SEEKING PEACE

I'm thinking about the fragility of life today.  I'm thinking of the little burst of optimism most of us demonstrate just by saying,  "See ya later!" when we depart from family or friends.  Because lately it feels like the odds are against that being the case.

Two and a half weeks ago, on March 8, Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 disappeared into thin air; or landed on a remote strip of island, or crashed into the wilderness, or flew straight into the Indian Ocean -- no one quite knows since all communication was lost (seemingly purposefully) and the jet veered dramatically off course and continued on to "somewhere" for several hours undetected.  Searchers are still trying to find Flight #370.

Last Tuesday, March 18th, a news helicopter fell out of the sky on a busy Seattle street next to the Space Needle at 7:30 in the morning.  It landed on cars sitting at a stoplight, yet some people were able to escape before the crashsite was engulfed in flames.  It was a miracle there weren't more casualties, but the deaths of the pilot and photojournalist aboard and the severe burns suffered by a driver in the wrong place at the wrong time were sobering enough.

At 10:45 this past Saturday morning, March 22, an enormous hillside slid down onto a whole neighborhood along the Stillaguamish River, a beautiful, rural, small-town area north of where I live, burying everything in its muddy path in a one-square mile slurry of mud and debris.  They say it took only seconds to sweep everything away, to bury everything and everyone in its path under 40-50 feet of mud; no time to run.  Twenty-four bodies have been recovered so far; scores still missing.

Tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes, and tornados have all been top story news with seeming regularity.  People with guns wreck havoc in schools, on campuses, in movie theaters and on street corners so often we have almost come to expect it -- saddened but not shocked anymore.  Drunk drivers are so commonplace I am almost amazed we make it home most nights at all, grateful to have avoided the carnage that has come to so many so senselessly.

I realize all of these incidents are echoed through the news media 24/7, creating the sense that they happen over and over, when in truth the odds really are still with us.  Yet, no matter the odds, we are vulnerable every day to an untimely, unexpected departure from this life, leaving those behind to mourn, pray, and question fate.

Still, aren't we always, every minute, in a time of transition?  We are here for such a brief moment, then we are gone, whether we live in these bodies for one year or one-hundred.  It's a quick stop in the grand scheme of things.  Maybe the surprise should be that we get the gift of another day at all.

I have a spiritual teacher who stops everything she is doing whenever she hears a siren on the city streets.  She spends a moment, not turning away from whatever tragedy may have befallen a stranger, but turning toward that pain and opening her heart with compassion.  She chants "Om Namah Shivaya", honoring Shiva the Destroyer, who makes the way clear for rebirth, for regeneration, who represents transition of all kinds.

Perhaps the best we can do is to embrace each of our days with gratitude, send loving compassion to those who suffer and mourn, and know that transition is life and, as my teacher says, "Capital 'L' Love" is really all we have to count on.   Om Shanti Om  (Peace to all Humankind).

At least, that's the view from here… ©