intensity on the screen to my phone that I could barely see what I was taking a picture of.
Just about the time I was able to snap what I hoped would prove to be a good photo, along came a younger couple with their dog down the other side of the fork. As they were headed, unaware, straight into the path of the snake, I informed them of such. The man became rather protective of his girlfriend and their dog, ushering them off to the side. The snake, sensing the dog, became agitated and began to accordion the upper half of its body, getting into a strike pose. This was my cue to ask the couple to please move their dog away, and for me to move myself out of the way.
The snake calmed down, and I snapped a couple more pictures. Putting my phone back in my running pouch, I turned just in time to see the young man come up behind me with two huge rocks, one in each hand, his eyes intent on the still moving snake. I looked from the rocks to the poor snake that was just trying to get away and said to the man, “Please don’t kill it. It means no harm. Just wants to get away from us.”
The man, not detoured, kept approaching the snake and said, “Are you sure,” as he paused to look at me.
“I am,” was my reply.
The man dropped each of the rocks, each landing with resounding thud that I felt more than heard, the ground vibrating from the force. Then he said, “But what if the snake tries to attack a person or dog?”
I looked at the snake, relieved that it had finally reached a spot where it could conceal itself, then turned to the man and said, “That won’t happen unless it feels its life is threatened. And if people and their dogs,” I added, referring to what I’d seen as the couple had approached with their dog off-leash and romping off trail through the grass, “remain on the trail. That way, they’ll have plenty of warning there’s a snake about and will be able to safely make their way around it without incident.”
The man looked at where the snake had disappeared into the tall grass and then back at me before he said, “I don’t know…. I don’t like it.”
With the utmost patience, I looked at the man and with a calm voice said, “Try to remember that we’re in the snake’s territory up here. This is his home, not ours. As such, we have to be respectful of him.”
As if a light bulb had finally gone on, the man looked from me to his girlfriend, dog and then back at me before relaxing. Heading off a moment later, he said, “You’re right.”
Monday, April 4, 2011
Earlier, I had a rather in depth thought-provoking conversation with a dear friend. The two of us tend to do that with one another. But I digress. During the course of our conversation, my friend pointed out how: thoughts create intent, which create actions that ultimately lead to creating life.
I agreed with him, wholeheartedly. Then he shared how he believes that the lack of perceptive thought is what makes people average instead of being more intellectual. I again agreed, adding how I think that’s a big part of what makes people complacent.
We spoke for a bit longer, expanding on this subject—there really are so many directions one can go with it. Finally, we landed on how it’s neglect to leave one’s thoughts vacant. The translation to this would be: it’s a terrible thing to waste one’s mind.
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