Earth Shaking
On January 27 at 10:59 pm, a 4.1 magnitude earthquake rocked the world around me. Not earth-shattering but shaky enough to wake people up. Some thought it was snow released from their roof, and many presumed it was a late-night snowplough rumbling by. Not me. I was asleep in my new bed, my dream bed, the bed I never want to leave. I didn’t feel the earth move because I was deeply, blissfully asleep.
It’s colder here than anyone likely wanted it to be - except my son, who gets restless waiting for the ice to thicken so he can get out there, drill holes and wait for fish to bite.
Today, the snow is blinding, a reprieve from all the snowfall. It’s 30 degrees below zero, and my hot water pipe froze.
Otherwise, the world is being shaken by its heels. Which can’t be avoided by snuggling down in my divine new bed.
It’s not hopeless, not hopeless, not hopeless.
Everyone is scrambling, trying to protect themselves – from prison, gunfire, and idiots.
I think about the situation with the lunatic to the south, although honestly, it grieves me to have my attention yanked away repeatedly by news of such a despicable excuse for a human. Yes, that was my outside voice, but I have no plans to attempt to cross into that territory.
There’s hope, of course, which we hold onto the way we hold onto the crossbar of a rollercoaster. As though hope will save us when the ride collapses.
However…
Thousands are out in the streets freezing their asses off, protecting each other. Nations are banding together, diverting their resources. I’ve heard that courts are considering contempt. Crimes and misdemeanours.
It’s not hopeless, not hopeless, not hopeless.
Arundhati Roy has said that by focussing on the individual and waiting for him to be impeached, we fail to recognize the system that produced him. A few years ago, I read a quote by Deepak Chopra saying something along the lines of evil having always existed, but now it’s visible; it’s raised its head above ground.
I ask, is it truly an us-against-them phenomenon, or is what we’re experiencing a manifestation of our own inner battles? Is it luck or rigging or bullying or a crack in the collective consciousness that brought a despot to power? Yes, I know, many perceive the one who yells the loudest and raises a fist as the one with power.
But not you, my friend. You, whom I wish has a warm bed, trusted friends, nourishing food and conversation, and light in your sweet heart.
Because…
Maybe we’ve been shaken up by earthquakes or the news, but let’s consider this to be the tipping point, the nadir of our days. A close shave with several nicks and some blood.
We tripped, but maybe we won’t fall.
Stay safe and be kind.
Thanks for reading Messy, Risky Writing! This post is public, so feel free to share it.
Messy, Risky Writing is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Come, write with me… It’s safe, inclusive, and supportive. Your voice, your way.
And don’t forget, there’s a groaning board of AWA offerings all month long during our annual fundraising event, Write Around the World. Everyone is welcome, no matter what your relationship to your writing.
